The brown-haired Seelie Faerie, Kallistê, and another Seelie Faerie with tan skin and platinum blond hair tied in a man bun were lounging casually at the table when Willodean returned me to the dining room. They no longer had plates before them, but still sipped from golden goblets. Real gold—not foil or paint—real. Our mismatched cutlery flashed in my mind as I paused at the other end of the table. Such wealth—such staggering wealth, when we could hardly get a copper.
Idiotic wild beasts had the villagers called us. But compared to them, this place, the elegant, graceful way they held their goblets, how the brown-haired one had called me human without hesitation ... we were all idiotic wild beasts to them.
Food still remained on the table, the array of spices lingered in the air, beckoning. I was starving, my head unnervingly light from not eating for so long.
"Before you ask again: the food is perfectly fine for you to eat," the master said, pointing to a vacant chair at the other end of the table. When I didn't move, he sighed sharply. "What do you want, then?"
I said nothing. To eat, to slay the Imperial Lords, to save my family ...
The new Seelie Faerie drawled from the other end of the table, "I told you so, Phoebus." He flicked a glance towards his friend. "Decades alone with no woman to idle with has made your skills with females rusty."
Phoebus. He glowered at the faerie, shifting in his seat. I tried not to show my shock and stiffen at the other piece of information the faerie had given away. Decades. I tucked the new information away.
Phoebus didn't long much older than me, perhaps a year or so, but his kind was immortal. He could be hundreds of years old. Thousands. Millions even.
"Well," the new faerie said, his attention focusing on me. "Excuse my companions and their rude manners and let me introduce myself." He smiled broadly, "I am General Oberon. Commander of Elanor's armies. Nice to meet you, lovely lady."
Is this some kind of joke they are playing? A game to taunt me? Wolves ready to pounce—that's what they were. I was all too aware of my every breath as I returned a small, shy smile. Best to start acting now, it might take some time befriending them.
The faerie wore a leather baldric over his plain white shirt, though it bore no weapons. I doubted he needed them, judging on the scars he wore on his skin. You didn't need weapons when you were a weapon yourself.
"At least she doesn't look half as bad now. A relief, I suppose, if she were to live with us. Though the tunic isn't as pretty as a dress," Kallistê said, blue eyes fixed on me.
"I'd prefer not to wear that dress," I said, keeping the shiver from my voice.
"And why not?" Kallistê crooned, her voice alluring.
It was Phoebus who answered for me. "Because killing all of us would be easier in pants."
I kept my face blank, willed my heart to be calm as I stood there. Kallistê coughed breaking the silence and said, "I will take my leave now. I have a meeting with one of the courtiers tomorrow." She stood up and gave a small incline of her head to Phoebus before disappearing into the hall.
I waited for the sound of footsteps to recede before I said, "Now that I'm here, what ... what do you plan to do with me?"
Oberon snorted, but Phoebus said with a snarl of annoyance, "Just sit down."
An empty seat had been magically pulled out at the end of the table. So much food, piping hot, and wafting the smells of those enticing spices. The servants had probably brought out new food while I dressed. So much wasted. I clenched my fists.
Phoebus rose, stalking around the table—closer and closer, each movement a lethal grace, a predator blooded with power. It was an effort to keep still—especially after he picked up a dish, brought it over to me, and piled some asparagus and meat on my plate.
I said quietly, "I can serve myself." Anything, anything to keep him well away from me.
Phoebus paused, so close that with one motion of his hands, I would be dead. "It's an honour for a human to be served by a Seelie Faerie," he said roughly.
I swallowed hard. My throat went dry as he continued piling all sorts of foods, stopping only when it was heaping with meat and sauce and bread, and then filled my glass with pale sparkling wine. I loosed a breath when he finally walked back to his seat, though he could probably hear it.
All I wanted to do was to bury my face in my plate and then eat my way down the table, but I pinned my hands under my thighs and stared at the two faeries.
They watched me closely, too closely to be casual. Phoebus straightened a bit and said, "You look ... better than before."
Was that complement? I could have sworn Oberon gave Phoebus and encouraging nod.
"And your skin is ... clean."
Perhaps it was my intense hunger making me hallucinate the piss-poor attempt at flattery. Even the village boys could do better than that. Still, I leaned back and kept my words calm and quiet. "You're Seelie Faeries—faerie nobility?"
Oberon coughed and looked at Phoebus. "You can answer that question."
"Yes," Phoebus said, frowning—as if pondering what to say to me. He settled on merely: "We are."
Fine, then. A man—faerie of few words. I was an unwanted guest in his home. If I were him, I wouldn't want to talk to me, either.
"What do you plan to do with me now that I am here?"
Phoebus's eyes didn't leave my face as he said, "Nothing. Do whatever you want."
"So, I am not to be your slave?" I dared ask, leaning forwards in my seat.
Oberon choked on his wine. But Phoebus didn't smile. "I don't keep slaves."
I ignore the release of tightness in my chest at that. "But what am I to do with my life here?" I pressed. "Do you ... do you wish for me to earn my keep? To work?" Perhaps it was a stupid question. But I had to ask him—had to know. My job was going to get harder if I had to earn my keep.
Phoebus stiffened. "What you do with your life isn't my problem."
Oberon pointedly cleared his throat, and Phoebus flashed him a glare. After an exchanged look I could read, Phoebus sighed and said, "Don't you have any ... interests?"
"No." It wasn't entirely true, but I wasn't about to explain the painting and the sketching to him. Not when he was apparently having a great deal of trouble just talking civilly to me.
Oberon muttered, "So typically human."
Phoebus's mouth quirked to the side. "Do whatever you want. Just don't get into trouble."
"Am I free to roam your lands?" What I meant was: Am I free to roam to find the black milkweed as well as the Imperial Lords?
