Marjani nodded and followed Ula into the hall where the elf awaited.
As they walked back down the spiral staircase, it occurred to her that Ula’s daughter must be Rosana do Rio. The young woman Adric couldn’t seem to forget, even though he knew that as alpha, he had to mate with another earth fada. He couldn’t mate with a river fada—especially the Rock Run alpha’s sister—without creating a huge rift in the clan.
Marjani had warned Adric to stay away from Rosana. “She’s not for you,” she said.
Now she mentally cringed. Goddess, she’d been a self-righteous ass. If she got home—when she got home—she owed Ric an apology.
Because she understood now how you could want someone all wrong for you. Logic didn’t enter into it. What had Ula said? The heart wins over strategy every time.
On the tower’s main floor, someone had swept the snow into white heaps against the walls. In the background, a high, otherworldly voice crooned a song in an ancient fae language, and magical fires that cast no heat had been lit in firepits scattered around the large, circular space.
In the center stood Sindre and Roald, deep in conversation. They made an imposing pair—the king with his long, almost feline body and coldly perfect face; and the fae warrior with his broad shoulders, wide chest and hawkish features.
The king had changed into a long-tailed, shimmering silver shirt and blue pants that fit like he’d been poured into them. His white-gold hair hung loose around his shoulders and hanging from his neck was a fiery diamond as big as Marjani’s quartz. Other diamonds glittered on his fingers, and a heavy, diamond-studded platinum bracelet encircled his wrist.
Roald had secured his mane of copper hair with a leather tie. He wore a black tunic embroidered with sinuous red and green dragons, and three emerald-and-gold hoops ran up the outside of each pointed ear.
Ula squeezed Marjani’s hand and dropped back. The perfect servant, when once she’d been an alpha’s mate.
And she was the lucky one. What the king had in mind for Marjani was worse.
She squared her shoulders and headed toward the two ice fae.
32
The click of Marjani’s heels against the white marbled granite sounded loud in her ears. Sindre and Roald turned to watch her.
“That will be all,” the king said to Ula.
“Very well.” With a nod, she left Marjani alone with the two purebloods.
Marjani quelled the cowardly urge to run after Ula and beg her to stay. Instead, she kept moving, stopping a few feet from the men and inclining her head like the alpha’s second she was. “Good evening, my lords.”
“Good evening, Marjani mín.” Sindre looked her over with unmistakable satisfaction. “You look lovely. I thought that dress would suit you.”
She wanted to growl that she wasn’t “his” Marjani, but she forced herself to thank him. “So do you,” she added.
He lifted a brow in question.
She smiled sweetly. “Look lovely, I mean. The silver brings out your eyes.”
Take that, you condescending prick.
A beat passed, and then Sindre broke into the most genuine smile she’d yet seen from him. “Thank you,” he returned, while beside him, Roald harrumphed.
Two elves bearing trays of appetizers emerged from one of the arched doorways. A third elf, a white-haired, dark-skinned man with a cheery smile on his round face, appeared at Marjani’s elbow.
“Some nectar, Miss?” He offered her a sparkling gold liquid in a crystal goblet.
Marjani’s eyes widened. She’d heard of fae nectar, of course. An army could travel for days on the sparkling drink, which magically provided both energy and necessary nutrients.
“Thank you.” She accepted the goblet, no longer worried about eating and drinking Sindre’s offerings. He wanted her to willingly accept his geas, which meant no tricks on his part.
Sindre touched his goblet to hers. “To a productive negotiation.”
“I look forward to it, your highness.” She let her lips curve.
His left brow quirked.
She’d surprised him. Good. That was the plan: Flirt with Sindre. Let him think she’d changed her mind so she could catch him off-guard—and then strike.
She brought the goblet to her mouth. The nectar smelled amazing, like ice wine and apricots, and tasted even better.
Fane arrived along with a man who looked so much like him that she blinked. Same lean good looks. Same blond hair, although the older man’s reached halfway down his back. Same wry smile and gravelly voice.
