The duke’s silhouette remains motionless as the entire hall holds its breath.
This is it. I am about to die. He’s going to?—
“Yes.”
“Yes?” Desmond repeats. “Are you… Well, that’s… Yes. Yes! Wonderful!”
The hall erupts into cheers as Desmond sweeps me into his arms and presses a hard, firm kiss to my lips. Relief floods my body, an overwhelming sensation that must be the reason I feel nothing else.
“I look forward to hosting you in Tír na Lune, Miss Fitzroy.” The duke’s silhouette disappears in a puff of shadow.
While I’m overjoyed to be alive, I don’t dare fully relax. I may have won this first battle, but I know better than anyone that a Season is a war.
And I have a feeling the Otherworld’s is going to be particularly brutal.
Chapter
Twelve
“Iowe you a tremendous debt of gratitude, sister.” Desmond settles me onto a blood-red sofa in the small parlor off the main hall to which we have retired.
“I think Charlotte herself might have upstaged that dress, actually.” Aowen offers me an approving look before sinking into a velvet chair. Vesper is curled atop a throw pillow in the one opposite.
Lachlan guards the door, an unmovable wall of muscle to discourage interference with our impromptu conference.
I shift in my seat and the slit in my gown falls open, baring my leg from toe to hip.
“Get her a blanket,” Lachlan grumbles at Desmond.
Does he think I’m cold? Iamshivering. But it is not due to temperature. Now that the presentation ceremony is over, my anxious mind has decided to scale the next mountain of worries—will I be able to decipher Duke Áine’s clue? Will I be able to charm the duke himself? Or will he reject me during my visit toTír na Lune? And what will happen if Duke Cernunnos doesn’t allow me to hunt for his piece of the Bannrhorn?
I sit on my hands to keep them from shaking.
Desmond shoots Lachlan an exasperated look, then drapes a blanket around my shoulders. It looks like wool, but the texture is far softer. He whispers in my ear, “Spun from sheep in the Brumalt mountains where the Wild Hunt is held. The views are even more spectacular than the fabric. You’ll see them if you succeed, darling.” He squeezes my shoulders, then turns to Aowen. “Fetch her some tea. Now.”
“Like I have time to prepareteawhen Vesper and I have so much work to do.” Aowen sweeps a hand through a sunbeam, then twirls her fingers. A silver tea set appears on the table next to her. “Charlotte will require a complete trousseau of day dresses, evening gowns, sporting outfits, riding gear, sleepwear and Danu knows what else.” She hands me a cup, and I take a deep whiff. Lavender and citrus. Divine. My first sip is the perfect temperature, not too hot, not too cold. “We need weeks to prepare something worthy of a proper quarry. And we have what? A day?”
“Make it happen.” The glare Desmond aims at his sister could peel the brocade paper from the walls. “This is the greatest chance we’ve had in years to restore the monarchy. I do not need to remind you of the stakes, do I?”
Aowen narrows her eyes. “Of course not.”
“Good.” Desmond turns his attention back to me. “You did well, Charlotte, but you mustn’t rest on your laurels. You may have charmed Áine enough to gain an invite to his House, but you’ll need to stay on your game every second you’re in Tír na Lune.”
Lachlan clears his throat. “Permission to accompany her, Your Grace. If you please.”
Desmond tucks his chin over his shoulder. “What? Why?”
“Cernunnos’s rejection makes her vulnerable, especially to Áine’s people. She’ll need protection. Surely he won’t question why we sent her with a bodyguard.”
“Yes, but myownbodyguard?”
“That might help,” Aowen chimes in, tracing a long fingernail along her jawline. Have she and Lachlan discussed this? “It will signal Charlotte’s importance to you. And make everyone even more curious about her. Rumors will spread throughout the kingdom, maybe even all the way to Cernunnos himself in Tír na Dubh. A little manufactured intrigue might be just the thing to make him rethink his rejection.”
Desmond runs his hand over the back of his neck, addressing his knight. “Who’s going to help and protect me while you’re gone? You’re invaluable.”
Lachlan’s eyes twinkle, but he doesn’t budge. I suspect the man is the very definition of intractable. “Blevins and Carey are more than capable of managing your celestial knights in my absence. And I’ll have Sir Dunne assigned to guard your person.”
Desmond grouses, “See? You needthreepeople to replace you. Aowen will accompany Charlotte as her sponsor for the Season and Tír na Strelle’s official representative. I’m sure she’ll be quite enough.”