"Yes," Phoebus said tersely. "Though as I said before, don't enter that forest alone."
"What's in the forest?" I asked. I needed more information about anything and everything. I couldn't ask outright, else they would question me.
"Why so many questions all of a sudden?" Oberon said, eyes narrowing. "From your quiet behaviour from before to this? I don't understand."
My breath caught in my throat. Apparently, all attempts to flatter me were dead and gone. So I looked Oberon right in his pale green eyes and said, "I was just curious. I will be living the rest of my life with you won't I? I would need to get to know you and my surroundings better."
Oberon made to open his mouth but Phoebus spoke before he could say anything. "Enough, Oberon," Phoebus said to his courtier with a snarl. He turned back to me. "Worse things than us roam in that forest. Those are the creatures your people create their legends from. Creatures that have no leash to control."
"And you do?" I demanded, anger rising to devour any common sense.
"Some would say it's unwise to insult a Fae in his home," Phoebus ground out. "Some would say you should be grateful for me finding you before another one of my kind came to claim your debt, for sparing your life and then offering you the chance to live in comfort."
I shot to my feet, wisdom be damned, and was about to kick back my chair when invisible hands clapped on my arms and shoved me back into the seat.
"Do not do whatever you were contemplating, Eleena," Phoebus said.
I went still as the tang of magic seared my nose. I tried to twist in the chair, testing the invisible bonds. But my arms were secured, and my back was pressed so hard into the wood that it ached. I glanced at the knife beside my plate. I should have gone for it first—worthless effort or no.
"I am only going to warn you once," Phoebus said, too softly for my liking. "Only once and then it's on you, human. I don't care if you go and live somewhere else in Asteria. But I can guarantee you that others who find you and shelter you ... it wouldn't be pleasant."
His words were a low blow to me. If I wanted to go search for the black milkweed, it would have to be with one of them. And even if I dared risk it ... even if I succeeded in finding at least a petal of the black milkweed, how would I poison the Imperial Lord? I probably couldn't even get close to him—and once I do, I would still have to gain his trust.
I opened my mouth but his snarl rattled the glasses. "Is that not a fair enough bargain for you?" His teeth were exposed, showing two sharp canines. "The food is not enchanted, or drugged, and it will be your own damn fault if you faint. So you're going to sit at this table and eat, Eleena. And Oberon will do his best to be polite." He threw a pointed look in his direction. Oberon shrugged.
The invisible bonds loosened and I winced, as I rubbed the soreness around my wrists. The bonds on my legs remained intact. One glance at Phoebus's smoldering amber eyes told me what I wanted to know: his guest or not, I was not going to be leaving until I'd eaten something. I'd think of the sudden change in my plans to search for the faevenom later. Now ... for now, I eyed the silver fork and carefully picked it up.
They still watched me—watched my every move, the flare of my nostrils as I sniffed the food on my plate. No metallic stench of magic. And faeries couldn't lie. So he had to be right about the food then. Stabbing a piece of steak, I took a small bite.
It was an effort to keep from grunting as I ate. I hadn't had food this good like this in years. Even the meals we had eaten in our former wealth would taste like ashes or soil compared to this. I ate my entire plate in silence, too aware of the Seelie Faeries observing my every bite. But as I reached for my second slice of the chocolate tart, the food vanished. Just vanished—as if it had never existed, not a crumb left behind.
Swallowing hard, I set my fork down so they wouldn't see my hands start to shake.
"One more bite and you'll hurl your guts up," Phoebus said, drinking deeply from his goblet.
The bonds holding be disappeared. A silent permission for me to leave.
"Thank you for the meal," I managed to say. It was all I could think of right now.
"Won't you stay to drink with us?" Oberon said with sweet venom, raising his goblet from where he lounged in his seat.
I braced my clean hands on the table to rise. "I'd rather not. I'm tired. I would like to sleep."
"It's been a few decades since I last saw a human," Oberon drawled, "but all of you never change, so I don't think it's wrong asking why you find our company so unpleasant."
At the other end of the table, Phoebus gave his friend a long, warning look. Oberon ignored it.
"You're Seelie Faeries," I said tightly, "I'd ask why you'd even bother inviting me here at all—even as far as dining with me." Fool—I would have been killed ten times already.
"True. But we wanted to learn more about you since you'll be here for a good while," Phoebus said, his lips in a thin line. "But Oberon's pride tends to get in the way of his manners." He sighed, as if he was done with me, and said, "Go rest. We're busy most days, so if you need anything, ask the staff. They'll help you."
"Why?" I asked, the word blurting out of my mouth before I could control it. "Why be so generous?" Oberon gave me a look that suggested he had no idea either, but Phoebus stared at me for a long moment.
"I kill too often," Phoebus said finally, shrugging his broad shoulders, "And you're insignificant enough to not ruffle the estate. Unless you decide to start killing us."
A faint warmth bloomed in my cheeks and neck. Insignificant, yes. I was insignificant to their lives, their power, their magic. As insignificant as the chipped painting of my brothers' and my eyes I'd painted on our bedroom's wall. "Well ...," I said, not quite feeling grateful at all, "thank you."
He gave a distracted nod and motioned for me to leave. Dismissed. Like the lowly human girl I am. Oberon propped his chin on his fist and gave me a lazy half-smile.
I had enough of this. I got to my feet and backed towards the door. Putting my back to them would have been like walking away from a wolf. They said nothing when I slipped out the door.
Not a moment later, Oberon's barking laugh echoed into the halls, followed by a sharp, vicious growl that shut him up.
I slept fitfully that night, even though the pillows were the softest I had ever felt and I had more room to stretch my body. The lock on my bedroom door felt more of a joke than anything.