I wanted to skip dinner and read my mother's diary. Unfortunately, Arthur assured me that would be an insult to our hosts. Uncle Robert raised me better than that, so I took the wooden box and sneaked into our room with Arthur.
Well, I was the one who sneaked, really. Arthur just strode confidently through the hallway. I asked him what he'd do if someone saw the box and questioned it, and he gave me a look that conveyed how stupid he thought I was to think someone would dare question him.
"Where are the others?" I asked once we were safely behind closed doors.
"I told them to prepare themselves for dinner."
"When?" He'd been with me the entire time.
"When I was with you."
I put the box on the table near the fireplace and turned to Arthur. He walked into the closet. I went to lean against the door and watched as he picked a white dress shirt from his open suitcase and a pair of black dress pants.
"What do you mean?"
He pulled off his shirt and glanced at me, his eyes amused. "Aren't you going to look away?"
"Now why would I do that?"
He chucked his shirt aside and grinned at me. "You're usually very prude about things like this."
"What's wrong with being prude?" I asked, venturing into the closet.
"Absolutely nothing."
"Well, I am usually prudish. But I'm learning not to be with my own mate." I stopped in front of him. "Do you have a problem with that?"
"On the contrary," he said, putting his hands on my waist. "I'm very pleased."
I poked his chest. "Tell me what you meant, about telling the others."
I pulled away from him and turned to eye a new looking suitcase set on the table in the center of the closet.
Arthur sighed. "I have a... sort of a mental link with Charles and Marianno."
I turned to look at him. "What does that mean?"
"It means I am able to convey thoughts via a mental pathway between us."
I whistled. "Handy. I didn't know that."
"It's a one way street. Meaning they can't reach me. But I usually convey orders, and have a fair idea about their mental and emotional state." He rubbed his jaw. "You may be able to do that, as well. I believe you might be able to feel the links I have to my people. As our bond strengthens and you grow into your power, you might be able to link with them, as well."
I snickered. "I bet Charles would just love that."
It turned out the suitcase was courtesy of Amanda. Irene brought it along. It contained paper-wrapped garments, shoes and a makeup bag, with a note that said. "These are your armors. Wear them. P.S. I will be very disappointed if you don't. XO"
Arthur seemed amused by my sour expression as we emptied the suitcase and hung the delicate clothes in the dresser. There were a couple of dresses and a suit. The refined material and elegant cuts were impressive. I fiddled with the ring on my finger.
"Do I really have to?" I asked Arthur, who was back at putting on his clothes.
"Yes. Amanda is right, in a way. Think of them as armor. You're no longer simply a nameless fae who had once lived as a human. You're a power in your own right. It might sound shallow, but some people do judge appearances. You're a Royal, a powerful fae, and my mate. People would not forget that, but it will help if you remind them once in a while by dressing the part."
I eyed my long-sleeved shirt, pants and boots. A sword hung at my hip. Several sheaths strapped on my body. "Well, I think my current accessories convey the idea much better than the delicate dresses."
He smiled, straightening his shirt collar. He cleaned up quite well. "It is, if you're out and about. If you are attending a dinner or a ball, it is customary to respect the dress code. Unless you're a guard, being armed to the teeth usually means you are insecure."
I blew out a breath. The intricacies of Immortal polite society were illusive to my simple-minded brain. But I trusted Arthur's word and Amanda's taste. And, honestly, I actually liked the flowy dresses Amanda sent. I touched a particularly soft looking material. My fingers slid over it.
I picked up the dress. The top was sleeveless and modest, and the bottom turned out to be not a skirt, but wide-legged pants that flowed down like water. What I liked about it, other than the fact the pants had pockets, was the gradient color. The bottom was a striking blue that faded to white at the top.
I smiled. Amanda had a good eye.
Arthur leaned against the door, all dressed and ready, and watched while I maneuvered myself into the garment. I told him about my conversation with my father at the cottage.
"The vampire who attacked your mother was a guest of Rion's?"
"Yep," I said, out of breath after successfully figuring out how to stuff myself into the garment without tearing anything up. I turned my back to Arthur. "Zip me up. Do you think... maybe Rion had something to do with it?"
Arthur pulled up the zipper in silence. He was thinking. I turned, debating whether to leave my hair down or pull it out of my face, because it was easier than contemplating the possibility that my uncle murdered my mother, or at least, tried to.
"Rion is a spineless man, always has been. I don't see him pulling off something this bold. Not on his own, anyway," he said. "I'm actually more interested in the information your father has shared with you, concerning the fact he can feel other fae's use of magic."
"Not Amelia's," I reminded him.
"Not Amelia's. Which means she could be the one who put a root through your attempted murderer's heart."
At this point, Amelia's involvement would not be a surprise. But it left me with a bad taste in my mouth.
I hated this. I hated not knowing, and I hated the fact that everything so far pointed at the involvement of either my uncle or my father's consort. At this point, I would give an arm for a clue to drop out of the sky.
Arthur hugged me. "We'll figure it out."
We would. I hoped Ryan would have something useful for us.
I stepped back and eyed my arm. The sleeveless top left the gnarled scar I had acquired on the day of uncle Robert's death in clear display. Paired with the scar on my cheek, they would make me look very fetching.
Arthur put his hands on my shoulders and turned me around. We faced the full length mirror.
