Page 133 of A Song of Air
Her stomach threatened to growl. She felt she hadn’t eaten in weeks, but she remembered Weylyn’s warning about the food at Unseelie. It would not all be edible. And she couldn’t even be sure what was safe to eat or not.
A part of her longed to reach out to Weylyn to ask for his help, but he was dealing with his own trials, possibly more dangerous than Unseelie food and drink. He was hunting with his siblings. Siblings who wanted him dead.
Bryson refused to be a distraction. She wouldn’t be the reason her only ally—hermate, she thought almost awkwardly—was hurt or killed. She had to deal with this situation on her own. She had to be strong.
Head lifted, the brownie guided her towards that table, where several others already sat around and partook in the feast before them.
At the head of the table was the queen.
Bryson could finally see her clearly.
Weylyn’s mother was as stunningly beautiful as she appeared deadly. All sharp angles like a blade, with a vicious line of a mouth painted red and gold, and long dark hair ornamented with dangling embellishments that looked like butterfly clips.
As Bryson drew closer, she saw they were actual butterflies, their wings flapping against her hair as they struggled to untangle themselves from the strands and failed. Golden powder sprinkled across her skin like rogue.
A great part of her body was exposed to the sunlight, making the coppery tinge of her skin almost sparkle. A sheer gold and black dress molded against her body, and several golden rings sparkled on her fingers, which she flicked carelessly beneath her chin.
“Ah, my dear.” She stood and gestured to a chair at her side. “Sit. Dine with me.”
Bryson neared the queen and forced herself to bow respectfully, lowering to the waist before straightening. “Your Majesty,” she greeted, though the words felt weird leaving her lips.
She hated the contempt that flashed through the queen’s gaze. She hated the way she spoke so hatefully to Weylyn. But this woman, this Unseelie, was still royalty. And Bryson was not. She had to be respectful, even if it churned her gut.
“Sit,” the queen commanded as she herself lowered to her chair. Her fingers reached for a nearby goblet and brought the rim to her lips. Her eyes flicked over Bryson as she drank greedily, and when she pulled the glass away, red Fae wine dripped from the corners of her mouth.
It looked like blood.
Bryson sat quickly where the queen had indicated. Immediately, a plate full of food was placed before her by nearby brownies. The plate was long, extended, piled high and dripping with juicy meats, fruits, breads, and cheeses.
Bryson’s stomach threatened to growl again, but among the spread, she didn’t know what was safe to eat.
She didn’t touch anything.
“What is your name, child?” the queen asked.
Bryson looked at her, weighing the question in her mind. Giving her name to the queen wouldn’t be binding. There had always been rumors to never give an Unseelie your name unless you wanted them to hold power over you. Bryson didn’t believe in that magic, but in case it were true...
“You may call me Varik.”
The queen’s eyes flashed with an anger that didn’t mirror the way her lips twitched with amusement. Bryson held her breath for a moment, waiting to see if anything would come to cutting words or blows.
“I do not see a mating mark,” the queen commented dryly.
Bryson blinked slowly, the lenses sliding down the ridge of her nose just a fraction. She pushed them back up and asked, “What?”
“A mating mark,” the queen repeated. “I do not see one on your skin.”
Bryson swallowed the sudden tightness in her throat.
“That must mean you have not yet accepted him as your mate.” Her eyes flashed again as she steepled her fingers together and rested her chin on top of them. Her following smile was almost malicious. “I know why you have not.”
Bryson’s brows rose. She had to force the words from her tight throat to answer. “And why do you think?”
“He is unworthy.” The queen set her hands down and leaned back in her chair. “You have found him lacking.”
Bryson chewed on the inside of her mouth. She let nothing show on her face, least of all the truth that the queen would find there. Because she was right. At one point, she had found Weylyn unworthy, lacking. Perhaps she hadn’t thought of it in those exact words, but she’d hated him. She hadn’t wanted him. And when he lured her in his mind to spear his cock into her, she’d hated that he’d aided in her betrayal of Everette. But to hear the queen confirm what had been lodged so deeply into Bryson’s heart made her feel like scum.
When Bryson didn’t respond, the queen chuckled. “I will tell you a secret, little blind Fae.” She reached for her goblet again and took a dainty sip. “Most, if not all, men are a disappointment.” Her delicate shoulders shrugged. “I have had many lovers in my lifetime, and the only ones worthy of note were the ones who gave me my children.”
