Page 80 of The Shadow Fae Rhapsody
“Will you go to the feast with me?” Little fawn asks with no hope of reply.
My chest hollows and my heart ceases beating at the question. I brush the hurt aside and keep myself still.
She sighs. “It’s worth the shot.”
Then I feel her lips brushing against the corner of my jaw, softer than a fluttering butterfly.
A silent whisper of her light footsteps and the door closes. I peel my eyes open after she’s long gone from the room.
I know instantly that if Rhianelle ever leaves me, I won’t survive it. It will finally be the end of my sanity.
Because that featherlight kiss she gave me… I feel it down to my fucking soul.
Chapter 11 Svenn
Ineed something to wear to the ceremonial feast. I don’t know who else to turn for matter such as this, other than the healer who has tailored all my clothing.
The blonde-haired seamstress answers the door at the third knock. I humbly ask her for an evening attire, something that will not bring shame to little fawn.
She does not question me at the request. “Come on in,” she invites with an unruffled calm.
The lance leaning behind the door next to the coat rack tells me she is more than just a healer and a seamstress.
Her movement is regal and proper as she leads me straight to a wide fitting room at the back of her chamber. I’m certain little fawn chose to mirror this noble lady’s countenance as part of her High Elf mask.
A mild amusement gleams in her eyes at the sight of my reflection in the large oval mirror. That’s about the most emotion I get from her so far. She gestures to the clothing mounted on the wall. “The Queen left you this.”
Of course Nel would do that.
As the lady leaves to allow me the privacy to adorn my new attire, I can’t help but regret the way I refused little fawn’s wish this morning. She truly wants me to be there.
The suit fits me perfectly like a second skin the moment I slip into it. Smooth velvet Stygian material makes up the fabric, interlaced with a dark crimson undertone.
Shadow dripped in blood.
I know it looks good because the seamstress offers me her second emotion for the day the moment she sees me.
Pride.
“The queen designed it herself weeks ago,” she says, beaming as if her own daughter had made it. I touch the unique silver embroidery lining the cuff of my sleeve. It reminds me of Rhianelle’s hair. The lady notices something in my face and gives me a knowing look.
I excuse myself politely, hating to spend a second longer without Nel’s company.
“You’re not coming to the dinner celebration?” The question leaps out of my mouth spontaneously as I step out of the room.
The polite lady stills at the door and stares at me. She then gives me a smile that does not seem to reach her eyes. “No, I no longer attend these gatherings. I’m still mourning the death of my husband and son.”
This is why I don’t bother doing small talk with people. I quickly offer her my condolence and my gratitude for the suit.
“Send my regards to the Queen,” she says before closing the door. I think I glimpsed a hint of light entering her eyes at the final mention of Rhianelle.
I stride down the passageway, wondering if I had actually hurt the sad healer’s feelings. If the husband and son had died recently, then I might have actually behaved like a true asshole. I don’t have long to ponder at the thought when I run into Shade, walking in the opposite direction.
He is sporting a black suit, elegant and appropriate for the occasion, instead of his usual fighting leathers. His unruly grey hair is brushed and smoothed to slick perfection. The only thing recognizable in his appearance in the demonic mask covering half of his face.
The guy pivots and starts stalking behind me silently. I am almost certain he lost his direction to the dinner hall. Any other day, I would have driven him away, but I’m late.
Bright green banners hang along the corridor and a deep viridian heavy rug carpets the floor. They stretch all the way to the other end. Wesley’s worn castle appears to be resuscitated to life by the wealth poured into the decorations and paintings courtesy of the Wiolant’s fund reserves.
