Her voice was calm, but she let me see inside her mind. A human Beatrice. A captive Beatrice. A group of draugr. She fought them—and lost.
“I killed them slowly,” she said, shrugging as if it was no significant feat. “When I regained my senses, I killed every one of them.” She shrugged again. “And now I am queen.”
I thought she was insanely fucking strong to turn her rage into power. Beatrice was old; the sort of old that meant my bones ached at the chill she radiated. When she died, dust and air would be all that remained of her, so her assault was longer ago than I could fathom. Her rage was still vibrant, and her pride at avenging herself was burning bright.
I met her eyes and said, “Fine. I like you some.”
And she laughed, peals of joyous laughter as we stared at the alligators.
Then she leaned in and whispered, “The pigs were men once, granddaughter. I tolerate no man injuring me or what’s mine.” She glanced behind us to where Eli stood calmly watching the fire and us. Then Beatrice said, “He seems to care deeply for you. Fae blood is more nourishing, but if he hurts you . . . I will not forgive that. Had you not killed Darius, I would have. Once I discovered what he’d done, I was not pleased. I did not live here then. If I had . . .”
Just to be clear, I said, “You came here because of my mother.”
“And you.”
In a tone as close to Eli’s calm as I could manage, I said, “Eli is mine, Beatrice. To hurt him is to enrage me.” I touched her wrist. “Blood matters. I am grateful that you care for Mama Lauren, but . . . do not ever threaten my family or friends, or I will find a way to sever your head.”
Beatrice kissed my forehead. “I am grateful to know you, granddaughter.” Then she flowed toward her castle. Her voice drifted back, filling the courtyard in an echoing sound. “There will be a dinner to celebrate my granddaughter’s betrothal to the crown price of Elphame. Hear and be welcome.”
I shuddered at the realization that her magic was undoubtedly carrying that invitation to draugr in her queendom.
Eli looked at me and said, “This job of hers will complicate things, Geneviève.”
And my few weeks of relative calm ended. I felt it as surely as a warning knell. I was engaged to the heir of Elphame’s throne, with whom I’d made a faery bargain, and now declared family to the queen of the draugr, for whom I was ferreting out a threat. The holidays were no longer simply about irritation over dresses and random witch-haters who shot at me.
“Probably,” I admitted. “But complication is what we do. Nothing is ever simple.”
I took his arm and walked through the passageway of Beatrice’s castle. No one stopped us. No one did anything other than open doors and bow deeply. Now that Beatrice had made her little proclamation, all eyes were going to be watching us.
Chapter Five
In the span of one night, I’d agreed to a Yule Ball in Elphame and an “early Yule” party with the draugr queen.
Eli was silent as we drove back to the city, and I decided to simply wait to speak.
Finally, Eli parked alongside at a building in the Garden District that looked like it could have been one of the first in the city. A fence, stone not iron, surrounded his house. The house was almost so plain as to be unnoticed—which required a lot of magic. There was neither balcony nor gallery, neither porch nor Ionic columns, just a nondescript house in a very expensive area.
His home.
When we were standing at the door, Eli bowed to me. “You are eternally welcome in my home, Genèvieve Crowe. I offer you my hearth and lintel. May you find shelter.”
“That’s some formal sounding stuff,” I hedged. “I was here before and—”
“I cannot answer the questions you have right now.” He held out his hand. “You will have the answer on Twelfth Night.”
“You’re making me nervous.” I didn’t take his hand, and he didn’t lower it. Whispers rose up from some knowledge older than the stone that protected this house or the magic that flowed in my veins. “What does it mean if I take your hand right now?”
“That you accept my protection, my shelter. That you willingly enter this house.” Eli stood, waiting.
Some part of me thought he’d been waiting longer than I knew, longer than I wanted to know.
He stayed there, hand outstretched, and said, “Come into my home, and let me shelter you, love.”
“Is this how you normally treat dates?” I tried for lighter tone, for avoiding this tension that was in the air like magic between us.
“I’ve never dated.” Eli shrugged slightly: elegant and utterly telling all at once. It was often to avoid discussions—usually for my benefit. Tonight, that was not the case. He felt embarrassed or awkward.
My staring at him all agog probably didn’t help matters.
“You will be the first,” he added.
“What?”
“I’ve fucked. I’ve had sex. I’ve spent time clothed and naked with friends and acquaintances, but dating is only done with intent among the fae.”
My mouth was drier than the desert. “Oh. . . fuck. What if we didn’t--”
“You agreed to date me, Genèvieve. Are you reneging on a bargain with one of the fae?”
No matter how much I’d thought I understood, once more, I was fucked by my own hubris. Every human in history who had made a bargain with a fae believed they were clever enough to outsmart the fae. That never happened. Ever. And yet, I’d tried it twice.
“So dating, to you, is a precursor to . . .”
“Matrimony.”
I sputtered, “It’s not what it is to me, Eli.”
He smiled. “You are bound in promise to the fae, which means fae law applies to you. You’ve even agreed to a date for the end of our courtship.”
I stepped away from him. “This is not how to seduce me, Eli.”
“You have a month to find a way to end our courtship,” he reminded me. “And I have a month to make you accept the inevitable. You said ‘I agree to your terms, Eli. We will date.’ So, I do believe, my Divinity, that you now must either date me or break our bargain.”
“What happens if I break the bargain?”
“The king of Elphame would determine your fate, as he is chief in my familial line.” Eli shrugged again. “So, I ask again, will you date me or do you break our bargain?”
“Fine.” I took his hand.
He lifted me into his arms bridal style. The smile he gave me would probably incinerate knickers in at least a three-mile radius.
My voice was squeakier than it had ever been as I asked, “Eli?”
“You are eternally welcome in my home, Genèvieve Crowe. I offer you my hearth and lintel. May you find shelter.” He stood under the keystone of the doorway. “In this world and my home, you are mine to safeguard.”
I felt magic swirl around us, as if we were in center of a firestorm. Each spark of magic brushed against us with butterfly wings. Whatever vow he’d made was one my body accepted--loudly. Desire surged like lava in my veins, and a moan of need escaped my lips.
I wasn’t sure I could stand if I tried.