A Discovery of Secrets and Fate (Chronicles of the Stone Veil #2) - Sawyer Bennett Page 0,82

it’s worn in buns on top of their heads so as not to interfere with the tiny wings beating at their back.

They look sweet and harmless, yet one buzzed by my ear and called out, “Nasty human”.

I was crushed, and I think Peter Pan and Tinker Bell are forever ruined for me.

It was a learning experience for me. I’ve had that sweet fizzy feeling with every Light Fae that passed me, but I’ve learned that doesn’t make them good or nice in the slightest. Luckily, I was able to start ignoring the sensation, pushing it to the back of my mind. As Zaid had made clear, just because fae are deemed light doesn’t make them good.

The human-looking fae who are regular sized run the gamut. Pretty to stunning for the women and handsome to gorgeous for the men. Zaid had told me that not all Light Fae are beautiful, just as all Dark Fae are not ugly. However, outside of the grumpy gnome, I feel like we’ve walked into fashion week in Milan.

Everyone is perfectly proportioned and beautiful in unique ways. What I find to be most fascinating though is the style of dress. I had no clue what to expect. Would they be wearing clothes that resembled modern earth?

When I saw the medieval architecture of the castle, I thought perhaps they would be old fashioned with women in gowns and men in breeches, stockings, and waistcoats. Instead, the fashion—at least on the females—is modern and outlandish all at the same time. The females wear dresses for the most part, but they absolutely look like some of the bizarre couture outfits seen on models walking the high-fashion runways.

“I feel like we’re walking into the Hunger Games Capital,” I muttered to Carrick, but he didn’t respond.

We pass one woman in a peach dress that is nothing but layer upon layers of foamy-looking ruffles that practically swirl around her. Across her bodice, over her shoulders, and around her back to make sort of a halo hood around her head and then back down to her knees. Truly, I can only see her face peeking out, which is done in precise yet bold makeup. Below her knees, she wears some type of hosiery that is studded with peach-colored gemstones. Her stride is effortless in platform heels that must be six inches in height.

I can’t help but look over my shoulder as she passes by so I can see the back of that concoction she’s wearing, but I promptly run into something big, hard, and immobile.

Bouncing backward, I turn to see what I hit, an apology already on my lips. It dies as soon as I spot a massive fae dressed in black leather pants, solid boots that are meant to crush ribs, and a black leather vest. His hair is long and black, and his eyes are, too. Not even any white showing.

He growls at me, reaching one arm behind his back. To my dismay, he pulls out a double-sided ax that must have been holstered there.

“Human,” he snarls. How I don’t pee my pants is beyond me. I’m stunned and frozen, and it never occurs to me to pull out my whip or dagger.

Luckily, Carrick is there, placing himself right in front of me. The fae has a good five inches on Carrick. I’m betting he also has double the arm and leg circumference. He has muscles growing on top of muscles.

The man’s eyes light on Carrick, and he immediately takes a wary step back. I can’t see Carrick’s expression, and I have to peek around him to the left to see the fae, who is lowering his weapon to point to the ground.

“This woman is under my protection,” Carrick announces, not just to the brute of a fae who I know without a doubt would have sliced me in half without an ounce of regret, but loud enough that any fae walking or flying by can hear. “An insult to her is an insult to me. An affront to her is an affront to me. I suggest you pass this word along as I don’t relish spilling your black blood in the queen’s home.”

The fae starts walking backward, almost tripping over a gnome, before pivoting away and melting into the crowd.

“Damn,” I drawl in appreciation. “You have some major clout here.”

“Or I just talk a big game,” Carrick suggests drolly.

Perhaps to avoid this again, he ends up taking my hand in his. He urges me to walk close to his side