Geneviève Crowe.” He took a bandage from the bag and pressed it to his arm. “I would shed every drop for your safety, your health, your happiness.”
“Eli . . .”
He held out the glass of blood and whisky. “The fae date with eternity in our minds, dearest. Everything I am is yours, including my body inside and out.”
I took the glass with a shaking hand, and he lifted his blood-free drink.
“To eternity,” he said.
I clinked my glass to his and echoed, “To eternity.”
~ 11 ~
After Eli’s blood gift, there was nothing to do but behave as I hoped would win the favor of the fae. His blood and his words made his seriousness exceptionally clear. No person could ask for a better partner than Eli. I didn’t deserve him, and I never would. Of that, I was sure—but I was damn sure that I would do my absolute best to try to be an asset as we stepped into Elphame a few days later.
We were arriving an hour before the Yule Ball. He was no more interested in a longer stay than I was. Eli was subtle about it, but he’d made clear when we were here the first time that he had no desire to assume the throne. Eli liked my world, our world. Maybe he wouldn’t always feel that way, but right now, he was opposed to becoming a king.
Luckily, the king was young enough that we weren’t yet at that crossroads.
When we arrived, we were greeted by a contingent of royals and the king himself. I still didn’t know what to call him. The fae were not free with their names. Maiden, lady, lord, or a false name were often used. I knew that.
They, of course, knew my name. I’d given it freely as a sign of trust.
The royals that met us, exactly six lords and six ladies as well as five guards, were spanned out from the king in a formation that would allow weapons. I smiled at that. The thought of training with fae warriors was more tempting than any ball could be.
“Welcome, Geneviève of Crowe.” The king looked at me with an implacable expression.
But I felt the others judge me, eyes lingering on the Renaissance-meets-function dress I wore. Soft blue with silver-shot designs, it was as festive as I ever was.
The king, to his credit, made note of the colors and knew enough about me to say, “We are honored that you would join us during the festival of Chanukah. Chag Urim Sameach.”
I could tell that he’d practiced his words, and it made me feel a little warmer.
“Blessed Yule, and Chag Urim Sameach,” I said with a deep curtsey.
And yes, I’d practiced that. I had never in my life curtsied before, but if I bowed, the faery king and his entourage were going to be staring into my cleavage. That seemed a bit awkward, so curtsey it was.
The king, to his credit, didn’t comment on my willingness to observe protocol. I gave him a genuine smile when I straightened. The ruler of Elphame was striking and raw in his beauty, more warrior in appearance than nobility. He was draped in a white-fur-lined cloak, and a simple circlet of silver with green gems sat atop his hair. He did not look any older than Eli, but that could mean he was anywhere from forty to four hundred.
There was no queen at his side.
I realized then that he’d never wed. Faeries’ lifelines were bound together, so by staying unwed, the king had not risked dying because his partner did. It said something about his priorities and independence. In this, he and his brother—Eli’s father—were very dissimilar. It was also a thing I understood.
Eli offered me his arm, and we walked to the king’s side, and without a word, we walked in a procession from the gateway to an open field. There under the boughs of a beautiful oak tree, the fae king went to his throne. It looked as if the earth herself had crafted the chair.
Beside the throne was a silver menorah. There, in Elphame, the king of the fae motioned me forward.
“I do not find it is my place to say the words you’d need,” he said. “Light your candles, and know that you are welcome here, Geneviève of Crowe.”
I whispered my prayers, and I lit the candles.
Then, the king walked to that stone and wood throne.
Eli took my hand. He led me to the exact center of the field, knelt to remove my