rounded the hedge that partially screened the buffet from the seating area, I almost ran into Lady Chrysanthe and Lord Myron—the dark haired friend of hers who had tried applying for the position of steward, most likely at her suggestion. A few other young fae nobles were with them, but they were clearly the ringleaders.
“Queen Leila.” Lady Chrysanthe looked like she’d stepped out of a magazine advertisement with her sleek navy blue dress and heels that were one of those designer brands I didn’t know the name of because I’d die before I spent that much money on shoes when I could instead buy a latte twice a day for about a year.
“Lady Chrysanthe and Lord Myron, good evening.” I smiled slightly, following the polite protocol Skye had deeply impressed upon me. “Thank you for coming to this celebration.”
“Queen Leila,” Lord Myron said reluctantly—as if it pained him. He was a mixture of fae fashion and human history with his long hair pulled back in a braid and his patterned silvery vest and pocket watch that looked more historical than modern.
“It’s such a shame.” Lady Chrysanthe made a show of looking around the tiny inlet of the garden. “Normally the Queen of the Night Court’s first social would be in the Night Palace with all of its splendor, rather than a small and unsophisticated location.” The tilt of her lips was cruel as she smiled at me. “But perhaps it’s fitting for you. It’s a good match to you, because you aren’t a real fae.”
Lady Chrysanthe’s minions twittered with laughter and hid their smiles behind raised hands as they whispered to one another.
Skye inhaled sharply, hinting that this was a pretty low insult, which made me alter my reaction.
“I know, right? I’m so glad I’m not, too.” I rolled my eyes and gave Lady Chrysanthe and Lord Myron an off-tilt smile that I knew was more relaxed than a typical fae smile. “I wake up every morning filled with gratefulness that I’m only half fae! I imagine that’s why my life is as good as it is—or was.” I frowned. “My luck has changed a lot for the worse the past few weeks—obviously.”
Lady Chrysanthe stared at me, her hand frozen from where she’d brushed her fingers against the white chrysanthemums tucked into her hair. “Are you an idiot?” she asked.
“Nah. I just don’t care what you think. At all. Or ever.” I winked at her and raised my hands to perform a cheesy rendition of jazz hands.
Lady Chrysanthe blushed pink in her anger. “You’re going to deserve every ounce of misery you get,” she growled—don’t get too impressed. She sounded like a hissing kitten more than the angry tiger I suspect she was aiming for.
“Wow, judgy, are you?” I tapped my clutch on my hip as I made a show of looking contemplative. “Have you ever gone to therapy? Because I feel like a therapist could have a field day with all your anger issues.”
Fury flashed across Lord Myron’s face. “You dare to insult a member of fae nobility?”
Yes! This is the question I wanted!
I studied him with practiced nonchalance. “Are you saying I shouldn’t, when you tried to insult your queen?” I smiled sharply. “And note—I said tried. Because my human blood is never something I’ll be ashamed of, unlike my fae half.”
Lord Myron’s flash of fury was threatening to settle into his face, and their crowd of followers had grown quiet with their anger, but it was Lady Chrysanthe—practically shaking with anger—who spoke. “You might think you’re clever, but remember who you rule over. None of us are cowed by your attitude—it only serves to anger us more. You don’t deserve your position, nor are you capable of fulfilling it.”
“You’re right,” I agreed. “And yet, the night mares chose me over all of you. What does that say about you?”
A strangled silence settled over us—even the minions didn’t make a noise.
Lady Chrysanthe turned her back to me. “Myron, we’re going!” She marched through the crowd of her followers, rounding the hedge and rejoining the rest of the party attendees.
Lord Myron gave me a murderous look, but followed after Lady Chrysanthe and the rest of their party.
I sighed happily. “It’s fun to rile her up.”
Indigo watched the spoiled nobles leave with a speculative look.
“What is it?” I asked.
She bowed in a quick curtsey. “Nothing, Queen Leila.”
I reoriented myself, following my nose around a few bushes before I saw the heaven that was a stuffed buffet table. “It’s not nothing—you