Page 83 of A Court of Hearts and Hunger
“You paint very quickly,” he murmurs. “Swift little Seelie, clever and talented. I like you.” He sweeps my hair off my neck and leans in, placing a kiss just below my ear.
Heart pounding, I turn to face him.It’s all part of the game, part of the game…
His mouth stretches in an impossibly wide smile. “Fancy some company tonight? I’ll show you all the things the Seelie men won’t do in bed.”
From what I know of Seelie men, there’s not much they won’t do. But I don’t argue the point.
“I would love that,” I say softly as he moves in, aligning his body with mine. His fingers cup my side, his thumb stroking the underside of my breast. “But I’m so tired, and it’s nearly dawn. Perhaps tomorrow night?”
Impatience twists his handsome face. “Are you shy, little Seelie?”
“Simply exhausted.”
“I could lick you to sleep.”
Gods, no. The only tongue I want on me is Fin’s.
But this Fae is pushy, and I have to give him something to keep him interested. Otherwise he might not make me another offer, and I need to be invited to his home.
Rising on my toes, I press a kiss to his cheek. It’s warm, light, tantalizing. A promise.
“Tomorrow,” I whisper.
“Seelie temptress.”
I smile at him and step away, following one of the servants through the dwindling crowd and into the palace.
The rooms in the Entertainer’s Wing are luxurious beyond anything I’ve seen before. Huge, ornate bedframes of black wood, with headboards that stretch from floor to ceiling, are flanked by darkly floral paintings of strange plants I’ve never encountered. We pass one room that features a bed decorated with carven batwings, swathed in dark gray sheets, with a blood-red blanket draped over the end, pooling on the floor beside it.
My room has a tufted headboard of leathery black, with towering spindles connected by a thin carved arch. Above the arch are piled dark red blossoms, redolent with rich sweetness. The walls are a deep, soft black, and the floorboards are black, sprinkled with crimson petals. Golden-orange orbs cluster in the corners of the ceiling, providing light.
“There’s a bathing room over there.” The servant points to a door with a handle that looks like a rib bone. “The Queen won’t rise until nearly noon tomorrow. We’ll call for you when it’s time for your game of croquet. Would you like any food or drink?”
But Fin and I already have a plan for that. “No,” I respond sharply, omitting any thanks.
I freshen up in the bathing room, and when I return, a glass bottle sits on the floor, bearing a tag that says, “Drink me.” Next to the bottle, inside a folded cloth, are warm rolls crusted with pink sugar crystals that say, “Eat me.” And right beside the meal is a set of clothes with a tag that reads, “Wear me.”
A smile spreads over my face.
This was part of our plan—a part we weren’t sure would work. Fin had to follow me and the servant, note which room was mine, and conjure the food, drink, and clothing for me while standing somewhere nearby. Then he transported the supplies right through the wall so no one would see him entering my room. I wish I could have watched him do it; I haven’t seen him transport anything since he moved the chair on my second night in his house.
That feels like a lifetime ago. I’m so much more myself now. More confident, more informed, more adventurous, more capable of handling the dangers of Faerie.
But I miss Fin. I’m used to sharing meals and a bed with him, and his absence grates at my consciousness.
The conjured food fills my stomach, but it’s not as satisfying as real food. In the same way, knowing Fin is somewhere in the palace is reassuring… but it’s not quite enough.
I manage to get a few hours’ sleep, but I’m up and dressed long before an Unseelie servant arrives to take me to the Queen’s garden for croquet.
Papa, Louisa, and I played croquet sometimes. Our games usually ended in arguments, wherein either Papa or Louisa—or both—would storm off, leaving me alone to pull up the wickets and collect the mallets.
Though the rules appear to be the same, this game of croquet is far more unsettling, because from what I can tell, everything in the Queen’s garden is either poisonous or carnivorous. Immense pitcher plants border the lawn, each one large enough to hold an entire body. They glow a faint, maleficent orange, lighting up the otherwise gray day. Beyond them tower immense flytraps with raw red mouths and serrated edges, and behind those rise hedges with thorns as long as my arm.
The outfit Fin created for me is a savage-looking gown with glowing purple streaks snaking through it, framing the curves of my body. It makes me look absolutely toxic, which is no doubt what he intended.
I’m wearing the hat Ygraine made me, which stays securely planted on my head without any pins. I’m also wearing my best Unseelie attitude, which involves eyeing everyone suspiciously except for the Queen and Caer, who has garnered an invitation to the game as well. To him, and to the Queen of Hearts, I give my most devilish smiles.
Fin is playing croquet too, in the second group of four. He eyes me occasionally—disdainfully, curiously, as one Seelie might be aware of another citizen of Lir’s kingdom.
