“I was fine,” she huffed.
I didn’t believe a word of it. “You were lying there, comatose, and would’ve stayed that way for who knows how long had I not saved you.”
“Saved me?” A bark of laughter escaped her lips. “I didn’t need saving. I said I was fine. You’d know that if you knew anything about naturels. Like the fact that we do not take from life, we reinforce it.”
The burst of power I’d gotten through the servant suddenly made sense. The fae must’ve been surviving on low irregular feedings, like a lot of the lower fae in our court. When she’d touched Isay, her natural instinct to reinforce life must’ve kicked in and offered her ecos willingly.
I threw my hands up, giving her a win in this discussion. “Let me escort you back to your quarters before I wake up the king.”
From buttheaded to frightened in a blink of an eye, Isay shook her head frantically. “No. The king does not have to know. In fact, the fewer people who know about this, the better.”
“The king most certainly has to know, Princess. Your safety in this court depends on him knowing.”
“But—” Isay’s eyes searched the kitchen until she found the servant girl still crouching by the doorway with her head between her knees. Her eyes threw daggers at me. “What did you do to her?”
“What makes you think it was something I did?” I retorted sharply. “She brought this on herself when she stole from you.”
She scoffed, “And you’re what? The enforcer of laws?”
If I could have touched her, I would have grabbed her wrist and dragged her back to her room like a misbehaving child. But as it stood there was no way anyone in this court would touch her again no matter how shortly. Not even to take her to her quarters. Certainly not as part of a lame joke between friends, or a stupid dare.
And kissing her pouty lips was absolutely out of the question. So why did I feel like I wanted to do just that when her face contorted into an adorable frown?
I ground out, “I’m taking you to your rooms whether you like it or not. The servant will be all right.”
“So you’re not going to Grath right after?” Isay asked.
“That’s not what I said.”
“Then you’ll go to Grath but will not tell him all of what happened?” she pressed.
“Also not it.”
“Then how can you say that the servant will be all right?”
My lips thinned. “I suppose I can’t.”
Chapter 5
ISAY
TWO EVENTLESS DAYS PASSED BEFORE I WAS INVITED TO MEET THE king. I’d held onto a semblance of hope that Karmuth had changed his mind. When the invitation came, I knew he hadn’t.
I hated him and his smug face voicing the words that he’d saved me. I hated his sense of duty that chose royalty over a commoner, as if my life mattered more than the kitchen maid’s now that I’d acquired an unwanted title. I hated that part of me refused to hate him and admired his resourcefulness instead.
He’d seen me pull energy from a few leaves of parsley and brought me a bouquet of flowers for full recovery, expecting flatteries in return. I’d been rightfully pissed off. While the parsley was already on its way to perishing, the flowers had been full of life before they’d been ripped out of the ground.
I thought I’d seen concern in his eyes before it faded to annoyance. Well, now I was the one annoyed at him for playing by the book. I thought dark fae bent the rules more often than not, but it turned out they were as big at tattling off to gain favour from their superiors as the worst of us.
I took my sweet time that morning getting ready, fuming already before I’d heard what Grath had to say. He could’ve had a family breakfast instead of the official invitation I’d received tucked under the door stating the time and place I was expected.
The time was right now, the place being the throne room. It couldn’t get any more official than that.
I wasn’t one for dramatics, but if they expected me to happily waltz in and pretend I was content with condemning an innocent to a death sentence, dark fae or not, they didn’t know me at all. Having a meeting before breakfast wasn’t good on my nerves and made me stall even longer in front of the mirrored armoire.
My skin had stopped glowing yesterday around midday from collecting from the flowers Karmuth had brought me. While they’d been carelessly torn from their growing spot, they’d radiated life and restored what was taken in abundance. I’d had an radiant flush from them that I hid by not leaving my quarters.
I’d already been a beacon of temptation; walking around with excess ecos would’ve not only inspired questions but would’ve also been dangerous.
Bored as I was, I still didn’t enjoy my morning plans being made for me, especially as I was certain I wouldn’t find this particular meeting pleasant. Since I was yet to be scolded on my drunkenness during the wedding party, nor mentioned the unfortunate accident in the kitchen, I was in double trouble when it came to facing my mother and Grath. As to why it had to be in the throne room, I couldn’t begin to fathom.
I huffed out a breath when fidgeting with the rounded flat collar of my simple white dress did nothing to ease my nerves. I couldn’t stall any longer. I was too bad of a liar to be able to look the king in the eye and say I’d merely slept in.
I dragged my feet down the stairs to the grand entrance of the palace and looked for any obvious signs directing toward the throne room, in turn wandering around the ground floor of the opulent building longer than I’d intended to. Within my almost two weeks of staying in the palace I’d yet to receive a full tour of the place.
Wedding planning and the honeymoon phase took any focused attention away from the king’s new stepdaughter. Unless it involved fae leering at me from afar, of course.
It wasn’t fully my fault when I finally stumbled into the throne room sweaty, hungry, and more annoyed than I started. More than just two sets of eyes turned on me, and I stopped dead in my tracks.
The prince was there with his whole ensemble of warriors, Karmuth’s lighter locks of hair striking out among the rest of them. I would not look at him. No, I would not… but my eyes steered towards him anyway, drinking in his neatly trimmed beard and sharp gaze.
Looking away before I could fall into his deep blue eyes, I stared at my mother seated next to the king on a black velvet-covered throne instead. The picture of royalty, decadence.
I tried to force my face into a smile, but I was nervous again. All I could manage was a grimace.
“I’d apologise for being late, but the invitation did not come with blueprints of the palace.”
“Isay—” my mother began, and I bit my lip.
