I peer through clouds of sweet-smelling steam and bustling staff until I spy a girl holding an identical tray to mine. She’s been serving tables at the back of the Great Hall, far away from the queen and her bizarre-looking guests. “Can’t I work Selene’s table instead? She won’t mind swapping.”
“No, you cannot,” Elowen scolds, pushing me through an arch that leads to a long hallway lined with torches. The passage opens onto the Great Hall where, from the shining dais, the sparkling High Fae preside over their court and entertain their intense-eyed guests—King El Fannon and Prince Temnen of the Court of Merits.
I draw a long breath, reminding myself I’ve managed to survive this extraordinary day so far. Waiting tables is easy.
This afternoon, I coped with being scrubbed, rubbed with scented oils, and then groomed and dressed like a child’s favorite doll. And over the hours of the feast, I’ve since adjusted to the sight of creatures from dreams, all cavorting like feral children who’ve consumed too much sugar. Now, they no longer make my palms sweat.
I’ve even managed to relax under the scrutiny of the Merits, their calculating gazes following my every move. But I still haven’t got used to Ever, lounging beside his mother like an overindulged brat—a vision of cruel beauty dressed in black and silver and crowned with a self-righteous sneer.
Mostly, I’ve tried to ignore him and the flock of fae girls wrapped around his legs, vying for attention as they pass him food and wine, slobbering over his person. It’s obvious what they’ll be helping him with after the banquet. And I hope they have fun. Truly.
As I serve honey-soaked cakes topped with clotted cream and silver-spun candy, it becomes apparent this table is the most unpleasant one in the room. Situated closest to the throne, these fae are nasty, their jokes more cutting and disgusting. It’s difficult to weave my tray through their bony limbs and scaly wings as they poke and flutter around me.
“Give me three more of those,” demands a fae with decaying horns protruding from his forehead. His clawed hand reaches inside my dress, pinching soft flesh, and as I lift my palm to slap his black-toothed mouth, the queen’s voice rises above the cacophony of chatter and music.
“Ah,” she says. “At last, we have a close view of Everend’s human pet. Girl, put your tray down and come show yourself to our guests.” Her white hand rises and the musicians on the stage at the other end of the hall cease playing.
All at once, the courtiers still, the silence shimmering like smoke toward the stars visible through the vaulted glass ceiling.
Slowly, I tip the tray into the lecherous faery’s lap. “Here, take as many as you want.” Unruffled, he laughs, pinching my waist as I pass.
I walk around the long table and then to the front of the dais. Studiously avoiding the mass of silver and gold hair beside the queen, I rest my gaze on Raff.
“Hello, Lara,” he says. “You look very appetizing dressed in finery and decorated with jewels.”
“And clean at last,” says Ever in a mocking tone. Woven through his wild hair, a gold circlet glints from his forehead, a reminder of what he is—a royal pain in the butt.
Self-consciously, I pat the complicated twist of braids and petals and shiny black seeds on my head.
The queen is a glittering snowflake, bright jewels offsetting the paleness of her frigid smile. Raff, seated to her left, is striking in rich reds, smiling warmly, provocatively. Seated to Ever’s right is the queen’s consort, Lord Stavros, and beside him King El Fannon and Prince Temnen, their Merit necklaces flashing endless digits and images in ornate frames.
I curtsy and speak to Raff since he is the only one who has addressed me civilly. “Hello, Prince Rafael. It’s nice to see you again.”
Ever sinks low against the lavish cushions of his chair, knees splaying wide in an arrogant position. With a flick of his hand, the girls around him disperse, melting into the crowd.
The Merit king says to his green-haired son, “Just as you reported, she is polite and charming.”
The queen’s gaze glides down my body, then up again. “Tell us about your home, girl. We wish to hear of its strangeness.”
“Um…” I begin as Ever yawns, and then watches me through heavy-lidded eyes, a cat bored by the tediousness of its prey.
What should I tell them? The truth is a good place to start, I suppose. “In my city, striking beauty and ugliness coexist side by side. Glass skyscrapers housing people who live like royalty butt up against hovels and the homeless. The rich person is as unhappy as the poor one, but everyone has art and music and technology to divert them from their pain and—”
Ever coughs and it turns into a spluttering laugh. He wipes wine from his splendid, petulant mouth. “Yes, yes. How fascinating. What an enthralling tale you weave.”
The queen’s head swivels to him, slowly, like an owl on a branch considering its competition for the mice in the grass. I would not want her to look at me that way.
Ever ignores her and leans toward Prince Temnen. “How is your sister, Lidwinia?” he asks, his expression mild.
“Her statistics are on the rise.” Temnen’s antennae bend and quiver, his orange eyes glinting with pride. “She is almost more popular than Mother.”
A crooked smirk plays across the Prince of Air’s lips. “Wonderful,” he drawls. “Give her my best regards.”
What a suck-up. Or perhaps a sarcastic ass. I’m not sure which.
“You two were always close,” says Temnen as Ever’s gaze of hard steel settles on me.
A flash of silver skims down my body, then back to my face. “Yes,” he agrees with Temnen, eyes locked on mine.
The Queen of Five watches Ever. The Merit King watches me.
I dip a curtsy and take a step backward, hoping the queen will take the hint and allow me to return to my duties.
Long chestnut curls bounce as the king grips his son’s shoulder, red sparks swirling through his black irises. “You are right, we should acquire this human for our pet. She is a ceann a thugann athrú—a change bringer, like the one who came from the human realm many years ago to gift us with the seeds of The Merits. Queen Varenus, our court has many uses for one such as her.”
In a fluid movement, he steps from the dais and flounces right up to me. “What technologies have you brought from your world?”
I open my mouth and take a breath to answer.
“Be seated,” Ever commands. “You won’t find this one of use. The gifts she brings are all you see. A plain face, a body like a lumpy sack of oats, and perhaps even full of curses. Indeed, she possesses no charm or devices from her world to entrance you with. I would not recommend her.”
El Fannon’s eyes sharpen like a hawk’s. “She may be cursed, you say? How so?”
Ever pushes lazily out of his chair, steps onto the marble floor, and then circles me, his cloak brushing my calf. “Regard closely her skin,” he tells the king as his tapered fingers gesture over the length of my lumpy form. “Note the sallow color, the spotty blemishes.”
“Hmm…” El Fannon squints. “Yes, she is speckled like a forest hen.”
“Haven’t your High Mages warned of visitors bearing such flaws?”
“We have heard of no such tidings in our land. And you are certain she brings no gifts from her world?”