“Well, it’s good to see someone enjoying themselves,” I murmured, watching him go.
“Why little one? Are you finding it onerous to be royalty?” Lachlan raised one dark eyebrow at me.
“It’s…unexpected,” I said, frowning. “And the queen seems to have a lot of ideas for me,” I added, thinking of her Majesty’s constant stream of chatter while I was being fitted for my banquet dress.
“Such as?” Bran asked, frowning.
“Well…” I hesitated, not sure how to put it. “She’s already decided that I ought to stay here in the Summer Court for the rest of my education, instead of returning to the human world.”
“I take it you object to that?” Lachlan asked.
“Of course, I object!” I exclaimed. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, the Summer Court is beautiful and it’s amazing to find out I’m a fairy princess for real but my coven is back at Nocturne Academy! I don’t want to leave Kaitlyn and Megan and Avery! And I don’t want to leave my mom, either—my human mom, I mean.” I sighed.
“That does sound like a problem.” Bran frowned. “But I’d be careful how you broach the subject. Her Majesty is known to have a hot temper—it’s one reason she blew up at my father.”
“Oh, speaking of your father, the queen has decided to call him and your mom and sister back from exile,” I told him. “Because she’s decided that…” I bit my lip. “That you’re the one I should choose as my, uh, consort.”
Bran and Lachlan gave each other an unsurprised look.
“I thought it would come to this,” the dark Fae said heavily. “It’s all right, Emma—I always knew you would choose Bran.”
“I haven’t chosen either of you yet!” I said hotly. “I don’t feel ready to choose—it’s the queen—she’s choosing for me and I don’t like it!”
“Well, that’s another touchy subject,” Bran murmured. “Remember, she banished her own son—your father—for deciding to love against her wishes.” He frowned. “By the way, did you find out the identity of your real mother?”
I shrugged. “The queen said it was probably a wood nymph from the Winter Court.”
“Hmm…so not the lost princess, then,” Lachlan murmured, frowning. “I guess the rumors that Prince Tarren fell in love with her must have been wrong.”
“All I know is that she looked almost exactly like me,” I said, remembering the image of my real mother the blood droplets had formed in the water. “But Queen Elia doesn’t seem to think who she was is important.”
“Of course not,” Lachlan said, a touch of bitterness in his voice. “She was from the Dark Lands—the Winter Court. None of our kind is important here.”
“Lachlan, you know I don’t feel that way!” I protested. “You’re both important to me.” I put a hand on each of them, squeezing Bran’s broad shoulder and Lachlan’s arm. “I don’t want to choose! I feel like I need you both.”
“Well, you can have us both, little one,” Lachlan said, his face twisting into a frown. “For a few more hours anyway—until the royal proclamation is made. Then I will have to leave your side and Bran will remain.”
He turned away. As I watched him go, I felt as though my heart was breaking in two…but there didn’t seem to be anything I could do about it.
83
I’ll give Queen Elia one thing—she certainly knows how to throw a party. The banquet that night was magnificent—like nothing I had ever seen before. (Well, except on TV shows about royalty.)
There were too many courses to count—game courses and fish courses and soup courses and salad courses—all with tangy fruit sorbets served in between to “cleanse the palate.”
There was a bewildering array of silverware too—only it was all made of gold. Four forks, seven spoons, and three knives. Since I was seated at the head table, between the queen, on my right and Bran, on my left, I just watched both of them carefully to know which utensil to use on each course.
Lachlan was sitting on Bran’s left, because I had refused to be seated at the head table until he was given a seat there as well. The servants had rolled their eyes uneasily but at a curt nod from my grandmother, they had complied and made a place for him. I could see people in the vast banquet hall staring at both of us and whispering behind their hands—speculating, no doubt, as to why the Queen of the Summer Court had not one but two dark-haired Fae at her table.
Despite the enormous variety of delicious and exotic food, I could barely eat anything. I was feeling desperately unhappy at the announcement that was soon to come. The queen—my grandmother—was basically picking my consort for me and I was just expected to go along with it. But I couldn’t stop feeling like I needed both my guys.
I wasn’t ready to choose—I might never be ready to choose—but the choice was being taken from me.
Dessert was a towering cake, seventeen layers high in alternating colors of gold and royal purple, with a full-sized replica of my own head and shoulders in marzipan at the top of it. Seriously, it was huge—it took seven bakers to bring it in and they put it on a special round cake table that would have seated ten, if there were chairs around it.
Looking at the enormous thing—which towered over all our heads—I wondered how in the world the palace bakers had had time to make it, considering I had just arrived in the Summer Court earlier that day. Maybe more magic? That was the only way I could think that such an enormous task could be completed so quickly.
The bakers began cutting everyone a slice of the giant cake—which was plenty big enough to feed everyone in the banquet hall with lots left over, I estimated. And as they did, the queen got up to speak. A hush fell over the room and everyone looked at her expectantly.
“My fellow Fae and denizens of the Summer Court,” she began importantly. “As you know, for years, ever since my dear son Tarren left, I have been without an heir to succeed me to the throne. This has caused me untold sleepless nights and heartache. But now, Tarren’s daughter has been discovered. I have an heir at last!”
She pointed to me and gestured for me to rise, which I did, feeling extremely awkward. I’ve never liked being the center of attention and having an entire court full of people clap for me—people I was apparently supposed to rule over one day—was really difficult to handle.
Still, I tried to do a good job. I nodded and waved gracefully—I was trying to be graceful, anyway—like a proper princess should. At last, the queen nodded for me to sit.
“My granddaughter, Emma, has the power of my bloodline and the strength to rule the Summer Court when she comes of age,” she said. “I know she will rule wisely and well—”
“In that case, she should also have the power to rule the Winter Court,” a cold, feminine voice rang through the hall.
Everyone gasped and looked around for the source of the voice. They didn’t have to look far. Right in front of the cake table, a portal was appearing. It wasn’t lit by silvery light like the one Chrisanther had made for us to get to the Summer Court, however.