Page 9 of The Hidden Fae Prince
“Yes?” Nevander asks, sliding his gauntlets back on.
“Why were you here?” Seren asks.
Nevander fastens each buckle. “I was watching you.”
Seren’s blood chills. His mind leaps without permission to a set of footprints. A flash of green. The idea is preposterous. “How long have you been watching me?”
“I arrived just when the augray attacked.” Nevander’s gaze flicks away, then arrows directly to Seren. “Today, that is. I’ve watched you on and off for longer than that.”
Seren’s tentative relief shatters. “What the fuck.” He yanks away. “I wasn’t imagining it.”
Nevander remains silent. Unreadable.
Seren recalls the song of running water. The flash of gold, the color of Nevander’s hair. “Last week, by the brook.”
“I was there,” Nevander says.
Seren stumbles a step back. Another. To think he was grateful to this man. “What the fuck? What do you—why?”
“I am your guardian,” Nevander says, with an edge Seren doesn’t understand. It sounds like a threat to Seren’s frantic mind.
“This is insane. Never mind, I don’t want…” Seren swallows back the words, because hedoeswant to know what that means. “Just stop. Don’t watch me. Don’t follow me.”
“Once again, I’m not bound to obey your orders.” Nevander’s brow furrows, and he touches one hand to the base of his throat. “I must go. These woods aren’t safe, Seren. Return to the village. Stay there until…”
Seren clenches his fists and holds out until he can’t bear the weight of Nevander’s gaze. “Until what?”
“Until I come for you,” Nevander says, and vanishes.
4
Such Small Illusions
Theroyaldaisglowswith a sourceless light, like a haven of morning overlooking the gala. Evening drapes the rest of the courtyard in blue shadows, and the reveling fae are the dancing stars. Music ebbs and flows with the musicians’ whims. A trapeze artist flies across the far end.
Nevander mounts the dais at Haelwen’s gesture. Calm and composed. He’s spent the day resisting the urge to rush in and demand that Haelwen bring the prince home. Almost as strong as the urge to return to Wymond and abduct Calithel now. Ask forgiveness later.
But recklessness won’t help. Bringing Calithel back to a court in chaos would be even riskier than leaving him in Wymond. Nevander must persuade Haelwen first. He’s already secured testimony from the Lord of Elsewhere. One of Yarrow’s wild fae has witnessed augray crossing into Prima.
Nevander sent a tidingbird to Valerian, too. Valerian should have more information on the nightlands border, as well as augray behavior. But the wild fae’s words should prove urgent enough, as long as Haelwen is in her right mind.
Elladar Palace hosts parties most nights, but this is the first time Queen Haelwen has attended in months. She presides from a floral swing, surrounded by the lords and ladies most daring in their quest for favor.
Foremost among them are Gevain of Summer’s Edge and Morana of Brightwood, each holding a crystal goblet.
“Lord Guardian,” Haelwen says. “We need a judge for the glamour game.”
Nevander bows. “At your service.”
“Will you accept Nevander’s judgment?” Haelwen asks her courtiers.
“With pleasure,” Gevain says smoothly. He’s accented his shimmering russet complexion with green pixie dust.
“With pleasure.” Morana twirls a strand of lavender hair. She wears her usual white dueling leathers. “Though perhaps not as much pleasure as Gevain.”
Laughter ripples without touching Nevander. Gevain’s reputation precedes him—he flirts with everyone. Thankfully, Nevander has his own cold reputation. Nobody expects him to relax into the revelry.
Nevander should be relieved to see Haelwen so lively, her smile as bright as her crown of diamonds and sapphires. He should be focused on his duty. Not torn asunder, half his attention still lost in the human realm.
