Brea took a deep breath, gazing around the park at the hundreds of fae celebrating the holiday. Bonfires roared in every corner, lively music played, and people danced under the stars. Gymnasts on stilts took great lumbering steps through the crowd, wowing the children from their great height. Fire-eaters and jugglers performed, each trying to outdo the other. Beautiful women wrapped in yards of silk hung suspended from the trees, performing amazing feats high above the crowd.
The evening was perfect. The weather was beautiful, as if Regan ordered a balmy night with cool breezes just for her guests. Servants buzzed around the park offering drinks and the most sumptuous finger foods. Brea and the queen sampled their fair share of the food and wine while they gossiped about the lords and ladies of her court.
“Your Majesty, you do us a great honor introducing your beautiful niece to Fargelsi on this lovely Beltaine evening.” Brea had heard a version of this speech throughout the night. This time the nobleman was young and quite handsome, if a bit stuffy.
“Lord Tadleigh Bainebridge, always lovely to see you.” Reagan turned her charms on the smitten young man. “Lord Bainebridge oversees one of the largest estates in Fargelsi,” the queen explained.
“At the queen’s pleasure, of course.” The man offered a curt bow to Brea. “It would be my honor, Lady Brea, to escort you this evening.” He took her hand, placing a kiss there like all the gentlemen before him.
“Thank you, sir,” Brea stuttered.
“I’m keeping her all to myself this evening, Tad.” The queen batted her eyes at him. “Another time.” Her tone was one of dismissal.
His expression fell, disappointment in his gaze. “Of course, your Majesty.” With that, he turned on his heel and walked toward a gaggle of ladies nearby.
Regan’s fan unfurled in front of her face. “He may be handsome, but he’s older than he looks, that one. I’m told he uses a tonic to keep his hair like that. And he’s such an incredible bore.”
“With a bit of a brown nose, too.” Brea giggled.
“Brown nose? What an odd phrase.” The queen took a sip of her wine.
Oh crap. How was Brea going to explain such a saying? She needed to start watching what she said. “Um, well he’s rather good at kissing your … royal … bum.” Brea’s cheeks flushed in the firelight. She turned begging eyes to Griff who leaned into the queen’s ear and explained.
“Brown nose indeed!” The queen roared, and Brea relaxed. “Don’t be so shy, Brea, dear. You can say anything to me. I don’t offend easily.”
“Perhaps Lady Brea would like to see the sights, your Majesty?” Griff suggested. “It is her first festival with us.”
“Oh very well, Beltaine is a night for the young, you two go have fun. Just come back to watch the fireworks with me.”
“Of course, I wouldn’t miss it.” Brea leaned down to kiss her aunt’s cheek.
She took Griff’s hand and followed him through the crowd, laughing and relishing the moment of freedom from the endless parade of noblemen.
“She’s introduced you to every eligible Fargelsian in her inner circle.”
“Eligible?” Brea giggled. “For what, like marriage?”
“Yes. It was quite irritating to watch.”
“Is she mad?” Brea’s mind swirled with too much wine. “I’m not getting married. I’m way too young.”
“I’ll talk to her.” Griff smiled, looking like he might have also taken too much wine. “I’ll explain how it is in the human world. She’s just excited to show you off. You’re all the family she has, you know. Having you here makes her happy.”
“And I’m happy to be here.” Brea whirled around, making her dress lift in the breeze. “It’s so beautiful here, Griff. I just still can’t believe this is my real home. It’s like a dream come true.”
For once, Brea didn’t let her cautious thoughts weigh her down. Maybe it was the wine talking, but she was starting to see a future here. A future she wanted. Maybe even a future with Griff.
“A flower for your Beltaine lady?” A wizened old woman offered Griff a perfect blush-stained rose from her basket. He paid the lady for the flower and turned to Brea, tapping the rosebud against her nose.
“This rose reminds me of your blushes.” He trailed the soft petals down her cheek. “The way your cheeks flush with the faintest pink when you’re embarrassed about something silly and utterly human. It’s one of my top ten things I love about Brea Robinson.” He pressed the rose into her hands.
“Top ten?” Her voice came out breathless and shaky. “What are the other nine?” She pressed her nose against the bloom to inhale its fresh fragrance. She couldn’t remember ever smelling a rose like this in the human realm. They’d always seemed overly fragrant and cloyingly sweet.
“I can’t spill all my secrets now. You’ll have to wait for the other nine.”
She closed the distance between them to kiss him, but he moved away. “We can’t here, Brea. It would cause a scandal for the queen’s niece to show affection so openly. But please know, I am dying to taste those lips again.” He tugged on her hand, guiding her to the tents where the courtiers feasted and drank copious amounts of wine.
They ate roasted venison, spiced vegetables and other things Brea couldn’t even identify.
“I need some fresh air.” Brea tried to take a deep breath, but the confines of her corset and the contents of her stomach wouldn’t allow it.
“I’ll meet you by the fountains in a moment, and then we will join the queen for the fireworks.”
Brea didn’t want to be the girl who needed a buffer, but panic slowly ebbed its way into her heart the moment he left her. She went to wait by the fountains, worried she might make a fool of herself if anyone stopped to speak with her. She watched the crowd come and go, but no one even noticed her. Something was weird about that.
Several young girls skipping around a maypole caught her attention. Their ribbons fluttered in the breeze as they wrapped them around the pole. They skipped and laughed like young girls should, but there was something forced about their merriment. They did and said all the right things, but that sincerity didn’t reach their eyes.
The same with a group of young men, dancing with girls about the same age. They were everything carefree teens should be … but somehow not quite. They lacked a certain joy.
As Brea took in all the queen’s guests, a cold sense of dread lodged in her stomach. They were all just going through the motions. Like they only wanted to do what the queen expected of them. But there was a lackluster dullness in their eyes. It gave her the creeps.
“Lady Brea.” The cold voice sounded behind her. She knew it was him before she turned. “I should escort you back to your queen. It isn’t safe for you to wander around the festival alone.” Lochlan gazed down at her, his perfect mouth drawn into a thin line.
Her wine-addled brain wondered what it might do to his features if he truly smiled. He hadn’t bothered with a costume, though it didn’t surprise her he’d refused to play along. Dressed in dark leathers and a long black cloak, he would blend easily with the night if it weren’t for his silvery blond hair. Her wore the top half swept back from his face and secured with a black leather band. The hair just above his pointed ears was tightly braided, but the rest fell down his back just past his shoulders. His midnight blue eyes smoldered under dark blond brows.