Page 63 of The Iron Fae
I wrap my fingers around the cup, fog forming around my fingers on the chilled glass. Lifting it up to my face, I take a small breath. My nose crinkles. "Alcohol?"
"Yes," Rowan leans forward with a goofy grin. "To lighten the mood."
"Why is there so much alcohol in a church?" I say, but still lift the glass to my lips and drink a hearty size gulp. Over my cup, Lincoln makes eye contact. He lifts a single brow.
This goes far beyond the average stock for a Sunday communion.
"Aren't most religious people alcoholics?" Kai lifts his glass in salute.
"No... not if they're doing the whole church thing right." Jase cocks his head. He looks into the carbonated fluid with a high examination, ultimately tilting the glass and chugging a few mouthfuls down.
The drink lives somewhere between a wine and a whiskey, burning down my throat and warming my stomach. I hold the cup tightly between my hands.
Kai perks up. "They're here."
"How exciting." Jase beams. "You're going to wow them."
"What should I do? I haven't even gotten to ask you how I should present myself. How should I say hello?"
"What?" Jase's shoulders shake with a chuckle. Rowan's laugh echoes his. "Briar, you look wonderful. Youarewonderful. Just say 'hi' like you do when you speak to me. Don't freak out."
"I'm not. I'm not freaking out."
You look like you are. Quit sweating.Lincoln's voice echoes.
Pursing my lips, I set the glass down, and adjust my dress around my feet. Voices chime at the top of the staircase. Jase's slim hands grab my shoulders and turn me to face the door.
"Smile," he whispers in my ear.
But don't smile too much or you'll look creepy.Lincoln adds.
You're not helping.I want to spin around and give him a dark glare, but I pin myself to the spot.
"I'll get the door." Kai swings and sashays toward the door. He grips the door handle, gesturing dramatically to me as it comes open.
Couples teeter excitedly down the stairs. Fae begin swarming the room talking over one another excitedly. As their eyes land on me they run to surround me. It's only a moment before unwelcome hands are touching me, prodding me.
"Um, hello." I stutter.
A skinny woman, more limbs than anything, picks up strands of my hair. "It's like spun gold." She coos.
"Sheisendlessly beautiful." A short man, stacked with muscles gasps.
"She must be our true queen."
"She looks just like her mother."
The compliments and close examinations of me repeat as someone picks up one of my arms and spins me as if we are in a dance. While I turn, I catch Lincoln rolling his eyes.
"My name is Malacoy." One man offers his hand, his face looks painfully puckered.
"Briar." I give him my hand, narrowly dodging another woman who ducks under our arms inching closer to my face. "Can I help you?" I ask. Malacoy pushes his jacket behind him and turns my hand to kiss my palm.
The woman, with icy blonde curls pinned tightly to her scalp, touches her nose to mine. I take a step back. A perfume of what I recognize as the scent of cocoa floats around her.
"I think you are magnificent." Her sentence catches on her lisp.
"Thank you." I step back.
