Page 44 of Heir of Autumn
Queen Aurelia glanced over her shoulder and laughed, but she said nothing, carrying on down the corridor. My laughter came more easily this time, like a knot had been untangled in my chest.
We entered a dining hall that was almost as opulent as the audience chamber itself, glittering chandeliers suspended above the table.
“This is the table we use for smaller occasions,” Yvette said, leading me toward my seat. “You know, for breaking fast among ourselves, or more intimate gatherings.”
“I do prefer it this way,” said Queen Aurelia, smoothing down her skirts as she took the seat at the head of the table, the most elaborately carved of the set. “Feasts are lovely every now and then, but hosting hundreds at once can be so exhausting.”
Hundreds? I looked around the dining hall, imagining the very, very long table that might replace the one we were sitting at, envisioning this enormous room filled with the chatter and laughter of fae nobility. No wonder the old faerie tales were so enchanting. Who wouldn’t want to stay here forever?
Yvette took the seat next to me, between myself and her mother. Sylvain sat across from Yvette, which left Satchel to sit across from me.
And talk about classy. They’d even provided Satchel with his own tiny table and chair, arranging it where a dinner plate would be. He frowned at his assortment of tiny cutlery, looked up at me, and shrugged.
Somewhere at the end of the hall, a door swung open. Platters of food drifted in from the kitchens, carried by unseen servants, delivering themselves to the table. One by one the gleaming silver covers came away, the rich aroma of soups and hearty stews tickling at my nostrils.
A smaller assortment of delicacies was placed in front of Satchel, his own tiny buffet spread. It warmed my heart knowing how much special attention they were giving my familiar, a pixie, among the smallest of all the creatures in the Verdance.
Then it chilled my blood to see him lunge at the spread, shoveling enormous piles of food onto his plate with his bare hands. He cackled as he returned to his seat, all cutlery and etiquette completely forgotten.
I leaned as close to the table as I dared, widening my eyes at him. “Pace yourself, Satchel. You’re going to choke on something.”
“A glorious way to die,” he said dreamily, between enormous bites of sweets and treats.
Queen Aurelia laughed good-naturedly, pleased that at least one of her guests was happily stuffing his face.
I shook my head and gave her an apologetic smile. “We’ve tried to tell him about using actual cutlery in polite company, but he just can’t help himself sometimes.”
“Nonsense,” Aurelia said, reaching for her fork to get a start on her salad. “Think nothing of it. Please, help yourselves.”
The hostess had started, and so I figured it was fine to start, too. The first course was a delicious-looking dandelion salad, dressed in what smelled like a fruity vinaigrette. Only — which one of these infernal contraptions on the table was supposed to be the salad fork?
Yvette gestured at the table, at the ridiculous array of beautiful brass cutlery that could probably cover a few months of my rent at the Wispwood.
“Just work your way in from the outside. I know, it’s absolute torture. But who do you think came up with these rules, anyway? I’ll give you a hint. Who enjoys laying down arbitrary rules and restrictions even more than you humans do?”
My jaw dropped. “You mean it was the fae?”
She chuckled. “It certainly wasn’t the demons, as much as they’d love to claim that they invented it. No, this is all us, and even here in the Verdance we argue over who started the tradition. The Court of Summer says they made it up, but naturally, I’m bound by honor and blood to say that it was an especially malicious machination of an Autumn Queen of old.”
“Oh, Mother loves this story,” Sylvain said, nodding at the queen. Aurelia rolled her eyes, but gave her children an amused smirk in the end.
“And as it goes,” Yvette continued, “an ancient Autumn Queen discovered that an especially fine way of entrapping human stragglers in the Verdance was to offer them a lavish meal. You’ve been warned about accepting food from the fae, no doubt. A common human superstition.”
I nodded as I munched on a mouthful of food, suddenly hesitant to swallow. And yet I’d swallowed Sylvain’s come a hundred times before. I was still fine, wasn’t I?
Yvette raised her fork, wagging it like a finger. “See, that’s where you humans get the story wrong. It isn’t about eating our food. It’s about having the rules of etiquette explained to you, and then breaking them, whether deliberately or by accident. Our ancestors once trapped a human king here because he tried to use a salad fork to eat his entrée. Can you believe that?”
My eyes widened as I looked down at my plate. Oh, shit. Was I using the right fork? Oh, gods. Was I trapped forever?
The three fae royals burst into laughter, mother, daughter, and son. I felt my cheeks burn as I focused my gaze sheepishly on my salad, too embarrassed to look up. Yvette pounded the heel of her palm on her chest, taking a sip of wine to clear the pipes. Queen Aurelia patted her lips with the corner of a napkin, her expression returning to its default setting. And Sylvain reached across the table to squeeze the back of my hand, smiling kindly when I looked into his eyes.
“Only a little joke, little human,” he said. “I do apologize, but Yvette here insisted on having her fun.”
Yvette chortled. “As if I myself would even know the difference.” She held up something that resembled a long corkscrew. “I mean, is this a torture device, or a very, very special tool for eating escargot? Who knows?”
Queen Aurelia cleared her throat softly. “If only someone had paid closer attention to her lessons in etiquette.”
“Oh, please, Mother,” Yvette said, groaning. “Weren’t our days as children filled with enough drudgery already? Lessons in the library, sessions in the training yard, and etiquette, and politics, and oh, it goes on forever.”
