‘You’re welcome.’ Rav looked pleased and returned the hug.
She took a scone from the bottom tray of the cake stand, spreading it with jam and thick clotted cream. ‘I could eat cakes and tea for every meal, I think.’ She was trying hard to live in the moment and enjoy herself.
‘If you want to come here every afternoon for cakes and tea, I’ll leave them my credit card details.’ Rav smiled. ‘They could reserve the Faye Morgan table for you. Near to the window and within earshot of the piano, but not too close.’
‘I could be a lady who lunches. No. A lady who teas.’ She smiled reassuringly at him.
‘If you ran for the bus after, it’d probably burn off the calories,’ Rav deadpanned, his eyes twinkling.
‘I get to come to the most exclusive hotel in London for afternoon tea every day, but I have to take the bus home?’ Faye pretended shock. ‘I’m appalled.’
‘We’ve got to budget for this champagne lifestyle somehow, Miss Morgan.’ Rav raised an eyebrow archly at her, and she giggled.
‘But we’re not drinking champagne,’ she mock-protested, reaching for the delicate white and gold china teapot and tilting it to pour herself another cup. Nothing came out. ‘Oh. I need a top-up.’
Rav nodded to a waiter who approached their table with a pleasant smile.
‘Yes, sir?’
‘My beautiful companion has just reminded me that we should be enjoying some champagne with our cakes, if you wouldn’t mind?’ Rav took a wine list from the waiter, trailed his finger down it and pointed to one of the champagne names written in flowing script. Faye’s eyes widened as the waiter nodded and went off with Rav’s order.
‘I didn’t mean…I was joking, Rav. Tea’s fine,’ she whispered when the waiter had gone. ‘This is already lovely. You don’t have to?—’
‘I know I don’t have to. I want to.’ He winked at her as the waiter reappeared with the champagne bottle in a silver ice bucket and two crystal champagne glasses. They were the wide, saucer-like ones that made Faye think of the roaring twenties. Rav took the bottle from the waiter. ‘I’ll pour. Thank you.’
Rav handed her a glass and raised his to meet hers.
‘To us,’ he said, meeting her eyes across the table. ‘To Faye Morgan, who has enchanted me.’
‘To us.’ She tapped his glass lightly with hers and sipped her drink; the bubbles fizzed pleasantly on her tongue and against her nose. ‘You’re lovely.’ She felt her cheeks flush a little. ‘You’remy…’ She searched for a silly phrase like his but couldn’t think of one. ‘You’re my knight in shining armour,’ she replied shyly, but meaning it. It was corny, but it was true.
Rav seemed touched, but looked away, embarrassed.
‘I’m not perfect by any stretch of the imagination, but thank you.’ He gave her a rueful smile. ‘I’ll do my best to…err, you know. Ride horses and…fight stuff for you? Now that I’m saying it, I don’t really know what knights do.’ He tapped his finger on his chin.
‘Hmmm. Save princesses? Wear uncomfortable armour?’ Faye laughed. ‘Those metal face-grilles on the helmets do look quite difficult. You know, for daily wear.’
‘I’ve heard they’re being re-engineered for today’s knight on the go. Mesh face-grilles. Breathable fabrics,’ Rav replied, poker-faced.
‘Kind of sounds like a balaclava if I’m being honest.’ Faye giggled. ‘Are you planning to rob a bank?’
‘I might have to if this continues.’ He gestured to the gold arches that supported the Renaissance-style friezed ceiling in the room set aside for afternoon tea, the pianist sitting at the white piano in the corner launching into ‘Moonlight Sonata’.‘I’m joking, I’m joking. It’s fine.’
‘We have been…I mean, we’ve been to some very expensive places since we’ve been in London.’ Faye felt the champagne warm her. ‘Are you sure it’s okay?’ Faye opened her eyes to her reflection in the mirrors opposite. Some had the silvered appearance of old mirrors that had, perhaps, once hung in decadent ballrooms or the powder rooms of grand houses. For a sudden moment, eyes that weren’t hers stared back at her, and she blinked; a shadow passed over the silvered glass, and a faint voice called her name.Faye Morgan, sidhe-leth. Faye, Faye.
It was nothing. A trick of the light, she told herself.Your imagination.
But when she looked into the mirror again, Finn Beatha’s face was staring back at her.
She jumped, startled. It had been months since she had seen Finn’s fine-featured, high-cheekboned face, though she had seen it constantly in her dreams. There had been other dreams, not only of Finn. Nightmares in which faeries dandled a baby she knew was hers in front of her, refusing her clutching hands.
Faye. I need you. I miss you, Finn’s voice sounded in her mind.
Faye closed her eyes and murmured a protection spell. She slipped her hand into her pocket and rubbed the small mirror which she’d inscribed with a banishing sigil.Be gone, be gone, she thought fiercely.No. I don’t want you. Please, leave me alone.
It seemed horribly unfair of Finn to appear after she and Rav had gone through such a terrible ordeal together. Coming to London had helped; it was good to get away from Abercolme. But it had still been hard for them to relax. Rav was still traumatised from his experience in Murias where he had been tortured, terrified and abused.
Faye. You must listen. The war is going badly for us. We need you,Finn continued. His voice was like honey.
