My head spins. There it is.
Lord Yelling opens the box to reveal a thin chain with a rose pendant, the emblem of his house.
“You’re speechless.” He lifts a hand and brushes a tendril of hair behind my ear.
“I—I can’t.” My legs finally work, and I step back, out of his reach. “Everyone knows the affections of a courtesan are manufactured. Your feelings, they aren’t real. You would regret it.”
“How would you know?” Yelling’s eyes grow stormy. The corners of his mouth twitch before his lips twist into a snarl. “So much time we’ve gotten to know each other. I’ve only told you the truth.”
“As have I.” He was always nice to talk to, but everything has always been shallow.
Yelling snarls. “Trollop. I’ve wasted so much time on you.” He stomps toward me. His wings flitter in agitation as if he can’t decide whether to fly or walk. They snap out, startling me as much as the backhand does.
I press a hand to my stinging cheek. “You know the rules.” Never hit a courtesan, unless it’s been negotiated and written into a contract. Never draw blood. The copper taste fills my mouth where my flesh mashed against my cheek.
“And you know how to toy with people’s emotions so well they think you’ve fallen in love with them.”
“That’s the job. That’s?—”
“No!”
I’m pressed against the door and I frantically use my free hand to find the handle, but Yelling doesn’t let up.
“You’ll say yes or?—”
“Or what?” I raise my voice, hoping the guards outside hear. “You’ve hit a courtesan. You’ll be lucky if you’re ever allowed to bed one in this court again, let alone stay here.” I pound on the door. Begging with my mind for a guard, not that they’d hear me. Telepathy isn’t a Fae gift. I never saw Yelling reacting this way.
I push at him just as the door swings open and two guards flank him.
I fall to my knees as they take him away. His shouts echo through the corridor.
A third guard drops to his knees in front of me and lifts my chin to face him. “He hit you.”
I nod and open my mouth to reveal the cut and set Yelling’s fate before I can heal.
“I’m so sorry, Wren. I never would have thought Yelling of all people.”
“I rejected his proposal of companionship.” I wave towards the forgotten box on the floor.
“He shouldn’t have reacted that way.” The guard, Yuri, if I remember correctly, lifts me to my feet. “We have to report this to the King.”
“I know.” My limbs tremble as I follow his lead. My long hair must be a tangled mess. My clothes are rumpled. I’m in no state to speak to royalty. Please let my mother not witness my testimony. I don’t want her to see me this way.
The walk to the throne room in the bright morning light is a slodge.
“I need to fly,” I say to Yuri. He nods and I take flight, lifting to midway of the tall ceiling.
There’s commotion once we finally make it to the huge oak doors. The guards here wave us in. Yelling is already, well, yelling at the king.
Thankfully, my mother isn’t here. The queen is, and she gives me a sympathetic look.
“Oh Wren, you poor thing,” she says, holding out a hand as we approach. She’s my mother’s best friend and her affection is familiar to me. I take her offered hand, and she squeezes mine back.
“That Autumn Fae slut?—”
Her Majesty slaps Yelling. “You will address Wren properly. He is not as you say. He is in good standing with the Winter Court.”
My own cheek twinges from the memory of Yelling’s hit.
