Page 67 of Immortal Sins
Cole’s brows form a thin line, and he jumps over the railing. “Go grab breakfast. I’ll catch up.”
I nod. Breakfast. That’s another mystery I intend to solve.
Curious about the servants of the estate—who never make their presence known—I wander into the narrow stairway behind the library. Besides Mary, I haven’t seen any servant, maid, or butler, but the floors are always shiny, and fresh clothes are neatly folded on Cole’s dresser every morning. Magic might help with chores, but a Fae sorcerer would never waste his talents on housekeeping.
I suspect Cole asked his staff to remain invisible. I need to figure out why.
At the bottom of the stairs, a petite, delicate woman is cutting charcuteries and plating them on a marble island in the middle of the kitchen. A white courtesan’s uniform hugs her tanned body. The dark, empty mouth of the wood-fired oven looms behind her. Large sinks are tucked in the back of the room. This lodge is fully-equipped for a royal feast.
The woman’s shoulders hitch at my approach, but she continues to prepare the plate. Sequins glitter under the torches’ light, and a gold belly-button ring shines on her bare stomach.
I walk to her and extend my hand. “Hi, I’m Jules.”
“I know who you are, your highness.” The words—as well as her entire demeanor— are stiff and tight.
I look at her once more. With her beautiful brown hair braided to perfection, and her Faerie-sun-kissed bronze skin, she’s as beautiful as mortals come.
Did Cole use to sleep with her?
I grip the edge of the island, my knuckles white, trying not to care about the answer. “What’s your name?”
“Iseult.”
I draw in a deep breath. “Do you like it here?”
She doesn’t quite meet my gaze. “It’s an honor to serve the prince.”
I fail to mask a cringe. “Answer me truthfully. Is being here your choice? Your desire?”
She deposits the knife on the cutting board. “It’s my choice, but not my desire.”
I get the feeling she would never speak so freely in front of the Fae, but I’m her peer, and the disdain she clearly has for my rise to fame works in my favor here. “How?”
“My family is poor. I have twelve brothers and sisters, and my position here assures them a future. When I first came to court, I was ecstatic, but the novelty of the glitz and glamor faded with time. I could leave, but then one of my siblings would replace me. Don’t think I’m not grateful. I am. I was chosen, and I am content.”
Despite Cole’s claims, mortals that serve the Fae do have other ambitions in life. They’re not slaves by the strictest meaning of the word, but they are stuck in the caste system. While I recognize much of the mortal world in Iseult’s situation, it doesn’t ease my anguish at her predicament.
Dad’s position always allowed me choices that most mortals on Earth don’t have. A privilege I often forget about because I didn’t have to fight for it.
Still… Slaving away at a day job you hate doesn’t feel the same to me as serving the every whim of Fae royalty and offering them your whole future—body and soul.
“Now, please let me finish my task in peace,” she dismisses me.
Dad wasn’t right about Faerie, but Cole doesn’t see it exactly for what it is, either.
Flynn springs open the kitchen door. “Come. Now.”
The urgency written in the worried curve of his brow pushes me into action, and I quickly dash over to him. “What’s going on?”
“Trent is here,” Flynn answers quietly, his eyes wide.
“What?”
“You heard me.”
I run after him up the stairs to the library, and he quickly leads me to the main room, where two guards dressed in black and silver uniforms stand closely on each side of Trent Darkwood.
The vampire stands stiff as a statue, but his shoulders ease when I come into view. Cole waves away the guards with a dismissive sleight of hand and motions for Trent to sit on the velvet couch closest to the fire. Flynn sits on the opposite side and glares at him, his jittery legs distracting as hell.
