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It makes so much sense that there are little tables with helpful tools positioned clearly in the corners of the throne room. Amid swinging tails and fluttering wings, you can get a pair of soft earplugs, a leave me alone crystal (decidedly the proper term), and even an enchanted clip that helps mitigate scents for the wearer.
“All I’m saying is,” I whisper to Ollie as he brushes my hair to the side and fixes the clip in place over my ear, “open trade relations with humans for this stuff.”
He smiles wryly. “One does not simply bring magic to humans.”
“Magic?” I point. “These are earplugs.”
“Enchanted earplugs.”
“Comfortable earplugs. Call it science and patent the technology so no one can ask how it does what it do.”
Ollie’s smile turns smug. “Yes, well, I can absolutely picture faeries starting a human-faerie business on the basis of deceit.”
“Because you have a lovely imagination?” I flutter my lashes.
“It is impeccable.” He touches the tiniest kiss to my nose. “Humans have the technology to emulate at least the earplugs.”
“Right. But it’s expensive.” I reference the table, which happens to have a charming sign that says you can keep whatever you need. “This is free.”
Ollie lowers my hand. “This is marketing to an honest community.”
“Humans are stinky.”
He exhales a laugh. “Have I mentioned how much I adore that little spark that goes through your eye when you find something crass to say that is, in some shape or form, true?”
I grin. “Am I a menace yet?”
He kisses my nose again. “No. You are so fae it’s positively enchanting.”
I have never felt so seen in my life.
Despondency pollutes the joy in his eyes, and he releases a sigh. Taking my hand in his, he turns. “This will be unpleasant.”
“For them.”
“Your confidence is inspiring.”
Pulling myself up on my toes, I lean near Ollie’s ear, and whisper, “Thank you.”
His grip tightens on my hand. “Light of my life, please behave yourself and don’t say those words so easily.”
“My manners depend entirely on your brothers’ manners.”
“If you accidentally thank any of them, I will have to commit a murder.” He scowls over his shoulder. “Somehow. If it’s possible.”
“I have so much faith in you. You don’t even understand.”
“Don’t I? Your faith may be the only thing keeping me upright at present.” Tugging me closer to his side, he murmurs, “Do try not to put me in a troubling situation. I have never bested any of my brothers before. Not even once. I will not hesitate to fight for you, but that also means I will not hesitate to die for you.”
“Don’t you dare.”
“Monitor your tongue while we are not in the sort of place where I can properly do it for you.”
Heat scours my flesh while Ollie takes me down shimmering halls toward an astoundingly quaint dining room. It’s smaller than I expected from a palace so lavish. Lush green curtains of flowering plants pour from jewel-tone crown molding to create a meadow carpeting that floods beneath a dining table set made of woven branches. At the far head of the table, Cael—with brilliant orange wings on display behind him—pets a dark cat, which unravels the mystery of where Zylus ran off to after we entered the throne room. Opposite Cael’s seat, three bulky men dwarf the space in dramatic ways.
None of the fae men I know are particularly small, but Ollie, Zylus, Cael, and even Pollux carry their girth and height with a grace that Ollie’s brothers seem to entirely lack.
At the other head of the table, Markov’s sharp yellow eyes fix on me while Ollie guides me to the seat directly to the right of Cael, which, you know, might not mean anything, but it does kind of seem like an important spot? According to my human knowledge, it’s the seat of honor.
