Reluctantly Cristina followed as they pushed swiftly through the crowd. The air was full of sweet, harsh smoke, mixing with the mist from the occasional pool of water.
“Prince Kieran.” A faerie woman with hair like a dandelion clock drifted up to them. She wore a dress of white filaments, and her eyes were green as stems. “You come to us in disguise.”
Mark’s hand had gone to his weapons belt, but Kieran made a quick settling gesture at him. “I can trust you to keep my secret, can I not?”
“If you tell me why an Unseelie Prince would come hidden to his own brother’s revel, perhaps,” said the woman, her green eyes keen.
“I seek a friend,” Kieran said.
The woman’s eyes darted over Cristina and then Mark. Her mouth widened into a smile. “You seem to have several.”
“That’s enough,” said Mark. “The prince would proceed unhindered.”
“Now, if it were a love potion you sought, you might come to me,” said the faerie woman, ignoring Mark. “But which of these two Nephilim do you love? And which loves you?”
Kieran raised a warning hand. “Enough.”
“Ah, I see, I see.” Cristina wondered what it was she saw. “No love potion could assist with this.” Her eyes danced.
“Enough, I said!” Kieran flushed. “What would it take to end this bedevilment?” |
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