Page 72 of Fawn

The young guard, Gideon, is waiting outside and bows, seeing us exit.

“All is ready, my lady,” he says. He doesn’t look our way and keeps his eyes on the floor.

“Thank you, Gideon,” Estelle says. “I would like you to accompany us. We can’t have anything happening to Seven’s ward.”

“Of course, my lady.” He performs another gallant bow before sweeping his arm out, indicating us to precede him.

With the sisters on either side of me, we sweep down the corridor, servants and nobles making way and bowing as we pass. It is very disconcerting, and it is a relief when we arrive at the quarters, Persa explains, belong to her and her mates.

Gideon strides ahead of us to open the double-entry doors. He bows formally as we pass and then closes the door.

The quarters are not quite as grand as Seven’s but every bit as beautiful. There are already servants inside. A table is set on the balcony with all manner of treats, tiered cake stands, and formal settings for three people.

The servants quietly leave while Gideon stands attentively beside the balcony doors.

“We heard you had an unpleasant encounter,” Estelle begins, guiding me toward a seat.

“With Marigold,” Persa completes, her nose turning up in the air as she offers me a seat with spectacular views across the city. She sits to my left. “We do not like Marigold well.”

“The doe is presumptuous,” Estelle agrees, taking a seat to my right, where she lifts the teapot. “Fawn?”

“Oh, yes, please.” I slide my cup and saucer closer so she can fill it.

I add a little honey and stir it as the sisters prepare their tea.

“She has had her eye on Seven for a while,” Persa continues, offering me a plate of sweets. “But he never favored her. Not once.”

I take one with thanks and pop it in my mouth, groaning as the rich, creamy taste explodes across my tongue.

“Good, hmm?” Estelle says with an approving nod. “Try one of the lemon tarts. Or perhaps the scone with jam and cream?”

I take a lemon tart from the tiered arrangement and put it on my plate.

“She will be extra witchy now that you have arrived,” Persa says, selecting a small slice of cake for herself. “But if she suffers, it will serve her right for being so rude.” She suddenly beams at me. “I already know that we shall be friends. When is your season due? Oh, I do hope there shall be some babies.” She puts her hand against her round belly. “It would be nice for my daughter or son to have a playmate. I have two more children, Pipa, three, and Galan, five, but they are a handful, and I thought it best to acquaint you with them in stages.”

“I… I have never had a season,” I admit.

“You haven’t?” Estelle says, frowning, as she lowers her teacup to the saucer. “But now that I think about it, that would make sense. I’m sure I read about something similar.”

Persa smirks. “So did I.”

Estelle shakes her head, her smile wry. “If you are talking about those spicy romance books you devour, they are hardly a source of credible facts.”

“It was a tale about a doe living secretly in a human village. She never had a season until a stag patrol came through. Their scent triggered her.” Persa grins. “The patrol had no choice but to tend her.”

“And how many were in the stag patrol?” Estelle asks with an arched brow.

“A dozen,” Persa says, fanning herself and winking at me.

Gideon makes a weak, strangling sound—I had forgotten he was standing to attention beside the open balcony doors, listening to everything we say.

“It was a scandalous tale,” Persa says. “And I enjoyed it well. You can borrow it if you like.”

“Thank you!” I squeak. I don’t want to offend her kind gesture in sharing what is clearly a cherished book, but I am also confident my libido does not need further stimulation.

“I will ensure you get it before you leave.”

The rest of the afternoon passes pleasantly. I learn that Persa has three mates: a high-ranking noble, a doctor, and an artist of some renown. Estelle, while older, has yet to choose a mate, although several suitors are mentioned.

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