33. Imogen

33

IMOGEN

I wake to a purring in my ear and a strange breeze tickling my nose.

Did I leave the window open last night?

I rub the crust from my eyes, blinking hard as I'm pulled from my dreams.

"Fucking gods!"

Scrambling to the headboard, with my heart nearly bursting from my chest, I gape at a creature floating mere inches from where I was sleeping. Its ears fold back against its head, the gray creature— sprite —wrings its sharp talons together, bashful.

"Hello," I say, as my heartbeat calms.

Its ears perk. Bulbous eyes stare at me, unblinking, little black voids. A single talon points to itself then to the wardrobe in the corner of the room.

"Were you the one who brought my travel case up?" I ask slowly.

It nods. Its wings flap harder, and it flies across the room to the wardrobe. With care, it pulls the doors open, and disappears inside the folds of fabric before emerging with a grip on one of the dresses I packed. It's one of the simpler ones, a green silk base with a starburst of black beading extending from the boat neckline and into beaded tassel sleeves.

Placing the dress on the edge of my bed, it points at it, then to me, squeaking a command before disappearing in a plume of shadow. A second later, it's dropping matching shoes from the wardrobe and a brush from the restroom vanity on top of the quilt.

My hand lifts to my lips to hide my smile.

" Ah ," I croon. "So, you're my alarm clock then?"

Its head, round as a baseball and about the size of one too, tilts to the side, long pointed ears twitching in turn.

It's actually quite cute.

It still hasn't blinked though.

"It's been watching you sleep for nearly a half hour," Nora says, exiting the bathroom. "It clearly likes you more than me."

"Should I be worried by that?"

"No, everyone likes you more than me. Why should it be any different with the sprites?"

Nora deftly buttons the cuffs of her button-down, fastening a silver metal cufflink to the white fabric. She's already got on her vest and slacks, both impeccably tailored and colored a deep charcoal gray, the halfway point between her skin and hair.

I throw the covers off and pad to the end of the bed; picking up the brush, I huff a laugh.

"I'll tell you this, little sprite," I coo. "I'll need more than this to be presentable for today."

Nora snorts, righting her vest.

"How long do I have?" I ask.

"We don't have to be down for another hour," Nora says.

"Oh, then why are you dressed?"

"Because I thought I'd help you with your hair, and I can't do that if I still have to do my own." Hers is already set in perfect waves, one side pulled behind her ear, revealing the pointed tip dangling with a single dew-drop earring.

"I better get a move on then." I turn to the sprite. "Will you wait outside? I'll be out as quick as a jiffy."

It pouts, taking a second to consider, but then it nods, dissipating in a swirl of shadow.

"Huh." Nora frowns at the spot where it once floated, shadows curling in its place. "I asked it to leave five times."

"I guess I have a way with words," I tease.

Padding over to Nora, I stand on my tippy-toes, planting a small kiss on her nose.

"Let me get my dress on and then you can help me wrangle these waves."

Once I've washed up and gotten my dress on, Nora takes great care in curling my hair. She uses a heated iron— who knew an ancient castle would be outfitted with electricity? —to tenderly tame my hair into waves and gently pin them into a faux bob, while I dab makeup onto my cheeks. When she's done, she places a kiss atop my head.

"Good?" she asks.

I smile at her through the mirror. "Dare I say, very good?"

" Very good? That sounds better than pretty good."

"Exactly," I say, bouncing the bottom of my hair. "Because of this, I'm expanding the good scale. It goes from not bad, to good, to pretty good, and now very good."

Nora leans into my space, face fitting perfectly, like a puzzle piece, in the crook of my neck. Our eyes meet in the mirror, both of us admiring the other with soft smiles. Her hand trails over my shoulder, running through the beaded tassels and over the exposed skin at my collar. She brushes the hair back, placing a chaste kiss at my pulse.

"What can I do to add excellent to the list?"

She knows what she's doing, using that sultry tone that never fails in pulling gooseflesh to the surface of my skin.

"I can think of something," I murmur.

"I'm sure," she says. "But I'm going to have to take a rain check, or we'll be late."

Her electric touch leaves and I let loose a growl at how she edges me with such little effort. There's something about the way her body speaks to mine that has me melting into a pile of mush in her presence.

Nora wastes no time in pulling on her suit jacket and leather gloves while I add a final dab of blush to my cheeks. And then we're ready.

