Page 24 of Slaying the Shifter Prince
“You know me too well.” He gave what on anyone else I’d have called a rueful smile, but I didn’t think him capable of rueful. “Look after it, would you?Please?” His expression soured. “I have things to do and her inability to speak is irritating.”
I beamed, and I swore Celestine’s eyes glimmered with amusement. Maybe it was just their odd dawn sky colouring.
“Very well. I can keep her occupied for the day. Some of the others are joining me shortly. I’m sure they’ll find her entertaining.” She stroked my hair like I really was a pet.
I clenched my jaw against a reaction. Though it seemed a fond gesture, rather than one that signalled ownership, as the prince’s touches seemed to.
“You’re the best.” The prince flashed her a dazzling smile that seized my breath for a second, because it was warm and unguarded and gorgeous.
But only for a second.
Because then I remembered who and what it belonged to. The fae who’d murdered my sister. Whatever he may look like while he slept, and however gorgeous his smile, I had to remember that. Every single moment.
His gaze turned to me and the smile flattened. Eyebrows lowering, he leant close and gripped my arm. “Remember, you behave for Celestine, little bird.”
With that delightful warning, he left.
She sighed and drained her coffee before tidying away the cup with a click of her fingers.
I didn’t want to envy a fae, but that was a useful trick.
Tension clipping her movements, she set up a particularly plush rug in front of the fire. “He’s… uh… Well, he’s told us you’re not allowed on the furniture, so…” With a wince, she met my gaze.
An apologetic fae. Wonders would never cease.
I nodded to show I understood. I even gave her a half smile to try to make her feel better. Still, I wasn’t going to speak to her. My silence extended to all of them. They’d only run to their prince and tell him everything if I opened my mouth.
I settled by the fire while Celestine flitted between the rooms, readying for her guests. As she passed through the parlour, she mentioned little details about the treats she’d be serving and asked what I liked. Did I prefer tea or coffee? Did I take sugar or honey or prefer them plain? What did I think of fae food? Was it much different from what I was used to?
Innocuous questions, but it felt like they were designed that way—to lure me into talking. And if I started, who knew what other, more probing things she’d ask?
Still, I found myself tempted. She had such an easy manner, a welcoming warmth that reminded me of my sister.
I pulled my knees to my chest and stared into the pink-flamed fire. The stories said only iron or aconite’s poison could kill fae, but that didn’t stop me fantasising about burning the prickish prince.
Eventually, Celestine was ready and emerged from her chamber in a silky gown that skimmed over her frame. There was something delicate to her. True, most fae women I’d seen were slender and willowy—that was why they liked human women so much. Our exotic curves excited them. But on top of that, Celestine’s skin had a blueish tinge, like it was so thin it had grown transparent.
Even without the prince’s warning, I wouldn’t have given her any trouble.
When a knock sounded at the door, she bounced on the balls of her feet, eyes lighting up. “They’re here, Zita.” The smile she gave me was warm, save for the long canines it revealed. “I just know they’re going to love you.”
The door opened and admitted a dozen fae. Tall and short, but mostly tall. Pale and dark in colouring. Some wore smiles almost as warm as Celestine’s, while others had a cooler, more knowing quality to their expressions, especially when their gazes landed on me and sharpened.
Anya, the woman with bronze skin and cloud-like hair, was amongst them. She threw me a glance and muttered something to the woman next to her. What I hadn’t seen last night was that she had two short horns—they looked like twisted hazel branches sprouting from her forehead and sweeping back. When she took one of the offered cups, I saw that instead of fingernails, the tips of her long fingers were covered in bark.
As they served tea and coffee that appeared in a puff of steam, they filled the air with chatter and laughter. It wasn’t so different from when the women from the troupe gathered. We’d all bring our mending or other little tasks and something tasty to share, and we’d chat and eat as we worked. Well, I’d listen and they’d chat, but it was a comforting sound as I focused.
I had little skill with needle and thread, so I’d usually take my sketchbook and draw the same faces I always did. The prince’s and my sister’s. Sometimes diagrams of new moves on the silks or hoop would find their way onto the page, forming odd little borders. But always my focus was on those two faces—ones I wanted to keep seared into my memory forever.
Celestine brought over a saucer of tea and another of coffee. “The prince said you’re only—”
I cut her off with a nod. No prizes for guessing the rest of that sentence. I was a pet—no cups for me. I took both saucers and drained them.
“So that’s the prince’s new toy.” A fae with eyes the startling green of spring foliage inspected me. Their pointed face and lithe figure seemed somewhere along a spectrum of male and female, beautifully androgynous, and heightened by the short-cropped hair in pale gold-green like aspen leaves.
“She slept at the foot of his bed last night,” Anya said with a little toss of her head.
“But didn’t you—?”