The dress fit me well enough, but it was a little bit long. The pants pooled at my feet; I would need heels. Strands of my hair hung limp around my face, while the rest was pulled into a lopsided ponytail. I would have to do something about it. The scar on my arm looked particularly grotesque under the closet lighting. The hairline scars I had acquired from my time with the flesh eating demon were almost gone. But the cut on my cheek from this morning stood sharply against my pale face, the thick pinkish skin jagged on the edges.
"What do you see?" Arthur asked.
I met his eyes in the mirror. He stood behind me, his hands warm on my shoulders. Looking back at my reflection, I tried seeing what other people would..
Well, I would certainly not be the most beautiful tonight, but I bet no other woman here would have as many scars as I did.
"A survivor," I said.
"Hmm." He smiled. "I see a fighter."
Beautiful. Smart. Kind. Strong.
The words flowed through the bond in Arthur's deep voice. Sincere, firm, and proud.
I turned the ring in my finger. "You forgot badass."
His smile widened, dimpling his cheek. "Indeed." He kissed my temple. "You would outpower the majority of the attendees tonight, magic wise and skill wise. Do not forget that. And do not forget who you are."
I looked at my reflection again, this time through the eyes of Arthur. My back straightened and my chin rose.
Do not forget who you are.
*** **** ***
Walking on heels should be a form of torture.
Irene looked dashing in her leather guard attire. She matched with Charles and Marianno. I envied her boot-clad feet. She must be quite comfortable. But the way Arthur kept glancing at me, and his intense emotions through the bond, made the dress and the heels worth it.
Noah was the only one beside me and Arthur who was dressed in formal clothing. The wolf had stuffed his wild into a suit for the evening. He kept tugging at the collar of his shirt.
"How is your thirst, Elle?" Marianno asked behind me.
"Pretty tolerable," I replied.
"Good."
I glanced over my shoulder at him and grinned. "I have a very competent dietician."
He chuckled.
"Amanda has impeccable taste," Arthur said as we approached the dining hall. He tugged on a strand of hair. I had decided to pull it off my face into a proper ponytail, but a few short strands always manage to escape. "The bow to your blue flames was a nice touch."
"That's Amanda, for you," I said. The blue in the garment matched my blue flames quite well. Dressing up was nice, even if it meant enduring high heels. But I would get used to them soon enough. I could perform a spinning roundhouse kick with the ease of breathing. A couple of four inch heels would not scare me.
As we turned a corner, the conversation down the hall became louder. An arched doorway loomed in front of us, two green and gold clad guards on either side of it.
I blew out a breath, feeling my insides knot. I hated being the center of attention. I hated crowds, especially if those crowds were powerful immortals who would seize any chance to stab me in the back.
How I wished I could teleport to a distant forest and be all alone for a few hours, or a few days.
Arthur took my hand and put it in the crook of his elbow. I raised my brow at him.
"You look particularly tempting tonight," he whispered. "I don't want anyone to forget whose mate you are."
I snorted, the rock in my stomach momentarily forgotten at his compliment. "I don't think anyone could."
We went through the doorway. The high ceilinged room hosted a crowd of at least fifty people. Most of them fae, but a few witches mingled with the guests.
Gilded arches and decorations rose along the white walls, shimmering under the lights of hanging chandeliers. An open archway to the side linked the room to a dining space in which a massive table was set with flowers, candelabras, plates and cutlery.
The conversation in the room instantly dimmed. Arthur moved inside. My heart hammered in harmony with our steps on the smooth floor.
"The heels are not an issue, are they?" Arthur whispered, amused despite the blank look on his face.
"They weren't an issue until now," I said through gritted teeth. Now that he made me aware of them, I felt awkward walking. "If these heels make me fall, I will stick them into your eyes."
"Mhm. So violent."
People did not pretend not to stare. I even caught a woman giving my arm a disgusted look. How delightful.
The fact that Arthur also received his fair share of interest was small consolation. Arthur's end of the bond snapped into attention. "Your majesty."
My uncle stopped in front of us, six black-clad guards hovering nearby like a dark cloud. "Lord Arthur, Elle. You look enchanting, my dear niece."
Everyone in the room seemed to tune into our conversation. "Thank you, your majesty."
The king was dressed in a black tuxedo, a red sash ran down his torso, standing out against the crisp white shirt. He was still very sparkly, from the rings and the chains. Fortunately, he did not wear the crown. It must be heavy.
"I hope you are adjusting well to Ireland."
"I am," I smile. "My father was kind enough to show me my mother's cottage today. He said you were quite close?"
Time to test the waters. Arthur had encouraged me to bring up my mother and uncle Robert as much as I could. The fae had strong mental shields, but perhaps the guilt and anxiety would make them vulnerable to Marianno's prodding.
A sad smile took over my uncle's face. "Ah, yes. I was quite fond of her. It is such a shame that things had to turn out that way."
Interesting choice of words.
"She did not have other family members, did she?" Arthur asked, patting my hand. "Elle is very curious about her mother's side of the family."
I tried my best to look forlorn and a little eager. My uncle sighed. "Not that I know of, unfortunately. She was from the south of the country. As I understood, she had lost her family when she was but a child. But I'm sure your father will have more to say about the subject. Ah!"
My uncle waved over someone. I followed his gaze. The male witch we'd met earlier today strolled through the crowd toward us. His black suit was tailored to perfection, emphasizing a fit physique and a tall frame. His shoulder length black hair was pulled neatly to the back of his head. The king's advisor. Rami.
Arthur zeroed in on Rami like a shark scenting blood. Oh, joy.
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