Page 110 of The Hidden Fae Prince
A sleepy Lord of Elsewhere enters the armory. Folly’s human face shows exhaustion clearly, shadows beneath his mismatched eyes. His dark hair is a mess, his deep green robe rumpled.
Valerian inspects the stone table, as if embarrassed to be interrupted.
Hopefully Folly hasn’t overheard much. Nevander attempts a smile. “Yarrow won’t appreciate your delayed return.”
“He won’t.” Folly sighs dramatically. Then beams. “You both should visit Elsewhere soon. You’re Valerian, right?”
Valerian takes a barely perceptible breath, then turns. His bright green eyes are unusually guarded. “Should I be flattered or alarmed that you’ve heard of me?”
Folly cocks his head before sweeping a theatrical bow. “Neither, of course. The Great Folarius, Lord of Elsewhere, master of magic and seer of sights, hears all and knows all.” He smooths his rumpled robe. “As for telling all, that’s another thing. The Great Folarius can keep a secret.”
“You don’t have to call him the Great Folarius,” Nevander adds.
Folly waves. “You can if you want. But Folly is fine.”
Valerian relaxes into his own dramatic bow. “A pleasure to meet you, Folly. You’ll have to tell me how you tamed our wild fae friend.”
“What brings you to the armory?” Nevander asks. He gestures at the blade-lined walls. “Though it’s being stubborn today.”
Folly stares blankly, then snaps his fingers. “Oh, right. I don’t need the armory, thankfully. I haven’t the faintestidea how to handle a stubborn armory. I was looking for you, because I’m actually looking for Tansy, and I can’t find him anywhere.” He catches his breath. “Have you seen Tansy?”
Spirits, Nevander doesn’t need this today. “Do I want to know why?”
Folly ruffles his hair, worsening the mess. “Seren asked me to speak with him.”
“He’s probably just sleeping in,” Valerian says. At the others’ questioning looks, he shrugs. “Tansy left the threshold revels with Gevain. I imagine that was exhausting for both of them.”
That makes sense. Nevander had forgotten Gevain and Tansy’s flirtation, given everything that followed. Still… “How do you know that? You weren’t at the party.”
Valerian winks. “I have my sources.”
“You have gossip,” Nevander corrects.
“The best kind of sources,” Valerian says, unperturbed. “Shall we have a proper breakfast before Nevander flees the palace and Folly hunts down Tansy?”
“No,” Nevander and Folly say in unison. Folly laughs, and Nevander continues. “We should find Tansy first, before he turns his leg to stone again.”
“He what?” Valerian asks.
“Again?” Folly throws up his hands and heads for the door.
Nevander follows. He should delegate this to Valerian and Folly. Odds are Valerian’s right: Tansy’s just sleeping off an adventurous night. But Tansy is important to Seren, and Nevander still feels so intensely responsible for his prince.
He can’t blame it on the vow anymore. Maybe that’s why it hurts so much for Seren to reject his care.
Nevander rubs his chest, but the ache isn’t physical. All he can do is hide the pain and try to be useful. One task at a time.
34
When He Couldn’t Pretend
Eyesscratchyandheartnumb, Seren ventures from his quarters. Idalia and Mustardseed wait as in the marble hallway, remarkably alert in their leaf green armor.
If they think anything of Seren’s disheveled hair, his clothes from the night before missing only the flower crown, they give no reaction. Either this is normal after festivals, or Seren’s better at concealing his exhaustion that he feels.
Mustardseed volunteers, “Nevander left for the hall of arms, which holds such wonderful blades and charms.”
“I’m not looking for him,” Seren asks, surprised his voice isn’t scratchy too. Just quiet. “Where is Primrose?”