“Arne,” said the king. “I wasn’t aware you were invited to dinner.”
“My lord.” The handsome blond fae inclined his head and then grinned. “I assumed it was an oversight, since both my father and my son were included.”
Sindre’s answering smile was indulgent. “I’ll tell the elves to set another place.”
Marjani barely heard as Fane gave her a slow, hot look that moved down the aqua dress to the silly satin heels and then back up.
“Hey, there.” His deep voice was soft. Intimate. “You look like you’re feeling better.”
She couldn’t control her body’s reaction at that heated look and voice. Her nipples tightened and her stomach hollowed out. But her reply was cool because she had to convince Sindre she’d switched her interest to him. She couldn’t even tell Fane why, because she knew he’d try and stop her.
“I am,” she said. “And you?”
A small frown creased Fane’s brow. “I’m good, thanks.”
He edged closer, and she edged back. His frown increased. Just as he opened his mouth to say something, Arne turned to her.
“And you must be this Marjani I’m hearing so much about.”
“Yeah?” She eyed him warily.
“Meet my dad,” Fane said in a wry but affectionate tone. “Arne Morningstar, this is Marjani Savonett.”
“Peace to you and yours,” she said to Arne—and let out a squeak when he pulled her into a hug.
“Peace to you and yours.” He kissed both her cheeks and murmured, “I’m here to help.”
Their eyes met, and she nodded.
The five of them formed a circle. Roald was the only one not drinking nectar. Instead, he had his broad hand wrapped around a frosty mug of beer.
Lord Roald’s grandson. She looked from Fane to the fae warrior.
She’d assumed Fane was basically a hanger-on at the ice fae court, but he had a powerful, high-ranking grandfather. It explained a few things—like why he was still alive. Sindre might punish Fane—she’d seen that up close and personal—but even the king would think twice before killing the grandson of the captain of his guard.
And on top of that, his father, Arne, was clearly a favorite of the king.
The five of them made small talk. Arne managed to bring the tension down a few notches, joking and telling stories until even Roald unbent enough to chuckle. It was kind of surreal—she’d gone from a cage to a freaking cocktail party.
Except one of the men wanted to steal her freedom and another—Roald—barely managed to be polite to her.
Still, that left her two allies, if Arne could be trusted. She’d been in worse situations.
She sipped her nectar, enjoying the little charge the sparkling liquid gave her.
Sindre waved one of the ever-smiling elves over. “Try the salmon tartare,” he said. “It was caught just this morning and prepared with lime sauce.”
The tartare was mounded on a tiny cracker. The salmon’s fresh, raw scent made her cat salivate. She practically inhaled the first one, and the king urged her to have another as more fae arrived, decked out in designer clothes and expensive jewelry. The men ran their eyes over Marjani as if she were a T-bone for sale, and the women glanced knowingly from her to the king.
Marjani tightened her fingers around the goblet’s crystal stem, fighting the urge to bare her fangs at them.
A few feet away, Fane exchanged air kisses with a statuesque redhead
in a tight black dress that barely covered her ass. “Viktorie. You’re looking beautiful, as always.”
“How kind of you to say so. And you, love?” The woman ran a possessive hand down his arm. “How have you been?”
Ha. And he says he doesn’t fit in.
Marjani clenched her teeth so hard it hurt.
Mine, hissed the cat. Mate.
No, she snapped back.
A tall blonde with skin a shade darker than Marjani’s ran practiced eyes over her dress. “I love that green. Is it a Favreau?”
She shrugged. “Hell if I know.”
“She’s a fae designer,” the blonde explained, a little too helpfully. “French.”
“It is.” Sindre touched the small of Marjani’s back. “Specially made for my guest.”
Another round of knowing looks was exchanged. Marjani set her jaw, the small pleasure she’d taken in the dress evaporating.
The blonde’s mouth curved. She smoothed a hand down her own outfit, a slinky gold number with cutout shoulders. “I knew it. I absolutely adored her spring collection.”
