Page 66 of A Lady’s Guide to Fae Kings

Chapter Seventeen

Every time Pippa thought she might be getting a handle on her life, something proved her extraordinarily wrong.

Finding a naked Fae king in her library.

Being dismissed from the Library.

Making a wish and becoming a Tithe.

Abduction. An oubliette. The Red Ladies.

A wedding.

She perhaps ought to take a good, hard look at some of her choices. Clearly she had gone astray somewhere.

“You’re thinking very hard,” Lachlan remarked, not at all like a king who had just married her and threatened the Winter Courts, all cold nonchalance. And had blood on his boots.

He led her outside when she flinched at the weight of so many gazes on her, her moth fluttering in agitation. She could still hear the Redcap weeping for mercy, the sounds of hooves and howling and ghostly laughter as he was chased from the hall. The music had poured in almost immediately to fill the silence. The dancing was even more wild, the wine more intoxicating. There were too many smiles, too many sharp teeth, too many hands reaching for her. Well, one hand, from a Fae courtier eager to make her acquaintance.

He was still being chased by owls.

After that, the guests leapt out of their way as Lachlan’s warriors marched through them. Frost slicked the floor under feet that did not move quickly enough for Lachlan’s liking.

The gardens were quieter. Pippa could almost hear herself thinking, which, she decided, was unfortunately not the improvement she had hoped it would be. There were simply too many thoughts twisting and catching like thistles.

“Breathe,” Lachlan urged. “And have a pinch of salt, wisp.”

She took the salt because her only other idea involved hiding under the bed. She missed the sweetness of the peach on her tongue, but her mind felt less snarled.

“Better?” he asked.

She gave him an incredulous gaze, pushing her mask up into her hair. The moths hovered. “Better? In the space of a quarter of an hour, I ate a peach, we are suddenly married, and a goblin was nearly murdered at my feet. Does that about sum it up?”

“Take more salt.”

“No.” There was no amount of salt that would fix this. She could drink the entire ocean dry.

“In that case”—Lachlan nodded to the red-haired warrior—“this is Ruadhan, my second. He’ll defend you with his life, but believe nothing else he says.”

“Hurtful,” Ruadhan returned. Someone in his ancestry must have had giant’s blood. His muscles were the size of her head. His hair and beard were dark auburn, knotted with gold beads.

“It’s also true,” Lachlan said.

“Bah.” Ruadhan winked at Pippa. “Well met, my queen.”

She blinked at him. “I’m a Librarian.”

“I reckon you’re both now.”

She was both and she was neither.

“And this is Arcadia. My sister,” Lachlan added before she could get herself further muddled in her own head.

Pippa was momentarily distracted by that. “I didn’t know you had a sister.”

Arcadia was tall and dark-haired and violet-eyed. The family resemblance was clear. She also had the same dry smile, secret and thorny. “He’s so sentimental that way. Positively maudlin.” She bobbed a sarcastic curtsy at her brother. “Your Majesty.” She wore a black gown sewn with real blackthorn flowers and many, many knives. A necklace of silver-tipped thorns was a threat and a warning at her throat. She was barefoot. “The Redcap didn’t say much. He’s under a binding spell, as expected.”

“A bloody strong one,” Ruadhan added.