We're no less than two steps out of our room when the sprite flies at us, pulling our hands into its leathery grip. We're thrust into a shadow so thick I can hardly breathe. I stumble as we emerge, catching myself on the smooth marble wall. And as quick as it appeared, the sprite is gone, leaving us at a pair of double doors deeper in the castle.

"Creepy little buggers, aren't they?" Envy says, walking up behind us with his Second trailing behind. He fiddles with the black tie under his light gray suit, straying from his typical green garb.

"I think they're quite cute," I say, righting the skirt of my dress.

"You would," he snorts, sidling up next to me. He nods at Nora. No love lost between them in the past few weeks. "Pride."

"Envy," she deadpans back at him.

He pushes past us, pausing before the pair of massive double doors the sprite left us in front of. They reach the full height of the hall, a solid fifteen feet of carved wood. His warm brown hand stills on the massive brass handles.

"So, how do we think this is going to go?" Envy asks, his tone betraying his nerves. "I've never met one of them before."

Nora pushes Envy out of the way, sending him stumbling into his Second.

"Stick with Greed and Gluttony, and you should be fine. And don't let the faerie wine convince you it'd be a good idea to add a Seelie to the notches on your bedpost," she says, pulling the heavy door open. "No one will save you from that knife at your throat."

Envy's throat makes an awkward, choked sound, a singular strong hand coming up to brush the pulse point of his neck.

Nora enters the ballroom like she owns the place, and I follow, leaving Envy to fend for himself.

I don't stray far from Nora's side, but I take my time gawking at the room. To my left, golden curtains hang in billowing waves against floor to ceiling windowpanes; they let in the sunlight of this strange spring that Casimir is stuck in.

Odd, how we're about to celebrate Winter Solstice while bathed in warmth. Should we not be sitting, cozied up around a raging fire, drinking mulled cider?

My magic springs to life as I take stock of the bodies in the room, sensing some unease, a trickle of boredom, but no fear.

The room is far too large for the scattered groupings of two to three, even with the many sprites floating between the fae with trays of drinks and food. Some are akin to the one who woke me, but others are clearly their Seelie counterparts. They buzz through the air like worker bees, their wings refracting the sunlight onto the tiled floor.

The room is divided in half, with one side hosting a cluster of Seelie and the other the Unseelie.

"Did they bring civilians too? Or are those Seelie Royals?" I ask, snagging a glass off a sprite's passing tray.

I take a tentative sip, sparkling wine mixed with sharp orange bursts on my tongue.

"Silas said celebrations here used to amass hundreds, so probably a mix of both," Nora says, pulling me towards a grazing table at the center of the room.

Leo and Josie linger there; Leo points at different pastries, plate in hand, while Josie waves us over with a look that says save me over her orange drink.

"—it's dark like blackberry jam, but it could also be blueberry. What do you think, Joze?" Leo perks up when sees us. "Hey guys."

"Leo's very intrigued by all the Seelie food," Josie informs us.

Leo piles another few pastries and some fruit onto his plate. "I am viewing this whole trip as a way to experience a new culture. And what better way to do that than with their food?"

"I wouldn't eat any of it," Nora says. Her head swivels, scanning the room with her eyes narrowed. "Could be poisoned."

"I don't think it's poisoned, Nora," he says with a mouthful of flaky, buttery goodness. "Poison doesn't taste this good."

"You think the sprites would poison us?" I ask.

Nora's lips turn down at the corners. "No. But I wouldn't put it past the Seelie. Make sure you watch your drinks around them."

"So, basically like any other normal night out," I say.

"Stakes are a little bit higher this go-around, love," Nora says, placing a protective hand on the small of my back. "Remember what happened two weeks ago."

A pit forms in my stomach, my mood instantly souring. "I'm fully aware of the stakes, Nora."

"Here." Leo shoves his plate at me. "I already took bites out of all these, so they are pre-approved, no poison?—"

The double doors at the opposite end of the ballroom burst open; the energy in the air instantly shifts as a wave of thrumming of power washes over us.

An entourage much larger than our six pairs of Sins and Seconds enters the hall: a peacocking group of men and women alike, dripping in gemstone fabrics and sparkling jewels. The gaggle of Seelie surrounds one woman, who is draped in a figure hugging, white frock. It shines like opals, reflecting rainbows as she passes under the beams of sunlight filtering through the window. A light tinkling rings through the now silent room when she moves—and I realize that the dress is made with shards of opalescent seashells.

