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Faery Godlover

Page 2

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“Are you lost?” he asked, leaning in the doorframe. “My chambers are two floors up, third door on the right. I’m sure you’ll find me there.”

“Your Highness,” said the one on the left, his golden armor gleaming in the sunlight that spilled in from the windows in the hallway behind him. “Her Majesty has requested your presence in the court, post haste.”

“Now?”

“Her Majesty insists the timing is of most importance, Your Highness.”

The guards stepped back, expectant looks in their eyes as they waited for him to follow, but Duada held up his hands as he stepped out, making his way in the opposite direction down the hallway. “Come now, do you really think she wants to see me like this?” he said, gesturing to his person. He very obviously looked like a man post-coitus, half-dressed with hair mussed to all ends.

“Her majesty instructed—”

“Believe me, I’m just as eager to see my dear aunt as she is to see me, but I assume you’ve seen how she dresses in court? I can’t present myself like this. And could you imagine what the repercussions would be if you dragged me like this into her court?” He wiggled his eyebrows with a grim expression, suggesting the consequences could, indeed, be dire.

The guards exchanged glances before Duada continued with a sigh. “By all means, escort me to my chambers and wait for me to change, then I’ll come with you.”

A short while later, convinced yet reluctant, the guards stopped at the entrance to Duada’s personal chambers. The faerie prince waved to the two guards as he stepped into his quarters, breathing in the fragrant air as he stripped himself of the clothes he’d been sauntering around in.

Summerland, and the Summerland Court, was truly paradise. His room was a prime example of the decadent wealth the fae reveled in on a regular basis, columns of ivory lining the golden-hued stone that made up the ancient walls, ivy running along the tops where they met the ceiling like natural molding. His rich, purple bed sheets and massive bed put to shame the comparatively humble quarters the ambassador was situated in, each of them bearing fine gold thread woven into the seams.

He strode into his colossal walk-in closet and took his time in selecting an outfit. He thumbed through the various articles of clothing, from deep and vibrant red silken shirts to flowing black robes, all of them absurdly soft to the touch and made to be comfortable enough as to be unnoticeable to the wearer. He had always believed that he ought to shape his body to match the majesty of the luxuries around him.

His aunt would just tell him he’s being an ass, but he didn’t let that stop him.

Duada’s dawdling was wholly intentional.

He spent a large amount of time picking out just the right shirt, the trousers, the belt, even a small shoulder cape he debated over for a few minutes before tossing it on, trying to look like he put effort, but not too much effort, into the way he looked. His new shirt still left almost as much of his chest visible as the haphazard robe had, and he rather liked it that way. It was nearly an hour later that he re-opened the doors to find the two guards, now decidedly irate, standing there.

“Oh, were you waiting on me?” he feigned surprise. “Where are my manners? I should have let you in. Come, let’s not keep the Queen waiting.”

Their footsteps echoed in the long halls as they made their way to the court, Duada swaggering in front of the guards as if they were his personal bodyguards. The guards didn’t approve, Duada knew it, but he didn’t pay them much mind. Although he was loath to admit it, the Queen was probably the only person in the palace who could pull rank on him, and the guards knew that though he was insolent, he wasn’t so insolent as to cross the Queen.

Otherwise, he might not enjoy his cushy position as long as he’d like.

The three rounded the corner into the throne room, where the majesty that was the Queen of the Summerland Court sat upon a high, crystalline throne in a sparkling green dress that would put any human princess to shame. Diamonds lined its hem, and its frills stuck out at least a foot from her shoulders, wafting in the breeze that flowed in through the windows high above the floors. Her hair spilled over her shoulder, and her amethyst eyes, that matched Duada’s, locked with his the moment he entered the throne room, their glint contrasting with the golden tiara inlaid with topaz resting on her head.

“My dear nephew,” she said as Duada moved past the assembled courtiers. There was a range of fae in the court from all ranks, from diplomats like the ambassador whose company he’d just enjoyed, to lowly attendants bearing platters of fine drinks for all who desired them. There were fewer people than usual at court today, which gave Duada a sickly feeling in the pit of his stomach; that usually meant the Queen was about to share bad news. The Summerland Queen carried her court as elegantly and lavishly as she did everything else, and airing out dirty laundry in public was not something she was fond of.

“Your majesty,” he replied, bowing respectfully, feeling the eyes of the other courtiers on him. That was a common enough feeling, given his reputation, but there was something he didn’t like about the attention today. “How may I be of service to Your Radiance today, dear Aunt?”

“Spare me the pleasantries, Nephew,” she said, waving her hand dismissively. Despite her bright and vibrant attire, her expression was aloof—more so than usual with Duada. “I summoned you here precisely because of your idea of ‘pleasantries.’”

Duada knew damn well where this conversation was going, which was why he was going to waffle as long as he possibly could. “I do apologize for my tardiness in responding to your summons. But I must say, though your luminosity outshines my own on the best of days, I wished to make myself presentable to-”

“You may dispense of your efforts to change the subject as well,” she cut him off, and he let his shoulders slump, not used to his games being nipped in the bud so early. “This has become a rather serious matter, Duada. I have received word from the duchess who visited our court last month,” she said, standing up and taking slow steps down the stairs of her throne.

Duada smiled, remembering the good duchess fondly. “I remember her, yes. Will she be visiting us again? Am I to organize some kind of welcoming feast?”

“On the contrary, her letter made it sound like you did most of the ‘feasting’ while she was here,” she said pointedly, reaching Duada’s level and looking at him sternly. Duada raised his eyes to the ceiling with an innocent smile as the Queen passed by. “From the sound of it, you feasted rather sumptuously with her, as well as five of her handmaidens, her personal cook, and the captain of her guard.”

There were a few whispers around the court as Duada folded his hands behind his back, and a few of the female courtiers blushed.

“All perfectly pleasant women to entertain, dear Aunt,” he said with a smile. He didn’t even remember fucking the cook, but there were a lot of things he didn’t remember about that particular night.

“Ordinarily, dear Duada,” she continued, striding up and down the court slowly, looking as ethereal and elegant as the aurora borealis, “I turn a blind eye to your dallying. You are a member of my highest ranking circle of relatives, and I appreciate your diplomatic talents.”

Duada was genuinely surprised at the compliment, and he offered a sincere smile. “I never knew you took my work to heart, your Majesty.”

“You know well that I pay close attention to all of the goings on in my court, Duada,” she said, rolling her eyes, “and in your case, I must sometimes pay closer attention than I’d like. What I’ve found has been causing a great deal of trouble.”



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