Page 40 of Crown of Roses
“And you live…here?”
“I do, indeed. Live here, work here. It’s all one and the same.” She motioned for Maeve to come over by the bed. “Now come along, let’s get you dressed.”
“I don’t understand.” But Maeve obeyed. She’d heard of ladies who had women help them change their clothing, but she’d never been privileged to such an occasion. It wasn’t that she was modest, exactly, but Deirdre seemed intent on making sure she obliged, much like a mother hen would corral her chicks. So, Maeve unhooked her corset, but kept her Aurastone within reach, just in case. She couldn’t imagine doing this daily, least of all multiple times a day. “Why are you here? In the Summer Court, that is.”
Deirdre helped lift her blouse over her head and folded it neatly. “Everyone has their own reason for being in Faeven, do they not?”
She couldn’t argue that point. “I suppose.” Maeve unbuckled her boots and peeled off her leggings. A shiver crept over her despite the balmy breeze.
“Here you are.” Deirdre lifted a gorgeous gown of creamy chiffon. The bodice was tight and heavily decorated with pearls, a beautiful kind of armor. The flowing sleeves hung low off of her shoulders, and the skirt tumbled to her ankles. Slits on both sides crawled up to the middle of her thighs, and the shoes she was expected to wear were delicate, princess-like heels.
Maeve’s mouth twisted to the side. “I’d prefer a pair of leggings.”
Deirdre laughed, a rich and warm sound. “Nonsense. You’re in Niahvess, child. In the presence of the High King of Summer, one does not wear pants.”
“I bet the men get to wear pants,” Maeve muttered.
“And are you a man?” the old woman countered.
“Well, no. But—”
“Then you wear a dress.” She helped Maeve step into the gown. “Don’t worry, most of them have pockets and places to stash valuables. What are these?”
Her keen gaze snagged on the cuffs bound to Maeve’s wrists.
“They’re bracelets. I wear them as a reminder to…make good choices,” she finished lamely, and though Deirdre arched a staunch brow, she said nothing. But it was painfully obvious she didn’t believe a word Maeve said.
“I’ll see about getting a few more casual items made for you.”
“I doubt I’ll be here that long.”
“Mmhmm.” Deirdre didn’t meet her eyes. She held out the pair of high heels. “We all say that, at one point or another.”
Maeve bristled against the woman’s cryptic words and fastened her Aurastone to her thigh.
Deirdre sighed and took a step back to admire her work, then gestured vaguely to the vanity. “Feel free to use what you’d like. Dinner is in twenty, don’t be late.” With that, she was gone, and Maeve was alone again.
She stared down at the vanity, at the intimidating amount of products meant to enhance one’s natural beauty. She considered them of little worth, having never used them. She flipped her head upside down, raked her fingers through her curls, then tossed it back up. It was wild and messy, and mostly undone, but she decided it didn’t really matter. The gown Deidre had given her would draw more attention than her face.
The pearly bodice cut low and pushed her breasts up to nearly her chin. The slits up the side revealed plenty of thigh, including the sheath where she stored her Aurastone. At least her cuffs were covered.
Maeve opened her bedroom door and walked directly into the hard wall of a broad chest.
Chapter Fourteen
Maeve stumbled back and stared up at the man—no, fae—before her.
She recognized him. Mostly. He’d been at the verandah when Tiernan rolled in with his thunderstorm. But he was the only one who hadn’t spoken. His skin was a cool, jewel-toned umber. Dark and flawless. Silver beads pierced all the way up his pointed ears, the sides of his head were shaven, and his deep brown hair was divided into small twists. He wore an emerald shirt with a popped collar and a brown leather vest embroidered with the crest of a sun and twin mountains. Two swords were fastened to his waist, his pants were sleek, and the toes of his boots were covered in sharp studs. A scowl marred his painfully handsome face and his silver eyes watched her like a hawk. He looked downright ruthless.
She glanced down the empty hall.
“I suppose you’re on guard duty?” she asked.
He didn’t respond.
“Bet you must love that,” she mumbled. “I’m Maeve Carrick. From Kells.”
She waited, but the intimidating fae said nothing.