“I prefer Adèle myself,” a silver-haired woman interjected.
“Adèle?” The blonde waved her hand dismissively. “She’s so last year.” She glanced at Marjani. “Don’t you agree?”
She shrugged. “Never heard of her.”
The silver-haired fae’s look was pitying. “She’s a fada, you know. The animals don’t bother with fashion like us frivolous fae.”
Both women laughed.
Marjani flashed on Corban’s wasted body, and Luc, forced to accept the geas of one of these snobby females. She raised her chin and showed her teeth in a grin that had both women stepping back.
“No. I have better things to do.”
“Of course,” the blonde said hurriedly. With a muttered excuse, she and her friend slunk off to join another group.
“My sweet,” Sindre said in her ear, “I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t terrorize the other guests.”
She gave him the same toothy smile. “It’s your fault for inviting an animal to dinner.”
The corner of his mouth quirked up. “We’d better keep you fed, then. Here, try the caviar.” He heaped a spoonful of shiny black eggs on a small round of bread and handed it to her.
She took a cautious bite. The briny flavor was unexpectedly good. “Not bad,” she allowed. “Tastes kind of like the sea.”
“Have another then.”
The man was definitely going all out for her. If she didn’t know he was a cold, scheming SOB, she might have even fallen for it. But she was hungry and she could travel a long way on a full belly, so she let him ply her with appetizers.
Fane had extricated himself from the redhead to chat with his father, but she sensed his growing tension—and hurt. It made her own shoulders tighten.
She sent him a pleading look and he shuttered his eyes. She let out a small sigh of relief until she realized the two of them were practically reading each other’s minds. And they were definitely sensing each other’s emotions…like mates did.
No. She deliberately gave him her back.
He didn’t like that. She felt his disbelief and agitation.
This is so not good.
Lord Roald joined Arne and Fane and they started a low-voiced conversation that no one but a fada could’ve picked up. She sipped her nectar and unashamedly eavesdropped as Sindre greeted another guest.
“I’ve been in talks with Lord Hamar,” Roald told Fane. “His daughter is interested in taking you as her consort.”
Marjani’s stomach constricted. From the corner of her eye, she saw Fane glance at the redhead in the black dress.
“Lady Viktorie?”
“That’s the one. A lovely woman, and strong. She’ll give you healthy children.”
Claws pricked at Marjani’s fingertips. Like hell.
“But what about the mate bond?” asked Arne.
Roald waved his hand. “Children will come as long as neither of them is bonded elsewhere. Fane has proven himself in that regard. There are no guarantees, but it’s likely.”
“It’s likely,” Fane repeated flatly. “And I’d be her consort, not her mate.”
“Of course,” said Roald. “You can’t expect a pureblood to offer you more.”
“Of course.”
“Naturally,” Roald added, “the offer is contingent on your becoming a full member of the court.”
Marjani gritted her teeth. She was happy for Fane, she was. This was it, the thing he’d spent six decades working toward—full acceptance in the ice fae court. He’d even be the consort of a fae lady.
And Marjani had told him herself that the two of them didn’t have a future. So why did she want to scratch out Lady Viktorie’s tip-tilted brown eyes?
“Please tell Lord Hamar that I’m honored,” Fane told Roald. “Deeply so. But I’m not interested.”
“You’d choose the fada female over a pureblood fae?”
“I would.” Fane swallowed. “I do.”
Oh, Fane.
“Try these.” The king appeared at Marjani’s elbow with a small plate of appetizers.
“Thank you.” She forced herself to smile and accept the plate.
A female elf in a flowing green tunic and striped leggings came forward and bowed to Sindre. “Dinner is served, your highness.”
He nodded and flicked his fingers. A long wooden table materialized in the center of the room, its gleaming surface set with heavy silver chargers topped with paper-fine ivory porcelain. Down the center snaked an ice sculpture of intricately carved flowers and vines lit by cut-glass votives. The finishing touch was the tiny fae lights that drifted down to arch over the table in a sparkling bower.
