Page 136 of A Sin So Pure

“No wings?” The Seelie Queen pouts. But while her expression is animated, her blue eyes are keen, cutting across the seven of us.

“Not today,” Silas says.

The queen stares at him, as if she is waiting for further explanation, of which she gets none.

That’s when I notice that the Seelie Virtues all have their wings out, and although most are tucked tight and low like the queen’s, some still poke out over their shoulders.

A shiver runs down my back, bracketing my spine, my own wings itching to be free.

“Maybe later, once the real festivities have begun.” She winks. “I know it’s all very new to the rest of you, but Solstice used to be a weeklong revelry meant to honor the first Queen.”

“We may be younglings by your standards, but we are well aware of the history, Oonagh,” Silas says, addressing the Seelie Queen by her given name. Trepidation trickles over the once light energy of the room. “Now, I’d like to introduce the next generation of Unseelie leaders. Over here we have Envy…”

Silas introduces us one by one, going down the line.

“…then this is Lust. Isn’t she the spitting image of her mother? You must remember.”

I smile and tilt my head graciously when Silas introduces me.

“And last, we have our newest Pride.”

“Your Majesty,” Nora greets, red-stained lips tilting up a fraction as she dips her head in respect.

Oonagh licks her lips, eyes rolling over Nora’s frame.

“The infamous soul-stealer?” the queen coos to Silas. “Maybe you’ll allow her to demonstrate the magic I’ve heard so many rumors about.”

“Did you have someone specific in mind, or are we drawing sticks?” Nora asks.

The queen laughs—her entourage following suit—and the tension in the air lessens a fraction.

“You’re a funny one, Pride,” Oonagh says. She claps her hands excitedly, her dress tinkling with the movement. “Now our turn. Though not much has changed since you were here last, Silas.”

She starts at my end first, with the two before Nora and me, Chastity and Charity. They are clearly sisters, with matching round faces, wide noses, and full lips framed by black braids that flow in straight lines over their shoulders. Their light brown skin shines warm against the cream-colored dresses they wear. They both look bored as their queen introduces them.

Next are Temperance and Diligence, two women who must be verging on the Fading, given their salt and pepper hair. One wears it long and wavy over her pale features. The other has it cropped short with finger waves; she’s how I imagine Gluttony will look in a hundred years.

And then there are the men.

Humility doesn’t have any wrinkles, but his rough beard, which is cropped short to his chiseled jaw, hints at a maturity only found with age.

Benevolence is dashing—a young man whose smile shines bright against his tanned skin. His wide smile, lined with a curved mustache, gives him an innocent air, but his mossy-green eyes spark with mischief. When the queen calls him out, he waves a hello.

Patience is last, the queen’s right hand. As he is introduced, his energy flares with satisfaction. Running his hand over his coifed white hair, his lips quirk into a smug smile. Deep crow’s feet bracket a set of emerald eyes.

On second glance, I note the similarities between him and Benevolence at his side; they have the same roman nose, sharp cheekbones, and tall-but-lean stature. While their coloring is different, Benevolence sporting a deep tan and Patience as pale as paper, they are clearly family.

When the Seelie Queen is finished, I turn over each of their titles, reconciling them with the fae before me. They feign innocence with their titles, cloaked in their white and cream fabrics. They tease dainty dispositions with their fragile wings, but lurking under the surface of each one of their gazes is a snake waiting for its moment to strike.

“Cheers to a beautiful Solstice, Silas darling,” Oonagh croons, raising her glass and then downing it all in one go. Flirtatious eyes roam across the Sins. “I hope you all will join us tonight at the bacchanalia. It’s a wonderful tradition to partake.”

Silas shoots her a tight-lipped smile, making her no promises of our presence at the revelry tonight, and the group breaks. Most rush to the food, ravenous as they pile their plates with breakfast. A few linger, Silas, Nora, and I stand together, a united front opposite Patience and Benevolence.

Wrath, for some reason, has disappeared.

“It’s a party, isn’t it? Where’s the music?” Oonagh calls as she scurries off to reprimand a green, beetle-wing colored sprite for the lack of background music.

Patience clears his throat, hands digging into the pockets of his trousers.

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