my head, but followed him anyway.
He was sort of right—even though I suspected the nobles would have a heart attack if they knew. But I didn’t care about my reputation, I cared about the survival of my Court.
“How’s everything with that assassin of yours?” Lord Linus asked.
“Rigel?”
“Unless you have another husband stowed somewhere, yes.”
It was even cooler inside the castle. I rolled down the sleeves of my blue shirt—which I’d pushed up for potion making. “We’re getting along a lot better than I expected.”
“He’s not being cruel to you—or doing anything weird to you?” Lord Linus asked.
I laughed. “Rigel doesn’t have the ability to do weird stuff—his conduct is too rigid. Well—except he’s got this strange obsession with his wings.”
Lord Linus stopped so fast I almost ran into his back. “He what?”
“His wings—he seems convinced I want to see them and am trying all sorts of tricks to catch a glimpse at them.” I awkwardly fidgeted as Lord Linus stared at me. “Is there something about wings that I don’t know? Because he seems really protective of them.”
Lord Linus leaned back on his heels. “I suppose that depends—what do you know about fae wings?”
“The nobles have them—and some of the lower ranked fae do, too, like the pixies. I know the nobles rarely reveal them. They only show them to those who are really important to them—which is why I was surprised Rigel seems to think I’m bent on seeing them to the point of tricking him into showing me. Wouldn’t that defeat the whole point?”
Lord Linus stared at the wall for a few moments, which was illuminated by the glowing orb he held. “In a way,” he finally said.
“Am I wrong about wings?” I asked. “I never researched them much because as a half fae I don’t have any.”
It was one of the few drawbacks to being a half fae—no wings. But besides pixies, the fae didn’t use their wings to fly so I’d never cared anyway.
Just like I hadn’t cared about fae monarchs before I was crowned because there had never been a record of a half fae monarch before, and didn’t that explode in my face?
“No—it is an expression of importance.” Lord Linus whipped around and started marching again.
“Is that all it is?” I suspiciously asked.
“More or less,” Lord Linus said. “It seems that Lord Rigel is, perhaps, extra vain about his wings—I wouldn’t worry about it.”
I narrowed my eyes at his back. “Are you sure about that? Rigel isn’t vain about anything else.”
“You seem certain on that point.”
“Yeah—because his thing is all about being deadly. I don’t think he’s even aware just how shatteringly handsome he is.”
“Oh-ho-ho! My daughter thinks her husband is handsome, does she? Will I soon be greeting my first grandchild?” Lord Linus turned up a different hallway and peered over his shoulder to waggle his eyebrows at me.
“Has anyone ever tried to explain to you just how annoying you are?” I asked.
Lord Linus laughed. “It is the duty of a parent to annoy and embarrass their child—it’s good for their soul.”
He just very successfully got us off the topic of wings. Is there something he’s not telling me about them? Or is it just that he is that much of an idiot?
The subject of wings had come up once with Skye, and she hadn’t given me any additional information, which probably meant there wasn’t more to it—at least that she knew of—and Lord Linus really was just an idiot.
But maybe I should look into the topic. Skye is half human half fae, she might have never learned much about it anyway. Yeah, I’ll research it—after I master barriers, figure out if there’s something wrong with me or my artifact, quell whoever is trying to kill me, and get the other Courts to play nice.
Ugh. I felt tired just thinking about my to-do list.
“We can take a short cut through here!” Lord Linus chirped.
He’d led us to the chamber that held the original king’s artifacts, and all the other extra special Court items that Skye had shown me.
He strutted past the displays, then paused, and circled back. “Actually, here. Touch the original king’s staff.”
“Are you insane? I’m not touching that!”
“Why? It’s not like it’s going to zap you—see?” Lord Linus reached over the velvet rope that cornered off the display and touched the original king’s crescent moon topped staff.
“Stop it,” I snapped. “Skye would guzzle an entire bottle of antacid if she knew you were touching it.”
“It’s not like the original king cares,”