Marjani gaped. She’d bet there were only a few fae in the entire world who could teleport an object that large without even touching it. Good lord, the man was powerful.
“Well,” she muttered, “that’s handy.”
The king’s lean cheek creased. “The elves prepare the table in the kitchen. I just ’port it in.”
They took their seats, Roald to Sindre’s right and Marjani to his left. Arne took the chair on her other side with Fane across the table next to his grandfather.
She met Fane’s eyes. He lowered one eyelid in a wink, and she dropped her gaze to her plate.
“Prosecco?” asked the elf in the green tunic, and when Marjani nodded, the elf removed her empty goblet and set a glass of sparkling wine in its place.
The first course arrived, delicate spring greens topped with walnuts and cranberries. She ate the salad and sipped her prosecco as the fae gossiped about people she didn’t know. Cat’s balls, she just wanted this to be over with.
But she knew the fae. She might as well enjoy her dinner, because Sindre would get to things in his own good time. And the more time her quartz had to recharge, the better.
Arne launched into a story about his travels that had everyone grinning and shaking their heads. Sindre leaned back in his chair, smiling with the rest, but his glittering gray eyes kept turning to her. She felt like a rabbit staked out for a wolf.
The second course arrived, a dish with cod and berries and some other ingredients she couldn’t name, but it was delicious. More wine was served, but Marjani switched to water. She needed to keep her head clear.
Roald murmured something to the king about Blaer, and Sindre said, “She’s no longer at the court.”
Roald lifted a brow. “She got away?”
Sindre’s mouth hardened. “Lady Blaer has been stripped of her position as my advisor and banished from the court for a year and a day.”
All around the table, brows shot up.
Marjani exchanged a look with Fane. That was good news. She concentrated on buttering a roll. “And the man from my clan?”
Sindre moved a shoulder. “I don’t keep track of Blaer’s servants.”
Her fingers clenched on the butter knife. “He’s not her servant. He’s her prisoner.�
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“Is he?” Sindre sipped his wine. “He accepted her geas. I can tell you this—he’s not in the castle. I assume he left with her.”
“I see.” She set down her roll and stared at her half-eaten fish.
Further down the table, a man laughed, and her stomach turned over, the rich food threatening to come back up. That these fae could sit here in their expensive clothes and jewels, and eat and drink and laugh as if Luc meant nothing.
Her fangs pricked her gums. The cat wanted to taste some fae blood—and she was tempted to let it.
Fane set down his fork. She shot him a fierce stay-where-you-are glance.
A hand touched her back. Arne, in a quick gesture of comfort. “Did I tell you the story about the human and the pot of gold?” he asked the king.
“Yes,” said Sindre, “but I don’t think our guest has heard it.”
Marjani released her breath. She only half-heard the story, a long, involved tale of a man who’d do anything to get rich, even trap an elf, but she silently blessed Fane’s dad for giving her a chance to calm herself.
The elves cleared away the second course and served the next, a small steak surrounded by mushrooms in a wine sauce. The meat was so tender it practically melted in Marjani’s mouth, but she only managed to eat a few pieces.
A few more courses followed, interspersed with tiny glasses of sorbet to clear the palette, but Marjani couldn’t even pretend to enjoy the food. It was funny, during the Darktime there’d been times when she’d been so hungry, she’d have done almost anything for a meal like this. Now, though, she just wanted this interminable dinner to be over.
She checked her quartz. The energy level had reached thirty-five percent, still too low.
At a nod from the king, the elves cleared the table. A cheeseboard was passed and after-dinner drinks served.
In an unguarded moment, she glanced at Fane. Their gazes snagged, and she felt his concern.
That’s when it hit her. With Luc gone, Sindre had nothing to hold over her—except Fane. What if the king realized they were mates? Or at least, that the bond was a possibility.
He uses mates against each other. Hurts one to bend the other to his will. And it wouldn’t be her that Sindre would hurt—it would be Fane.
Charming Marjani Page 22
