Page 121 of A Fae in Finance
“No.”
A rush of relief, followed by a much bigger rush of guilt, went through me. “I don’t mind,” I said. “I can step out, if it’s easier.”
“Your mind is of no matter to me,” the Queen said dismissively, flapping a hand at me to emphasize her point. This made me like her less again. My good opinion was as mutable as Play-Doh fresh from the container.
Sahir’s vines stiffened, but he only said, “If I am to speak of Miriam, I would prefer to do so in the form she recognizes.”
This seemed like a stupid thing to request from the Queen. I waited for one of her knights to kill him, wielding a comically large spear.
To my surprise, she nodded. He coalesced quickly into a humanoid shape, his face smooth and comfortingly familiar, and his visible hands still corded with thin twining branches. Maybe this was a compromise for her.
“My gratitude, Queen,” he said.
She gestured again, a clear demand for his explanation.
“As Gaheris said, Miriam was kind to me in the human realm. And as you so wisely noted, kindness is not prized here, nor there. Perhaps it should not be. Perhaps it is a weakness. But Miriam was a light in my long, lonely days, and a softness when the mortal realm was tough.”
My eyes were inexplicably damp, probably from the cold. I stared at the side of his face, but he didn’t look at me. He’d clenched his fists.
“The day that the Princeling brought Miriam into Faerie, I saw her at work in the mortal realm. It was time for the midday meal, and she and I stood together in an enclosed space. A third man could have joined us, but when he saw me, he turned away. I seethed with anger and disdain. Who were these weak mortals, to shun me? But she noticed my turmoil. She turned to comfort me. Miriam made me smile, when my heart could have hardened against humans.”
Again, the Queen glanced at me, her golden eyes flickering to my face and away before I could interpret her expression.
“Miriam is sharp, and bold, and unafraid, and brilliant, but even if she were not any of these things, it would not matter. She lives and breathes, feels and thinks, and should not have been trapped anywhere. I swore fealty to her to right a wrong I saw, as I have watched her right wrongs that she sees. I beg your eye, Queen, in seeing someone worthy and honorable, though her honor is different than ours.”
The Queen was quiet for a long time.
I shifted from foot to foot, suspended in terror and anticipation. I’d thought imminent death would make me more aware of my heart, of my lungs, of the flex and pull of my muscles. But I was mostly feeling fatigue in my arches.
The Queen took a step toward me, and I thought she would ask me to defend myself. But she only looked at me.
I inhaled.
Was I about to die?
Exhaled.
Would it hurt?
Inhaled.
Her somber eyes. Her golden diadem.
Exhaled.
She might have been reading my mind. If she was, she didn’t find my thoughts very interesting.
“Roman said I’m part faerie,” I blurted.
She blinked.
The moment stretched on.
I had an itch behind my knee. I needed to scratch it.
Inhaled.
I kept my shoulders straight. Matched her steady stare.
