His lips curved into a half-smile. “You don’t have any horses.”
“I just figured it was the kind of thing people say here. I’ll amend it. I’d bet every last one of those frilly dresses in my too-large closet.”
“You hate those dresses, so I’m not sure that has any meaning.”
“How do you know I hate them?”
“Because, even though you look completely breathtaking in that preposterous mountain of tulle, I can read the discomfort on your face.”
“You barely know me, Griff. You can’t read my face.”
He reached up to tuck an errant strand of hair behind her ear. “Now… that is a bet I’d take.” His finger skimmed over her cheek. “Your cheeks redden when you think you’ve said something wrong.” His hand moved up over the bridge of her nose. “Your nose crinkles when something annoys you.”
“Usually you.”
He laughed. “And these eyes… shine the most brilliant shade of blue when you’re content.”
“They’re always blue. Eyes don’t change color.”
He pulled his hand away. “How can you see all there is to see in the fae world and still keep these human notions?”
“It’s a talent.”
“Stubbornness?”
“I was going to say idiocy.”
He shook his head. “You’re no idiot, Brea Robinson.”
She couldn’t take her eyes away from the boy saying all the right things, things she wanted to believe. There were secrets in his eyes—like the secret about Lochlan—but she shut those out, needing desperately for someone to trust in.
Leaning into him, she wrapped her arm around his waist. For the first time since Myles’ death, she felt she wasn’t alone after all.
Brea and Griff spent the day playing cards in her room. He’d found a deck she didn’t recognize with symbols she’d never seen before. He taught her to play a game called Flash Magic.
It was designed to be used along with a fae’s abilities, and Griff encouraged her to try small things like staring at the deck and using her magic to draw a card. When she finally accomplished it without setting anything on fire—don’t look at her curtains—she jumped across the game and tackled Griff to the ground.
He hugged her back, only releasing her when someone cleared their throat. Brea pulled back with a grin to find a tall girl staring down at her with beautiful amber eyes. Thick chocolate brown hair was pulled back away from her youthful olive skin.
“I can come back,” she squeaked in a voice that revealed her age more than her appearance did.
Brea picked herself up from the ground, wiping her hands down the pair of pants she’d made Griff fetch from his room. Her own closet was stocked with nothing but dresses. She’d have done just about anything for a pair of yoga pants with pockets.
“No, it’s cool.” Brea smiled, still riding a high from using her magic.
“Cool?” the girl said the word slowly. “Do you need a fire started in your hearth? It’s quite warm outside, but if this room isn’t to your liking, I can do that.”
Brea suppressed a grin. “No, cool means… never mind. It’s fine, you can stay if you tell me who you are.”
“Oh.” The girl’s cheeks paled. “I’m Neeve. The queen sent me to wait on you.”
“Well, I don’t really need waited on. But do you want to play with us?”
Neeve stared down at Griff with wide eyes.
“Brea.” He stood. “Neeve doesn’t want to play. She’s here to do a job.”
“Doesn’t mean the job can’t be fun.”
“Actually, it does.” He shook his head with a sigh. “I must be on my way. I’ve been here most of the day, and there’s a formal dinner tonight since the Eldurian negotiators are here.”
“Does the queen want me to come?”
“No!” His word came so quickly, her shoulders dropped. Of course, her aunt wouldn’t want her in public after what happened that morning.
“Oh, okay.”
“I just mean… We don’t trust Lochlan and his party. The Eldur queen wants you taken to her court, so it’s best if we keep you out of sight until they’re gone.”
Lochlan had already seen her, but she didn’t argue because she had no real desire to stuff herself into an awful dress and sit behind a big table taking rabbit bites of food. At least, that was what the movies said one did at a palace meal.
Griff ran a hand down her arm before squeezing her hand. “Neeve will take care of you. I’ll see you soon.”
When he left, she stared at Neeve for a long moment, unsure of what to say. She’d never been good at meeting new people. “You’re tall.”
Neeve bowed her head. “Yes, it is a flaw.”
“No, I mean, it’s cool, I mean sweet. You know what? I’ll just say I like it. In the human realm, you’d be considered beautiful with your long legs and all.” She smacked a palm against her forehead. “I’m totally not hitting on you. I like boys.”
Neeve cocked her head. “Hitting me? That is your choice if it should happen.”
“Hitting on you.” She scoured her mind for a term that might make her understand. “Courting you. Is that right? I only want to court boys.”
Her brow scrunched. “Well, that seems rather limiting.” She walked past Brea to examine the burnt curtains.
“You like the ladies? That’s cool. Sweet. Fine. Ugh!”
To her surprise, Neeve laughed. “Fae do not choose one type of person to love. We don’t fall in love with a fae’s… genitalia.”
“Wait a second.” Brea held up a hand. “Are you trying to tell me I’ve fallen through some pansexual wormhole?” A grin overtook her face. “That’s freaking awesome. Has Griff ever…”
“Lady Brea.” Chastisement rang in her tone. “I am a servant. We do not gossip.”
“Of course you do. I’ve seen Downton Abbey.”
“I won’t pretend to know what that means.”
“Wait, aren’t you like not allowed to yell at me?”
Neeve’s face paled. “I wasn’t yelling. I was merely…”
“Don’t stop. Please. Servants here are all Stepfordy. I like you, Neeve. We’re going to be friends.”
“A servant cannot be friends with a Lady of Her Majesty’s Court.”
“Sure they can.” Brea climbed onto her bed and sat cross-legged.
“The queen would not approve.”
She laughed. “The queen will not approve of about ninety-percent of me. We just won’t tell her.” She lowered her voice. “Please. I’d like to make friends here.” She’d never had that urge back in Ohio, but Myles had been all she’d needed. The more people she distracted herself with here, the less time she’d have to miss him, to let herself wallow in guilt.
If it worked like that.
“You do not seem like the kind of lady who’d move into the palace.” Neeve picked up the discarded game on the floor.
“That’s because I was kidnapped.”