A guest standing nearby turned and gave Heaven a look of censure to indicate her severe disapproval of the word choice. Heaven just smiled and bowed her head gracefully like she was a courtier in a Renaissance play. The polite vocabulary enforcer seemed to accept that and moved on.
Heaven turned back to ask Song what the plaintive look was about, but she was gone. While Heaven had been posturing for a stranger who needed some business of her own to mind, Song had noticed a little fae with glasses motioning her toward an alcove. Excited by the intrigue and the idea of possibly speaking to the prince, she ducked off to the side. He placed a handwritten note in her hand surreptitiously.
Her heart was beating a little faster as she opened it and read the words, Meet me. -D. She experienced one of those rare, surreal moments when her intuition worked on herself. And she knew her life was going to be permanently divided into everything that had come before that moment and everything that happened after she'd read the note she was crushing in her gloved hand.
Concealing the note in the palm of her hand, she slipped it into her little bag then looked squarely into the face of the messenger.
"Come with me?" The verbal question mark at the end of that phrase left no doubt that it was not a command, but her choice. She nodded her assent. The time for considering was over. Her course had been set before she'd accepted the invitation to attend the prince's party.
Looking back over her shoulder to be sure no one was paying attention, she slipped away doing her best to look nonchalant and no one saw her leave. No one except a double ex vampire who had been asked to take her to the party and see to her safety while out and about in "fairyland". He had no intention of explaining to the Lady Laiken after the fact of whatever was afoot that he'd been too busy to pay attention to Song's comings and goings.
Baka set his glass on a sterling silver tray as it was carried past, excused himself from his conversation with Simon and followed Song with enough stealth to make a shadow envious.
Grieve led her down several deserted and dimly lit hallways, up a half tower of stairs then turned down a tiny curving hall that seemed to branch off and double back. He stopped next to another set of stairs leading higher.
"Down there." He pointed to the ground.
She stared at the stone steps beneath their feet. "Down where?"
"Fae Gods! You be elf!" he practically hissed.
She narrowed her eyes thinking it amazing that he had discerned that as the result of the utterance of two words. "Aye."
He stared for a moment, pressed his lips together, then shook his head. "Down. There!"
She looked closer at where he seemed to be pointing at the ground. At shin level there was an opening in the wall behind the steps. Her eyes jerked up at him. "'Tis a joke?" she hissed. "You can no' be serious! 'Tis your idea or his?"
"Have no fear, elf. You will fit. I assure you. I'm very good at spatial relationships."
"Spatial relationships," she repeated in a dry tone. "By that you would be meanin' the relationship between the flare of my hips and the width of that openin'."
He blushed a little and looked down, not meeting her eye. "Oh, aye."
"You're thinkin' I will be agreein' to acrobatics on a dusty stair? In this dress?" He continued to look at the ground, but said nothing more.
Song bent at the waist to take a closer look thinking that she could not believe she was considering it for even a millisecond. There did appear to be a room beyond the little opening, but it was too dark to make out what was in there. She looked at Grieve. "You'll be gettin' the dry cleanin' bill and 'twon't be cheap. I can promise you that."
With two fearless older brothers, Aelsong wasn't big on shrinking from challenges. She gripped her little beaded evening bag with her teeth so that she could hold onto the banister with both hands and lowered herself part way, feet first, before letting go. Her hips brushed against old stone steps as her lower body let gravity do most of the work.
She let go of the railing, expecting to drop, but squeaked in surprise when strong hands gripped her waist. She knew that scent. Duff Torquil. He chuckled, preening with male satisfaction as he slowly lowered her down the front of his body. Aelsong, who was anything but inexperienced sexually, caught her breath and decided that, fully clothed and in the near dark, it was still easily the single most erotic moment of her life.
There was just enough light in the room to see the extraordinary shine in the prince's eyes. Every cell of their bodies caught the fire of mating excitation as the ancient and mysterious magnetism did its work. He pulled her closer for a sweet and tender kiss that heated to flash boiling. Since neither of them had ever felt mating frenzy, they were both surprised by the intensity and immediacy of the passion.
Duff took hold of her shoulders and forced himself to break the kiss. Taking a step back, he managed to whisper, "H'lo beautiful," even though his breathing was uneven. "You came."
"No' yet." Ram's sister she simply couldn't let that opening slide.
She tore her eyes away long enough to look around. The room under the stairs was where the palace staff kept the royal family's collection of pewter plates, trays, goblets, tankards and pitchers. There was a large rectangular table in the middle of the room laden with gun-metal gray objects and every wall was lined with crowded shelves.
"Where are we?" she whispered.
He glanced around. "Pewter Room."
"How did you know about this?" She waved at the opening between the steps.
"I used to play hide and go seek with other kids whose parents worked here. I never lost and nobody ever figured it out. The hard part was stayin' in here by myself and bein' quiet until they gave up."
"Shows patience."