A short, stout man clears his throat. "Perhaps the queen might like to have another crown, less formal, for everyday wear?"
"The queen certainly would," I immediately tell him, shooting Loch a glance. "If her advisors find it appropriate."
"It's not the worst idea," Loch concurs. "Are you offering your servicesTenith?" To me, he says, "The court of stone is home to a company of dwarves so reknowned for their skills in jewels they've tempted gods."
The lord preens. "We know our stones, from the most precious to the simplest, alike. If the queen wishes?—"
"I beg your pardon, I think you'll findweare far better suited for such a piece," a slender woman toward the center of the table ripostes. "Why, the very crown the queen wears right now was forged in blood, and if the new queen would like an alternative piece, blood will provide it."
There's a not-so-discreet cough now, from a man covered in glitter from head to toe. "Don't discount the mortal courts. We are called silver and gold for a reason, my queen. Working metal is our first trade."
"We can all agree that making the queen's next jewels is an honor many would love to be deemed worthy to be chosen for," Loch says. "So I say, let's not choose at all. All the courts can have a chance to present their pieces, and the queen will choose her favorite, offering a boon to its maker. What do you think?"
I say, I'm grateful the queen has a brother who knows what she's supposed to do.
Loch's eyes narrow as he glances at me. There are several strange looks thrown my way. Before I can ask about it, the doors of the dining halls open, and the steward announces the lord of the hunt.
The return of Calreth is good enough news, but upon spotting the girl at his side, I have a hard time stopping myself from jumping up or squealing.
Forcing myself to remain seated and give no outward show of my excitement is torture. Rain is here.
She looks around with wide eyes, more obviously impressed than Rachel.
When she spots me, my best friend doesn't exercise the same restraint I've shown. She doesn't know this world yet, nor its rules.
When you like something? Hide it.
She runs toward me, arms extended.
Before she can tackle me in a hug, she's stopped by two sets of swords, raised and pointed toward her—Caenan's and, to my great surprise, Relva's.
I clear my throat. "It's fine. I know her."
Caenan apologizes and sheathes his sword.
Relva doesn't. "She stinks of iron. And magic."
"Duh. I'm a witch, princess," Rain counters with an eye roll.Herprincessis clearly sarcastic, butaccurateall the same. "And if I wanted to hurt you, I would, pointy thing aimed at me or not."
My friend's finger touches the tip of the sword, and her black eyes flash red. The next moment, the sword's blade turns to water, pouring between them.
I don't know if Calreth warned her that she ought to show she's not prey right away. In all likelihood, she just used magic because shecanhere, amongst an array of wild creatures. Back home, witches tend to try to blend in.
"How did you do that?" Loch, of all people, wonders.
She shrugs. "Simple metamorphosis."
Now, with no one to stop her, she does hug me, and I let myself enjoy it for an entire second, before I try my hand at sharing my thoughts with her. I've never tried with a non-fae, not even Rachel.
You've just put a huge target on your back. Keep your distance.
Her eyes widen, and she takes a step back. "Did you just talk to me in my head? That's new. And disturbing. Can you hear my thoughts, too?"
I chuckle. Wasn't that exactly how I reacted the first time Ryther entered my mind?"Not yet. I'm new at this," I tell her.
"You don't look new. I mean…the crown, the dress? You look…" There's something a little sad in her eyes. "Right at home."
My heart swells with longing for simpler days, when home was her apartment rather than this castle, with hundreds, if not thousands of great halls and dangerous strangers.
