Page 47 of My Fae Lady

She chewed on her lip. “Well? What is it?”

“Renounce your claim on House, and I’ll show them to you.”

She snorted at that. “Not a chance.”

I’d known it was a long shot. I shook them at her again. “Come and see them for yourself. Then you can decide.”

Giselle crossed one leg over the other. Her foot, the only one that still had a slipper on it, bobbed.

She stood then suddenly. “A peek won’t hurt anything.”

“Of course it won’t,” I said.

Her hand hovered over the kerchief. “It doesn’t mean anything if I just take a quick glance. I won’t be bought this way.”

“Of course you won’t, cupcake.”

Lower lip trapped between her teeth, she plucked the kerchief away. Her lens was back out in her hand, and she circled the artifact.

“It’s Unseelie . . . Oh, definitely Unseelie,” she said, and I caught a bit of wild green sparkling brightly in her lens. A secret smile curled up the corner of her mouth. “What does it do?”

“It protects the wearer from fae tricks,” I said.

She harrumphed at that. “Then it’s too bad I wasn’t in possession of this particular set before I engaged with the likes of you.”

“The likes of me?” I raised a brow at her. “This coming from the woman who lives like a recluse. Who is more than two centuries old but has never bothered to secure her dowry on her own by seeking a love match.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

I scoffed at her. “You had no intention of ever providing me with a child. You had no intention of being with anyone at all, let alone mating with them. We are alike in that way. We don’t belong with other people.”

Giselle’s angry green eyes narrowed to dagger-like slits. “You won’t make me feel guilty for refusing to provide you with a servant! One you never even wanted in the first place!”

“And you,” I said, towering over her, “won’t ever make me feel guilty for wanting to live in my own damned house!”

I tipped my hand, letting the brass artifacts drop onto the carpet. In a huff, I attempted to storm down the hall. House had other plans, though. I was immediately thrust back into the sitting room.

The moment I reappeared, unbalanced from the unbridled use of wild magic, Giselle plopped back onto the settee. She threw her arm over her eyes with a forlorn groan I felt echoing in my soul.

We were trapped together.

Again.

Eighteen

Giselle

⊱❀⊰

“Why?”

Neither House nor Sylvan responded. I hadn’t expected an answer—if I wanted one, I’d have to find it myself. A surge of determination, and a hefty dose of curiosity, had me lowering my arm from over my eyes and digging out my lens once more. I rose and approached the hall but didn’t set foot outside the sitting room.

“Your artifact isn’t going to help,” Sylvan grumbled, taking my spot on the settee.

“It allows me to see what the magic is doing. I can’t solve the problem until I understand it.”

I lifted my lens, expecting to see the greens and blues of Unseelie and Seelie magic pulling away from each other, the tangle causing our inability to leave.