Page 21 of The Endless Dance

My breath catches, and I find myself leaning in to the male, and, if I am not mistaken, he does the same.

Then, as if a cord has snapped, the High Lord breaks out of his trance and turns away.

I blink rapidly and try to clear my thoughts. What the fuck was that? Was I about to… No. Absolutely not. I would never give in to the magnetic pull of the High Lord of Light, or any fae for that matter.

“Where were you even going with all that talk, anyway?” I ask quickly.

The High Lord pauses as he steps past the threshold. “This chamber doesn’t belong to the High Lord’s wife. It belongs to his mate.”

Chapter Nine

The bastard was becoming annoyingly great at leaving after dropping a damn bombshell. And, as if the revelation about me living in the home of his mate, sleeping in her bed, wasn’t bad enough, he walked straight through the locked door I hadn’t been able to open earlier.

I’d marched straight over after he had pulled it closed behind him and turned the handle. Fucking locked. After much slapping at the door, jiggling of the handle and swearing, I’d given up and returned to the balcony.

That was two days ago. Two days since I had seen the infuriating fae bastard. Two days of jiggling that damn locked door. Two days of being too afraid to do anything but explore my rooms, read in the sunlight on my balcony, and spy on the fae as they went about their business below.

But as I open my eyes and sigh into my cloudlike pillow and cocoon of blankets, something clicks. I needed to get out of here.

The decision had barely crossed my mind before I was out of bed, nightgown on the floor three steps behind me and closet door in my hand.

It takes seconds for me to choose my outfit. I bypass the endless array of dresses and head straight for the drawers. I grab some underwear first. I had gone through the entire three drawers of them during my isolation, and not a single pair was designed to be comfortable. Fortunately, after complaining listlessly to Rita, Frieda and Laska during their regular visits, I found the top drawer had been emptied of lace and refilled with a meagre supply of sports bras and hipsters. I told them they were literally lifesavers, to which Laska had grimaced. Definitely a lace girl, that one.

I pull on a simple cream set, then chuck on some baby blue palazzos and a pale-yellow cropped top. I browse quickly through the shoes, looking for the simple pair of thinly strapped beige sandals I had spotted during one of my visits to the small room. There.

I duck back out and sit on the bed to put them on. As I am buckling the final strap, I become aware of a very quiet, very insistent tapping sound. Frowning, I look to the veranda, not for a second believing someone could be on my private terrace. I blink, then grin in pleasant surprise at the tiny pixie fluttering by the door handle like a large, glittering insect. Not that I would ever compare her to one, well, not to her face at least.

“Pixel!” I exclaim as I open the door to let her in. Pixel flutters by instantly, darting between every nook and cranny as she inspects my room.

“Oh, Delta!” the pixie says in her high, ringing voice. “I was pleasantly surprised when the High Lord of Light claimed you! How lucky indeed to be chosen by such a male!”

My grin melts into a sneer. “You hold the High Lord in an awfully bright light, Pixel,” I say grouchily, slumping into a gently cushioned chair by the makeup desk.

Pixel, seemingly having finished her peruse of my rooms, settles herself upon a jar of what looks to be the glitter my handmaids had smothered me in after the Hunt. She leans back with her tiny palms planted behind her and starts swinging her legs happily. Her face practically glows with the dreamy look she wears.

“High Lord Draekoh,” she smiles. “Yes. Pixies shall always worship him. He did, after all, save our entire species.”

Now that had me curious. “He… saved your people?” I try to filter the doubt from my voice, but it must leak through, for Pixels' joy evaporates, and she pouts at me.

“Yes, Delta, he did. The previous High Lord of Light was a terrible, cruel master. He kept pixies enslaved. Made us produce pixie dust for his pleasure. You see, as the faerie fruit inebriates humans, pixie dust does the same to fae.”

“It’s like a drug to them?”

Pixel nods glumly. “Indeed. When High Lord Draekoh came to rule, he prohibited the use of pixie dust, shut down the factories where they kept us, killed those who had fought, imprisoned many more, and, of course, set the pixies free.”

“I’m so sorry you had to go through that,” I tell her honestly. Truly, being imprisoned in a strange world by strange beings was one thing, but being forced to produce for them was another. Though, I suppose, the first women brought to Faezgard endured similar treatment, since they were literally used to produce more fae.

Pixel giggles. “Oh, don’t be silly! I wasn’t even alive then!”

I frown. I knew fae had longer lifespans than humans, but surely High Lord Draekoh couldn’t be more than late twenties? And Pixel was definitely younger than that. Her entire being shouted adolescent.

“It’s been almost six hundred years since the pixies were freed,” Pixel says casually.

I about fall from my chair. “Six hundred years? How freaking old is Draekoh?”

Pixel's eyes widen at my blatant disregard for the High Lord's title. “Why, I don’t know for sure, though he was quite young when he came to be High Lord of Light, perhaps only one or two hundred years old.”

I fold my arms. “Damn bastard looks mighty fine for an eight-hundred-year-old male. How long do fae live for, anyway?”