Page 37 of The Fae King's Labyrinth

“Assisting?” The brownie shuffled his feet.

“Carrying the towels?” the sprite offered with a note of hopefulness.

“Let Furintag deal with it,” Ghost ordered. “Go prepare the king’s bath.”

The pair bowed and dashed away to where another servant was setting up a tub for me.

“Your guest has caused quite a disturbance below stairs,” Soren informed me gravely from behind my chair. “It is only a matter of time before the nobles get wind of it.”

“She is none of their concern.” I put a bite of food into my mouth with a fake casual air. Inwardly, I was cringing. I should’ve realized what a hassle having her with me would be. She was the triple novelty: a human, a shapeshifter, and—the most fascinating of all—a female.

Most of the servants hadn’t seen a woman of any kind since they left their homes and entered service. The elder servants had more training and decorum, but even they would be curious.

I sighed at the thought of moon-eyed swains hanging on her every word or scheming about how to steal her away. Then there would be those who would hate her appearance in the palace because it signaled the end of an era, the end of a male-only court.

“Is everything to your taste, sire?” Soren asked from near my elbow.

“It is. I’m merely weary.” I pushed my chair back from the table. “Dismiss the servants and let yourself out after them. I need rest.”

“Of course, sire.” But instead of moving away, he continued to hover.

“What is it, Soren?”

“When should I expect you in the office tomorrow?”

I grimaced. “I will send for you when I am ready to work.” Waving him away, I leaned back in my seat once more and rested my eyes. The pressure of the curse had eased to a slight, occasional twinge now that the moon had set. The strongersensation of the mate binding coiled around my arm, rippling and warming periodically.

Once Soren set his mind to it, he could get things done quickly. Within a few moments, the room had cleared. Ghost rejoined me after he closed the door behind Soren and the last servant.

“She’s going to be trouble,” Ghost observed as he sat down next to me.

“Not through any fault of her own.” I eyed my room. “We’ll need to rearrange some furniture.”

He nodded. “Your bed is too far from hers.”

“And I can’t reach anything. Apologies for not asking some servants to stay.”

He regarded me with amusement. “Those weaklings?” He snorted and the scent of smoke teased my nose. “I prefer working alone.”

“I can help some,” I said, moving to stand.

“No. Don’t risk drowning her.”

I acknowledged his point with a grim nod. If I moved out of range, Calypso would likely lose consciousness again and do just that.

So he set to work, and I watched, taking great care to stay in range. By the time Calypso emerged from the dressing room, my bed had been dragged across the room so the head stood against the wall shared with the dressing room. My worktable had been moved to stand next to one of the southern windows, and the dining table and chairs had been banished to the far side of the room.

Calypso regarded all the changes with wide eyes. She appeared tiny and delicate standing within the frame of the fae-sized door. Perhaps it was the lack of dirt and grime, or maybe her clean clothing, but she somehow appeared more vulnerable than I remembered.

“How are you going to bathe?” Her large silvery-gray eyes fixed on the bathing tub across the room, far out of range of the sitting room.

“We have a folding screen and a chaperone. I am certain we shall manage.”

“In the meantime, you can rest on His Majesty’s bed.” Ghost had his back to us, setting up the screen to hide the bathing area, and missed Calypso’s glare at him.

“I am not sleeping in his bed.”

“Pardon, my lady, but I merely suggested you rest. Both of you survived an ordeal. Rest is required while you wait.” He glanced over his shoulder at her. “You could always stand while the king cleanses himself.”

---