The bodice wraps around her neck in a halter trimmed with pearl details. Her hair sits in waves of golden honey; cropped short, the edges curl around her ears and at the nape of her neck. She has a certain kind of beauty that the humans would describe as fairy-like . Her pinched features err on the side of youth and rosy, sun-kissed skin accentuates the apples of her cheeks.

Despite her small frame, which stands nearly a foot shorter than her companions, her power is great. It's familiar, this well of magic, though it is less suffocating than Silas's.

It's clear that this is the Seelie Queen.

Her entourage giggles and paws at her, stroking her bare arms as she struts towards us. One whispers in her ear, and she laughs. It rings through the hall, echoing off the vaulted ceilings.

She stops opposite us and inspects her options, tongue darting out to lick her lips, before plucking a single grape from the vine and popping it in her mouth. As she chews, her gaze lifts, meeting mine—ice-blue eyes clear as crystal freeze me where I stand.

Swallowing on a smile, she winks before turning back to her companions and flittering among the Seelie. The action reveals the open back of her dress. But where the smooth panes of shoulder blades should be, a set of wings hang down.

The thin film shimmers in a near-translucent rainbow, and like rivers on a map, white veins spread out from the midpoint between her shoulders. The wings are two-fold, the upper pair smaller than the lower, much like the insects that they mimic. The lower set drape to the ground, close, but not quite long enough to touch the tile. They curl at the end, the long tendrils twisting to a point.

"If you haven't already guessed, that's our dear Seelie Queen." I jump as Silas appears at our side. "She is a bit of a flirt, based on what I can remember. Do be careful," he warns, snagging a small cream-filled pastry from my plate and popping it into his mouth. He hums. "That's pretty good."

"Silas, darling!" The Seelie Queen's voice bellows through the room, a melodic siren's call. "Are you going to stand there all morning chit-chatting or are you going to introduce us to all the new meat?"

Silas sighs, muttering, "That's our cue."

He quickly pulls on a mask of cunning indifference, striding forward. With a casual crook of his hand above his shoulder, he pulls all six of the Sins across the room with him, while our Seconds stand back and watch on.

We line up, matching one-for-one the Seelie that step forward and bracket the queen.

"No wings?" The Seelie Queen pouts. But while her expression is animated, her blue eyes are keen, cutting across the seven of us.

"Not today," Silas says.

The queen stares at him, as if she is waiting for further explanation, of which she gets none.

That's when I notice that the Seelie Virtues all have their wings out, and although most are tucked tight and low like the queen's, some still poke out over their shoulders.

A shiver runs down my back, bracketing my spine, my own wings itching to be free.

"Maybe later, once the real festivities have begun." She winks. "I know it's all very new to the rest of you, but Solstice used to be a weeklong revelry meant to honor the first Queen."

"We may be younglings by your standards, but we are well aware of the history, Oonagh," Silas says, addressing the Seelie Queen by her given name. Trepidation trickles over the once light energy of the room. "Now, I'd like to introduce the next generation of Unseelie leaders. Over here we have Envy…"

Silas introduces us one by one, going down the line.

"…then this is Lust. Isn't she the spitting image of her mother? You must remember."

I smile and tilt my head graciously when Silas introduces me.

"And last, we have our newest Pride."

" Your Majesty ," Nora greets, red-stained lips tilting up a fraction as she dips her head in respect.

Oonagh licks her lips, eyes rolling over Nora's frame.

"The infamous soul-stealer?" the queen coos to Silas. "Maybe you'll allow her to demonstrate the magic I've heard so many rumors about."

"Did you have someone specific in mind, or are we drawing sticks?" Nora asks.

The queen laughs—her entourage following suit—and the tension in the air lessens a fraction.

"You're a funny one, Pride," Oonagh says. She claps her hands excitedly, her dress tinkling with the movement. "Now our turn. Though not much has changed since you were here last, Silas."

She starts at my end first, with the two before Nora and me, Chastity and Charity. They are clearly sisters, with matching round faces, wide noses, and full lips framed by black braids that flow in straight lines over their shoulders. Their light brown skin shines warm against the cream-colored dresses they wear. They both look bored as their queen introduces them.

Next are Temperance and Diligence, two women who must be verging on the Fading, given their salt and pepper hair. One wears it long and wavy over her pale features. The other has it cropped short with finger waves; she's how I imagine Gluttony will look in a hundred years.

And then there are the men.

Humility doesn't have any wrinkles, but his rough beard, which is cropped short to his chiseled jaw, hints at a maturity only found with age.

