A Discovery of Secrets and Fate (Chronicles of the Stone Veil 2)
After all, I’ve taken on a powerful dark fae and lived to tell the tale.
I’m the key to thwarting a prophecy.
I’m wearing a sexy-as-hell outfit, and I know, without a doubt, that these boots make it even sexier.
I’ve totally got this.
“Shall we go then?” Carrick says, turning an about-face to offer me his arm.
It’s then that I notice he’s changed into an outfit that resembles the style that Pyke wore earlier, except all in black.
Carrick has always looked magnificent in black, and I love that we match colors.
“Let’s go,” I reply, hooking my arm through his.
* * *
I’m not prepared for the splendor of the party that’s being thrown in Carrick’s honor. And let’s be clear, it’s for Carrick, not me. He knows many of the fae we stroll by who greet him with polite nods or big smiles. I still get glares or looks of disapproval, but I let it roll off my back. I’m here for a mission, and, when I leave, I’ll never be coming back.
In my short time here in Faere, I’ve learned to completely turn off my receptors to the feelings that Light Fae produce. I’m not going to be fooled in the slightest that the delightful sensation means a Light Fae is good and I can’t rely on that as my indicator.
The party is held outside, extending from the massive veranda off the back of the castle down to the back lawns where huge tents are erected and bathed in twinkling lights.
The range of fashion attire is boggling, again confirming that, in Faere, there are no trends. People dress the way they want, but they do all have one thing in common.
They want to be noticed.
This party is only for the nobles and gentry to attend at the royal family’s invitation. There are no gnomes or cute little fairies flitting about. All humanoid-looking Light Fae with superior good looks, enormous power I don’t want to cross, and inflated egos vying for attention.
Carrick has my hand tucked into his elbow as we meander through the crowd. He makes no effort to stop and talk to anyone, nor does he introduce me, for which I am grateful. I know everyone here has heard who I am, and since humans are in general disfavor, I prefer to stay out of any limelight. The best thing about being socially shunned by these Light Fae is that it makes me less self-conscious in the outfit I’m wearing. Of course, I still feel my skin get hot and prickly every time Carrick’s eyes graze over me, but he’s reined in that lust I saw earlier, making me even doubt if that’s what I saw.
Eventually, Carrick and I walk to a tent where a marble floor has been laid upon the unnaturally green grass, and people are dancing to a slow waltz. There is no band, so I have no clue where the music is coming from. We walk the perimeter, stopping to accept a fizzy drink from a servant that Carrick advises me is safe to drink but is potent, so to sip at it very slowly.
I take a tiny sip. It’s refreshingly light, and I want to gulp it. I start to raise it to my lips, but he warns, “Slowly, Finley. I don’t want to have to peel you off the floor.”
“Sorry,” I mutter as I look around and through the crowd. “Where is the royal family? Won’t they be attending?”
“Of course they will,” Carrick replies as we find a raised table in the corner to stand at. I set my drink on it, so I won’t be tempted to pull it to my mouth repetitively. Carrick does the same as he says, “They must make a grand entrance though. They will always be fashionably late to their own parties, making sure everyone is here first so that all eyes will be upon them when they arrive.”
“They really are a vain bunch,” I observe.
“You have no clue,” he utters in a low voice.
Suddenly, the swirling beat of the waltz fades away, and trumpeters start blowing a royal herald. All eyes turn to the steps leading down from the veranda, and there stands the royal family at the top.
Queen Nimeyah is a spectacle to behold in a blood-red gown of velvet that’s long-sleeved, fits through the bodice, but flares at the hips into a full-length skirt that has lots of fluffy crinolines or something like that underneath. The front is cut wide and low on her chest, exposing the inside swells of her breasts. Diamonds are crusted in a pattern starting just below where her navel would be, and rise up her stomach. As it reaches her breastbone, the diamond studding curves around the sides of each breast, fanning out into an image of stretched wings all the way to the tops of her shoulders.