Page 58 of My Fae Lady

“Water,” the duke begged.

I let him collapse onto the settee. His daughter hovered over him.

“You’ll have to go and fetch the water yourself, Giselle,” I told her. “House is not happy with me at the moment.”

“Oh dear! What on earth happened?”

“House would have preferred I let it consume your father, so he’d stop trying to trap it in a Seelie fountain.”

Giselle’s irises turned a livid shade of green. “Light save us! Father, I told you not to try to contain the wild magic, and you swore you wouldn’t! Of all the foolish endeavors—”

“Giselle, I’m so thirsty,” the duke pleaded, clutching at his throat. “Could you find it in your heart to lecture me later?”

Her jaw set. She stood there for a moment, a war raging behind her colorful eyes. “Fine,” she said, resigned. “I’ll be right back, Father. I’ll bring you all the water I can carry, but this isn’t over. I’ve never been so angry with you. Or so disappointed.”

She lifted her skirts up over her ankles and hurried out of the room. I watched her retreating back, and the room filled with a heavy silence.

“Sylvan Rook?” The duke said, his voice a slow drawl.

“That’s my name, yes,” I said.

“Of Gremyl Woods?” he said, and he no longer sounded weak or tired. I sensed he was an old fae and rather fit for spending so many years trapped in a small room. I was rather fit after my enchanted sleep, so this did not surprise me, but already color was returning to his face. “Aren’t you supposed to be dead?”

The hair on the back of my neck rose. I turned to face him. “You know who I am?”

A muscle in his narrow jaw jumped. “I know who you are.”

“Then the Bartons haven’t forgotten me,” I said.

He filled his hand with a bright blue faelight. The light expanded into a flame. The duke was spry. He flung himself at me and shoved the Seelie flame at my face. I batted his arm away.

“Don’t make me kill you!” I barked as his weight plowed into me. I lacked balance without my wings, and we went tumbling to the floor.

I had him in size, but he was light and quick. He was on me again, his knee in my chest, the heat of the fae flame blazing hot near my face.

Giselle rushed into the room, dropping a mug and pitcher of water on the floor, splashing the hem of her dressing gown.

“House,” she screamed, “your lord is in danger! Protect him!”

The arms of the chair before us sprang to life, grabbing up Percival into its boards and pillows and trapping him in a strange cushioned hug. He kicked his feet wildly, fighting to free himself.

“I thought I couldn’t possibly be more angry with you, Father,” Giselle said coldly. “First you betrayed me by lying to me, but now you’ve attacked my husband!”

“Daughter!” Percival bellowed. “You wouldn’t let this wild manor kill me, would you?”

Her eyes were as cold and determined a blue as a shield maiden of old. Her expression went flat and the tone of her voice stiffened. “I would do so much worse than kill you, Father, if you hurt my husband! I’d let Sylvan cut off your ears, then I’d shove you into a tree where you could live out the rest of your immortality. Our family treated him no better!”

“But I’m your father!”

“And I’m your daughter!” Angry emerald green shot brightly through her irises. “The daughter you abandoned to do as you please for decades at a time. The daughter you were not here for as your conniving family members circled to torment me yet again! The daughter whose guidance you refused to heed when I told you to leave House alone! My husband Sylvan was here, thank the light. He saved me from those vultures you call blood. And this is how you repay him for the welfare of your daughter? You attack him after our family has already wounded and stolen so much from him?”

The fight left his body, and he blinked at me. “Did you call him your husband? Has the whole world gone mad? Surely my ears are deceiving me!”

“No trick has been spoken,” I said, climbing slowly to my feet. “Giselle is my wife, and this is our home.”

Giselle appeared at my elbow, expression placid, jaw set. “And you’ve overstayed your welcome, Father.”

“House,” I called and I felt the wild magic flowing not only under my feet but through me as well. “Throw out the intruder . . . but don’t try to eat him.”