Page 36

“Is there a room where I could freshen up?” I asked, holding my stomach.

“Of course.” Feron nodded. He walked me to a wall that looked like the ribbed edges of a tree. No door. No opening to walk through. I turned back toward him just as his arm stretched out, placing a palm against the grain.

My skin prickled, something in the air shifted. The next moment, the wall split open. A dark hallway waiting on the other side.

Feron reached out and grabbed one of the faelights. “This will lead you there,” he said, blowing it away like a dandelion seed. It hovered through the hole and stopped, as if waiting for me to follow. I stepped across the bent wood and let the light lead me to a room in the heart of the tree palace.

The faelight led me to a grand room with a privy and bath. Water cascaded down one wall, pooling at a groove in the floor before draining through a thin line in the wood. Flower petals swirled in the running water, almost sparkling in the light from the orb. Now that I was alone, I could hear the low hum of the walls. Too faint for any Mortal to hear, but it was there. Like the steady pump of a heart through every part of the palace.

Sil’abar wasn’t just a palace. It was alive.

I dampened a cloth in the waterfall and cooled the skin along my chest. I was a fool to let myself be so rattled in front of an enemy. But was that even what Feron was? He had not attacked me even when he knew I was in his city. He had not called his guards on me for the blades hidden in my dress.

He was the king’s enemy, but did that make him mine?

I stepped back into the hall, trailing after the soft faelight. My skirt caught on a bent root sticking out of the ground. I pulled at it once, launching myself forward as it gave way. I bounced off something hard and fell to the ground. The heavy skirt made it too hard to balance.

“I thought the king’s Blade would have better reflexes than that.” A figure towered in front of me. Three faelights swirled above his head, drenching the hall in warm sunlight. I looked up and saw a pair of dark violet eyes watching me. He was tall, even for a Fae, his face partly hidden in the sheet of black hair that fell past his chest.

“I was distracted,” I said, a moment too late. The Fae didn’t say anything but crossed his arms, the soft light emphasizing the warmth of his golden-brown skin. I helped myself up, smoothing my skirts with my hands. He didn’t move, even though he was close enough for me to smell the hints of birchwood and dew wafting off his skin.

“What are you planning to spy on in an empty hallway?” he asked, raising a thick brow. His lip snarled as he leaned over to peer behind me.

“I wasn’t spying,” I said, crossing my own arms. “Lord Feron knows where I am. I doubt there’s anywhere in the city he can’t track me.”

His eyes snapped back to me. “True, but I doubt you care.”

Who was this prick?

I shook my head and tried to step around him. He held his stance for a moment, but I didn’t waver. I just stared back at him, studying the sharp angles of his face, until he leaned into the wall and let me pass.

“Just so you know,” he called after me, “not all of us are as welcoming as Feron. Don’t get caught in places you shouldn’t be again.”

ISTEPPED BACK INTOthe ballroom as the tall doors opened and we were corralled into a dining room. A long wooden table stood in the middle of the space; its legs sprouted from the floor like roots. The top was decorated with dozens of bouquets of dew roses surrounded by tiny orbs of light.

“Feron has requested that you sit with him,” a Halfling reported as soon as I stepped into the dining hall. I followed her to the end of the table where an empty seat sat on Feron’s left.

“I hope you do not mind having your meal with me,” Feron said. He pulled the chair back with one hand and gestured for me to sit.

“The honor is mine, my lord,” I said respectfully. I glanced down the table looking for the angry Fae I had crossed in the hall, but he wasn’t seated. My gaze was pulled away as the most glorious music started playing behind Feron’s chair. A group of Elves and Halflings were holding instruments I’d never seen. Some strummed golden strings that glowed as they played. Others blew into tiny flutes that sung angelic melodies. I couldn’t keep my eyes away.

“You enjoy our music, Keera?” Feron asked, taking a bite of grilled fish.

“It has a kind of beauty that cannot be replicated,” I said honestly.

I glanced across the table where the chair to the lord’s right sat empty. “Are you expecting someone else?”

“Ah, Riven. He is attending to something. He will join us later,” Feron said. He held a glass of wine in the air and the rest of the table followed. My eyes darted to my glass, expecting to see it topped with red liquid, but it held water instead.

Feron started speaking with a Fae down the table and the rest of dinner passed with little contribution from me. I preferred it that way, listening to the conversation. What people were planning to do for the harvest season, whose children had started tutoring or apprenticing. I doubted anyone would say anything of importance with me in the room, but every piece of information was vital when I knew so little of the goings-on in Aralinth.

I finished the fish and set my spoon on the plate for the servants to take. I felt Feron’s gaze on me and turned toward him, unblinking as his eyes trailed over my face. “You have beautiful eyes,” he remarked softly. “I have not seen anyone with eyes like yours in a long time.”

“I’ve never met anyone with eyes like mine,” I replied honestly. My brows furrowed at how easily the words slipped out.

“I would not expect you have,” Feron said. I waited for him to elaborate but he turned toward a Halfling couple on the other side of the table. We were eating dessert before he spoke to me again.

“Tell me of your parents,” Feron said. “Where were they from?”