Page 121 of The Courting of Bristol Keats
“Hmm. Isn’t that . . . fortuitous.”
Bristol thought it suspicious too, and still wondered about the anonymous buyer. But right now it was helping her sisters, and it might be months before the da Vinci sketches were certified authentic and money came in from them. She had other matters that were far more pressing than unknown buyers who had money to burn. “I never would have guessed that you were fae. You act so . . . mortal.”
Georgie laughed. “I’ve been in Bowskeep for a long time.”
“Do you ever use magic there?”
She grimaced like she was sharing a dark confession. “Occasionally, like when I see a bit of paint chipping on a storefront, but I was never much of a student of magic. Most of my magic is the mortal kind—cooking up creative solutions that don’t break the bank.”
“What about my family? Did you know my mother was fae?”
“No. I don’t go snooping into anyone’s past, just like I don’t want them snooping into mine. But I suspected she might be by the way she acted. There were a few telltale signs, like those scarves of hers, the colors and patterns were very similar to those of the northern lowlands. I never try to see through anyone’s glamour, though. None of my business.”
“What made you leave Gildawey?”
She laughed. “A tall, handsome mortal. Sixteen years ago my mother sent me to the mortal world on holiday, thinking it would get my head out of the clouds and prepare me for my future role as queen—which I had no interest in. Instead, I met Charles. The rest is history. And with four sisters to step up as queen, it’s not like I left her high and dry.”
“You gave up everything for him?”
“What did I give up? The gossip? The games? The secrets? The long curly tresses and a crown that gave me a headache? I truly love Bowskeep, and I gained a man who adores me and puts up with my chickens. I’d say I’m the winner here.”
“When do you go back?”
“Tonight. I’ve done my daughterly duty, and I have a town to run. Plus, Faverolle chicks are due to hatch. I don’t want to miss that. How about you? When are you coming home?”
“I’m not sure.”
“Because you’re part of the king’selite squad? Just what does that mean? You’re a knight now?”
“No. Not exactly. I—Well . . .” Bristol stumbled, searching for words that weren’t too revealing. “I’m afraid I can’t say.”
Georgie nodded, a frown pulling at the corner of her mouth. “Secrets. They’ve drawn you in already.” She stopped and grabbed Bristol’s hand, holding it tightly between her own. “Elphame’s problems don’t have to be yours.”
“This time, I’m afraid they do.”
“Squabbles between kingdoms? One or another is always beating their chest.”
“This time it’s more. The mortal world may be at risk too, not to mention, I made a promise.”
“A promise,” she repeated, nodding, as if understanding its weight. Her brow wrinkled. “Anything I can do?”
Bristol shook her head. “Just keep an eye on my sisters until I get home. That would give me peace of mind.”
“Of course,” she answered. “And I’ll speak to my mother about the Gildan blades Danu requested—see if I can persuade her to step up production, though I’m not exactly on her hit parade at the moment. I’ll do my best.”
“The king would be very grateful.”
“Just remember, you have a home and family waiting for you. Sal, too—it’s the busy season. They gave you a timemark?”
“Yes.”
“Good. Don’t lose it.” She hesitated for a moment, then added, “And you and the king. What’s going on with that?”
Bristol’s mouth fell open.
“You thought I didn’t see? His eyes all but blinded the rest of the room when he spotted you at the top of the stairs.”
Bristol’s cheeks warmed. She had seen it, too. “I suppose we’re anitem, as my friend Sashka likes to put it,” she admitted. “But we’re not supposed to flaunt it tonight.”
