But we all know whose arm she’ll be hanging on...if she decides to brave the questioning stares, that is.
“She’s clearly in love with him,” Marlena, head of the sirens, states around the circular table of the drawing room, as she rakes a hand through her flaming red locks. “And if she isn’t yet, she will be quite soon.”
“Oh, she is,” Beatrix confirms, grand wings sparkling behind her. “I can assure you she is. My motherly instincts are through the roof and her constant lies only confirm them.”
“Lies about?” I hedge, though I already have a clear idea based off my...findings.
I just want to hear her say it.
Beatrix flicks her familiar aquamarine gaze my way. “Her whereabouts. She rarely admits she’s off to spend the day with him, and recently, she’s been sneaking him into the house late at night.”
“She what?!” Phillipe roars, honeyed eyes flashing with instant rage. “Why haven’t you shared this with me?”
Beatrix sets a hand to the Fae Lord’s arm. “Nothing to worry about, dear. Our daughter knows better than to—”
“Sleep with him?” Marlena interjects on a chuckle. “I hate to break it to you, Beatrix, but if she’s lying about simply going off to see him, what do you think is happening when she sneaks him in? Especially if she is, in fact, in love with him as you claim.”
Tinksley’s mother doesn’t respond.
Her mouth remains ajar, but she doesn’t make a sound, eyeing the fiery siren with wide eyes. I’m not sure how she didn’t think this was a possibility prior to this moment, but beside her, Phillipe grows more enraged by the second.
As he should be, for multiple reasons.
Some of which are unbeknownst to his wife.
We exchange a look, one to which I nod right as Chief Natano chimes in, his voice even and serene as always, “Whether they’re sleeping together or not, I’d say this means the plan is right on schedule.”
Persia hums and reaches for her glass of water. “It is, but we need to get this moving again. We’ve been in phase two for too long.”
“Two years is hardly that long considering how quickly fairies age. Besides, we knew this wouldn’t be an overnight process. To execute this properly, we must have patience,” Natano counters.
“Exactly my point. Her lifespan is a concern. ”
“All in due time,” I cut in, because the plan is not what we congregated for today, and if I let it go on any longer, it’ll get out of hand rather quickly. “We’ll discuss how to move forward during our next meeting. As Natano said, we knew this wouldn’t be an overnight process nearly a decade ago and that’s not about to change any time soon. For now, let us turn our attention back to the task at hand—little N’Isabelle’s grand celebration.”
Silence.
Persia’s chocolate brown eyes meet mine at the mention of her daughter’s name, as does everyone at the table. She and the Sacred Six may be the most powerful witches on our island, but in a few short years, N’Isabelle will be able to trump them on her own, without batting a single lash. Bred from two legendary, sovereign bloodlines, the girl’s existence is well known, not only on our land, but those far, far away as well. Her magic, though not yet developed, is already a highly coveted weapon...and a massive threat. It’s no secret she’ll always be in some sort of imminent danger, and Persia realizes that, especially with N’Isabelle’s father overseas, proudly ruling over the island of Tempeste.
So the witches and all of Rosewood take great care in seeing to the little witch’s safety, myself included, and as we protect her, we celebrate her greatness, too.
But to celebrate, there must be cooperation.
“I doubt I need to say this but, everything better remain in order during the festivities.” I point my statement around the table. “Your people should know how this works by now. Civil amiability is expected. Any bad blood they may share with another should be left behind the moment they waltz through my doors, and should the slightest notion of a mutiny arise, make no mistake—I will control it for you. I can guarantee my methods will be far from fair or gentle, either.”
No one dares to counter or speak out. They simply hum in agreement, exchanging glances between one another. As appointed heads of their factions, they know better than to cross me. The power, for lack of a better word, they’ve been given is a true privilege.