Total pages in book: 169
Estimated words: 156210 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 781(@200wpm)___ 625(@250wpm)___ 521(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 156210 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 781(@200wpm)___ 625(@250wpm)___ 521(@300wpm)
“That’s all right, it was a spontaneous trip,” Kyran says, sliding off the kelpie with the kind of grace I can only dream of. But he’s there to hold my hands and catch me when I make my attempt at not falling face first. Miraculously, my boots make it to the cobblestones as if I was made for riding kelpies.
On the other hand, I’m not sure now if I should bow to the witch lady.
Before I can work out my social standing, Kyran introduces me. “Luke Moor, my promised. Luke, this is Ana d’Luna, the wiser of the village. She oversees the Ardournalia celebrations and provides us all with insight into the tides of shadows even our alchemists can’t provide.”
I’m pretty sure he’s working his flattery magic here, but just knowing this is someone he cares to flatter is worthwhile information. I open my mouth and remain mute, because what should I say to someone who’s this important? Is she the equivalent of a mayor? A religious figure? The next Sailor Moon villain (going by the black crescent moon tattooed on her forehead)?
I cook under my clothes while she gestures to one of her assistants, who produces a shallow basket. The wiser reaches inside and pulls out a wreath made of vines, tiny flowers, and crisp white fishbone. As I lean in to see it in more detail, she places it on my head like a crown.
“Welcome. Your presence brings joy to our unbroken hearts.”
The square resonates with whooping, as if every single elf present has been waiting for this moment, and I seek Kyran’s hand, intimidated by all this attention.
I smile, hoping I’m not some fishbone prince now, marked as an offering to the kraken.
“Thank you,” is all I can muster, but then I remember my customer service experience, and go on. “It’s my pleasure to be here, and a privilege to be part of the Nocturne Court.”
I must have done something right because the wiser’s moon-white lips spread into a smile. “My Prince, may we speak in private?”
Kyran’s gaze darts to mine, but I don’t want to be a burden, so I offer him a smile and nod. He gives me a little kiss on the cheek and steps away, led by Wiser Ana, who touches his back as if they’re friends, not a prince and his subject.
I immediately sense the weight of too many glances, but as I turn to Crab, eager to busy myself stroking his flank with my gloved palms, someone leads him away. It leaves me deserted in the middle of the empty space between the stalls and the bonfire. I’m not usually shy, but here I’m a curiosity everyone wants to ogle, and without Kyran to lead me through situations I don’t understand, I’m a sitting duck. My gaze darts to the dancing couples, and it looks as though the renfaire has organized a bisexual party, because I spot women with men, women with women, men with men, some passing into different arms between sets of figures.
For a moment, I imagine myself and Kyran among them, him lifting me up until I feel weightless in his strong arms, and—
“Is that really him?” comes a hushed voice from under one of the trees. At first, I’m annoyed with myself for assuming that every single thing said would be about me, but then the whisper continues, drilling into my ear despite the music. “The former Lord’s companion was so handsome. I thought Prince Kyranis would have picked someone prettier.”
The fuck? Right in the fucking insecurities, huh? Why not comment on my skincare routine while they’re at it?
Torn between throwing back a snarky comment and inadequacy, I just stand there, taking my time to look everywhere but at the gossiping elves. I wanted to visit the village to find Carol, the Dark Companion, or at least work out where she lives, and I won’t be distracted by—
“The prince can always find himself a lovely spouse later,” one of the hushed voices says, yet I pick it up as if my ears are elven. “He’s so handsome, so pale, and his hair is like shadow itself. Do you think he will invite any elves from the Realm for courtship?”
“You’re so dumb. You’re a hairdresser who does mushroom brewing on the side. You don’t stand a chance with the prince.”
Maybe it’s the years spent at a boarding school from hell that make me so good at eavesdropping, but I wish I hadn’t heard that. No matter how many times Kyran tells me I’m perfect, one stupid comment is enough to send my mind spinning. I’m not ugly, but there’s many men, human or elven, prettier than me. Beauty might be in the eye of the beholder and all that, yet how long can Kyran’s enchantment with me last?
People usually date within the same level of the attractiveness scale for a reason, and Kyran is not only as handsome as a classical statue but also holds the title of prince and is literally the most eligible bachelor in this Realm. How could I ever hold his attention for more than a couple of months?