Page 15 of Golden Queen
I took her hand and squeezed it reassuringly. "I'm fine." I could tell she wanted to demand to know whose blood it was, but she wouldn't. The courtesans of the Mouse's Ear were well practiced in maintaining the secrecy of Windemerian nobles.
Raitha and Igraine rushed through the doorway, followed by two men. Barrett, a courtesan I knew, and another bulky-looking older man I'd never met.
I gave them minimal details about what we were doing, and then we left to find a dull black carriage waiting on the gravel drive behind the pleasure house.
It took less than five minutes to reach the street with the row of houses. I leaned my head out the window, peering at them carefully to ascertain which one it had been.
"That one!" I said, pointing to where a dark stain could be seen on the grass. The man in the rough, brown coat was still at the edge of the lawn. I could see the outline of his body in the shadows.
I had already explained to the men about my pursuit, so they had me wait in the carriage while they retrieved the fae man from the bushes.
The big one turned out to be Aggie, the groundskeeper. He kept a wary eye out for anyone approaching, and the handle of a very large hammer in his hand.
I watched nervously as he and Barrett pulled the fae man from the bushes and carried him to the carriage. They visibly struggled with his weight held between them, and I marveled at the fact that I’d managed to drag him so far.
The carriage rocked as they hauled him in, propping him next to me on the seat. Though his breaths seemed steady and strong, his head lolled listlessly. He didn't stir as the men climbed into the seat across from us and the carriage took off back to the Mouse's Ear.
As we bounced over the stones, I reached my hand up to steady his head, to keep it from striking the back of the carriage. I felt the same oddly pleasant sensation touching his warm skin, the same unknowable urge to linger there, to run my hands over his face, his neck, and through all that thick, dark hair.
That thought had my toes curling in my boots just a little.
I kept my hands still, though. I knew how wrong it would be to touch someone when they had no choice in the matter. Even if it was their own magic that made me want to do it—the magic of the fair folk.
It was impossible to stop my eyes, though, as they drank in the still, beautiful image of him in what looked for all the world like peaceful repose.
His clothes were finely tailored. They were black and made from what looked like very expensive materials. His coat, especially, looked like some kind of silk. The weave was so fine it was almost invisible, and the texture of it was strange under my fingers.
I caught Barrett's gaze. He waggled his perfectly sculpted brows.
I jerked my hand away from the fae man’s coat sleeve, where I had apparently been manhandling the material. I couldn't blamethaton fae magic.
"Shut up," I told Barrett with a wry grin.
"He's fae, you know," Barrett said quietly.
Aggie's eyes shot to the man in alarm.
"I know," I told Barrett. "But how did you know?"
Barrett laughed softly. "I know a fae male when I see one, Sera." He grinned suggestively. "Can't you smell the blood?"
I could, but for some reason, I didn't want to admit that to him. I didn't know why. "I only know he's fae because I put a dagger in his heart, and he is not dead."
Barrett snorted in surprise, leaning forward conspiratorially. "You have to tell me that story, young lady."
"Later," I assured him. "But suffice it to say, it was an accident." I chewed my lip anxiously.
Aggie made a low, whistling sound. He was sitting up tensely, eyeing the fae man with clear suspicion and fear. He had the fingers of one hand wrapped around the handle of the hammer on the seat beside him. "Let's hope you have time to explain that to him when he wakes up."
I didn't reply as I felt the carriage moving from the paved road to the gravel drive behind the brothel.
Anetta stood, wide-eyed, holding the door open as Aggie and Barrett carried the fae man from the carriage. She and I trailed after them as they navigated a narrow set of stairs and deposited him into a tiny room, barely more than a closet.
The brothel's doctor, a slight man with a cloud of white hair around his head, stepped into the room and closed the door behind him.
Anetta turned to me eagerly. "I hope it's alright that I called the doctor. He was already here—"
"Of course, Anetta. Thank you." I gave her a grateful smile.
