Page 75 of Fae Crown

Okay, so Dashiell wasn’t nearly as clever as I’d imagined.

Edsel spun on the taller fae. His dark, pupil-less eyes glimmered even in the diffuse light from the shaded windows. “No, of course it ain’t. It’s about the queen and what she’s done, and what she’ll do. It’s?—”

Edsel’s angry, shining eyes landed on me. He scowled and flung a pointing finger in my direction. “There. She’s awake. Ye wanted to talk to her. Well, now ye can.”

Edsel stomped from the room with squat, solid steps that rattled the delicate little vials in their case, and shook the glass of the windows too. The door opened and closed with a loud thud as he left.

Dashiellhmmphedand frowned at me. “You cause trouble everywhere you go, don’t you?”

Taken aback, my eyes widened. They opened nearly the entire way this time. Progress, indeed. “What’re you blaming me for? The queen’s the one who keeps trying to kill me. This is all on her.”

He only glared at me, his one blue eye blazing brighter than the brown.

Disbelieving, I huffed. “Or are you blaming me for daring to stay alive?”

The stare continued.

“Oh, I see. You’re blaming me for existing at all. Maybe you should point your accusation at your precious king instead. He’s the one who didn’t keep it in his breeches.”

Apparently stomping was a thing grown fae did.

Dashiell marched over to me and hovered by the head of my bed, his fingers clenching and unclenching at his sides. “If you weren’t so broken, I’d strike you for disparaging His Majesty.”

I shook my head, my incredulity overriding what should have been a happy moment at discovering greater range of motion, lesser pain in its wake. “You’re unbelievable, you know that? I didn’t ask for any of this. I don’t even want to be in Embermere. I was abducted and brought here against my will—by yourking, in case you forgot.”

The statement curled on the tip of my tongue even after I unleashed it, as if wanting me to retract it. Hadn’t Embermere become enough of my home along the way for me to want to fix it? To save those I cared about?

“He’s your king too,” Dashiell said.

My jaw tensed. “Maybe, maybe not. I can tell you what he isn’t. He’s certainly not my father. He may havegotten off inside my mother, but a lucky shot doesn’t make anyone a father. A father wouldn’t leave his right-hand man to attack his daughter for no greater sin than existing and refusing to roll over and die for the queen.”

My chest heaved. My breaths came easily now. I prepared for Dashiell’s next ridiculous accusation.

But his puffed-out chest visibly deflated as he retreated to the foot of my bed and sank onto it. His head shook gently, as if in lament. The little bells tinkled sadly.

“Your parents loved each other deeply.”

Although I had plenty more I wanted to say to him, like a child starved I waited and hoped for more.

He ran his fingers absently across the coverlet near my feet, tracing the path of the golden threads. “He’s never said it. Not even once. And if he hasn’t said it to me, I doubt he’s said it to anyone.”

He glanced up at me then. The anger was gone from his stare. “I believe Odelia and Oren were mates.” His shoulders drooped. “Are, I suppose, though I don’t think she even realizes it’s him when he visits.”

“Where is she now?” I asked more softly than he deserved after threatening to freaking hit me.

“Safe. Though ‘safe’ came many years too late for Odelia.”

“Where are we? Is she here? With me?”

I cringed inwardly at how eager I sounded to have her near, even all but dead as she was.

With those unusual, mismatched eyes, the likes of which I’d only ever heard of once before, in a dragonprotector, he studied me. He seemed to arrive at some decision.

“When His Majesty discovered that Odelia was alive and being kept”—his lips pursed heatedly for several moments—“and in such horrendous conditions, he immediately set to rectify the situation. He’s been building this home for her ever since. Beyond His Majesty, no one but Edsel and I know the exact location. There are a few trusted servants who deliver goods nearby. But only Edsel and I could lead anyone here to the front door.”

“What about whoever built the place? Surely it wasn’t you or Edsel.” I snorted. “Or the king.”

Dashiell huffed in affront. “Of course not. Menial labor such as construction is far beneath our stations.”

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