Benevolence is dashing—a young man whose smile shines bright against his tanned skin. His wide smile, lined with a curved mustache, gives him an innocent air, but his mossy-green eyes spark with mischief. When the queen calls him out, he waves a hello.

Patience is last, the queen's right hand. As he is introduced, his energy flares with satisfaction. Running his hand over his coifed white hair, his lips quirk into a smug smile. Deep crow's feet bracket a set of emerald eyes.

On second glance, I note the similarities between him and Benevolence at his side; they have the same roman nose, sharp cheekbones, and tall-but-lean stature. While their coloring is different, Benevolence sporting a deep tan and Patience as pale as paper, they are clearly family.

When the Seelie Queen is finished, I turn over each of their titles, reconciling them with the fae before me. They feign innocence with their titles, cloaked in their white and cream fabrics. They tease dainty dispositions with their fragile wings, but lurking under the surface of each one of their gazes is a snake waiting for its moment to strike.

"Cheers to a beautiful Solstice, Silas darling," Oonagh croons, raising her glass and then downing it all in one go. Flirtatious eyes roam across the Sins. "I hope you all will join us tonight at the bacchanalia. It's a wonderful tradition to partake."

Silas shoots her a tight-lipped smile, making her no promises of our presence at the revelry tonight, and the group breaks. Most rush to the food, ravenous as they pile their plates with breakfast. A few linger, Silas, Nora, and I stand together, a united front opposite Patience and Benevolence.

Wrath, for some reason, has disappeared.

"It's a party, isn't it? Where's the music?" Oonagh calls as she scurries off to reprimand a green, beetle-wing colored sprite for the lack of background music.

Patience clears his throat, hands digging into the pockets of his trousers.

"I have some business to tend to today, but I hope that we can catch up during the ball tomorrow, Silas."

His voice has a deep and luring timbre, the male counterpart to Queen Oonagh's siren lilt. It's the kind of voice that sucks you in, only to drown you.

"And I hope you will spare me a moment, Pride. Your reputation precedes you," Patience says.

"I can't promise I'll live up to your expectations," Nora says.

"Not many do," he says. His attention then turns to me, piercing green eyes spearing my gut. My jaw tightens under his scrutiny. A slow smile spreads across his face, revealing teeth far too straight and far too white. "And Lust, you are the spitting image of your mother."

My cheeks ache from holding my own smile in place. "That I've been told."

The five of us lapse into silence; the air grows thick as the elder Seelie studies us.

"Tomorrow then," Patience says with a quick nod. He claps Benevolence on the back. "Stay out of trouble, son."

Patience strides from the room with as much self-importance as the Seelie Queen, and when the double doors close behind him, the room breathes a sigh of relief.

"My father is a bit intense," Benevolence says. His nose scrunches with boyish charm as he palms the back of his neck. "I don't plan on doing an ounce of work until the Solstice is over. I'd love to continue our conversation from last night if you're open, Pride. You can introduce me to your Second, who I've also heard lots about."

"I hope she is less of a cautionary tale than I am in the rumor mills?" Nora asks.

"I'd say she's just as scary to the Seelie younglings." He wriggles his fingers beside his head. "Mind control and all."

Nora mutters something about mind control not being possible, meanwhile I quirk a brow at her. I'm sure that she can read my silent what the fuck?

She shakes her head. "Later," she whispers.

Silas clears his throat, leveling Nora and me with a sharp glare.

"While I'd love to continue this little hangout , Wrath and I have business to tend to before the revelry tonight. Until then, explore, mingle, fuck—so long as it's not him," Silas says, pausing to jab a thumb at Benevolence. "I don't really care. Only that you make smart choices."

Then he's off, striding through the double doors to our side of the castle.

"He always like that?" Benevolence says.

"Overbearing and rude?" I murmur.

"He's got a lot of opinions and isn't afraid to share them," Nora says, a more politically correct answer.

" Right ," Benevolence drawls. "I'm going to grab a drink and some food, but after, we can play cards in the courtyard?" The sentence trails off, the traces of hope palpable in his tone.

Nora shrugs. "Why not?"

"Great."

As Benevolence walks away, Nora places a firm hand on my waist. She leads me back to Leo and Josie, who wait patiently at a high table with a mountain of food in front of them.

"How do you already know one of them?" I whisper.

"My explorations last night led me to our new friend."

"And you want to hang out with Patience's son because … ?"

"He intrigues me."

"Nora," I huff.

"I need to know if he is as guilty as Patience is." Her hand tightens on my waist, fingers digging into my flesh. "If he is, then he's going to be joining his father in an early grave."