Dalsharan burst out laughing. “I promise that you won't get pooped on. The birds who live among us are attuned to us. That's why they flock here.”
“Aren't hawks predators? Don't they eat smaller birds?”
“We are not normal hawks, Ravyn,” he said wryly.
“Right. Of course.” I cleared my throat and looked back at the city.
A woman formed on the sidewalk. Her body was mostly transparent, but as I watched, she seemed to absorb color from the world around her and became solid. I lurched toward the window, gaping at her.
“Fuck me flying,” I whispered. “I think I just saw a Sylph.”
Dalsharan glanced out the window. “Probably. They're one of the few Unsidhe who live in Kestria. Most wingless faeries prefer the ground.”
“Sylphs have wings?”
“Flightless faeries prefer the ground,” he amended. “Sylphs are air spirits, they float.”
“I've heard of them but have never seen one,” I murmured as I scanned the streets for another. “Fuck, there's a Pixie!” I gaped at the tiny, winged faerie as she landed on a branch beside a brightly colored bird. “I've never seen one of those either.”
“There are Sylphs in the Unsidhe Armies, but the Pixies don't leave Varalorre.” He leaned back against the leather cushion and propped his boot on the seat beside me, giving me a possessive look. “As you will not be leaving without me.”
“Since I can't fly, that's a given,” I grumbled.
“You will fly.”
“How can you be sure?” I gave him a somber look.
“You have me inside you. You will fly.” Dalsharan grinned sensually.
“Well, as much as it felt like flying when I had you inside me earlier, I don't think your cock can give me wings. It's not that magical.”
Dalsharan threw back his head and chortled. When he looked at me again, his eyes were sparkling amethyst.
“What does it mean when your eyes go amethyst?” I whispered.
Dalsharan blinked. “Are they now?”
“Yes.”
“Huh,” he said and grinned. “Interesting.”
“What's interesting?” I leaned forward. “I've figured out that green means you're furious. Is amethyst arousal? Is it a sign that I can jump your bones?”
Dal's grin turned wicked. “You don't need a sign, you naughty bird.”
“Is it?” I insisted.
“You will just have to figure that out for yourself. If you are a good consort, you will.”
“All right, be like that.” I pushed his foot off my seat.
Dal laughed again, then he straightened as he glanced out the window. “We're home, Ravyn.”
Home. The way he said it made my chest constrict. I looked out the window and felt my jaw fall open. We were passing through a gate manned by a couple of guards who bowed to us as we rolled by. Even the gates were impressive—soaring silver things with flying hawks shaped by the twisting metal. Beyond it lay a glorious garden of fruit trees and flowers with flocks of birds swirling from tree to tree. And beyond the garden stood the Hawk Lord's home. My home. At least for now.
It was made of paler stone than the other palaces, a snowy white that matched Dalsharan's hair. The palace rose into the sky before us in tiered arches, each arch bearing a carved design within its tip. It appeared to be more of a collection of towers than a normal palace. Various heights of towers rose behind a sweeping entrance, their spires connected with walkways and every sharply pointed arch accented with a balcony. The grand entry held the lowest arch that nonetheless stretched the highest, with walls sweeping down from it to either side and then up at the ends, into columns topped with statues of hawks. The Hawk Lord's black and gold banner hung from the central arch of that entry, standing out sharply against the white stone.
“This is where you live?” I asked in wonder.
“This is where we live,” he said softly, watching me again.
The carriage pulled around a circular drive and stopped before a set of steps that led to the peaked front door. Our driver jumped down and opened the carriage door for us. Dalsharan went first, then stepped aside for me. I jumped out, landing hard on my boots, and peered up at the palace that soared over my head.
“Ravyn, this is Creshal, my steward.” Dalsharan waved at our driver. “Creshal, this is my consort, Ravyn the Valorian.”
“It's an honor to meet you, Sir.” Creshal bowed deeply.
“Uh, thank you. Nice to meet you too.”
Dal's grin pressed together as if he were holding back laughter.
“Your rooms have been cleaned and a selection of clothing was delivered this morning for the Valorian, my lord. I had them taken to the Consort's rooms.”
“Very good, Creshal.” Dalsharan strode up the stairs where the front door seemed to magically open for him.
Actually, there was a guy in a fancy uniform who'd somehow known that Dal was walking up and had opened the door for him at precisely the right moment. It must be a pain in the ass to be a faerie servant.
Dal paused in the doorway and glanced back at me. “Are you coming?”
“Nearly,” I muttered before running up the stairs after him.
Creshal chuckled under his breath and jumped back on the driver's platform. The carriage rolled away. It probably had its own palace.
I nodded at the guy holding the door and followed Dal into his home. A shining interior of silver, pale gold, and dark gray greeted me. Dal strode forward, barely glancing at the chandeliers above or the designs of hawks in the marble floor below. He went straight to a doorway at the end of the entry hall, got into a tiny room, and turned around to face me.
“What are you doing in there?” I frowned at the small space.
A maid passing by coughed to cover a laugh.
“It's an elevator. It will take us to the upper floors,” Dal said.
“A what?”
“Just get in, Ravyn,” he growled.
I stepped into the room and a door slid out of the wall, closing us in and startling me. I jumped and spun around while Dal chuckled. There was a numbered panel to the right of the door and he hit the largest number—18. The button lit up and the whole room trembled.
“What the fuck?” I held my arms out for balance, but the room only shook slightly. It felt as if we were moving upward. “You have magic that lifts boxes full of people?”