Page 47 of Kissed the Mark
“I would never present such a ridiculousrequest to the Unseelie Queen,” my mother said, her expressionhardening. There was a hair out of place—a gray hair, which shehadn’t had the last time I’d seen her. I noticed the signs of herage that came upon the eldest of us—she was nearing sixty now, andwould likely live for at least eighty more—in the wrinkles of herhands, elegantly wrapped in gossamer cloth that ended in a ring onher middle finger.
“I’m nearly unkillable,” Leandra said. “Yourdaughter will almost certainly die after midnight tomorrow. Thevampire queen as much as promised it.”
At this, my mother shoved an accusing fingerin Leandra’s face. “I would let her stay as long as she needs to!You’re the one that doesn’t belong.”
“Mom, please. I haven’t seen you in years.Can we start this out on a better note?”
“It’s after midnight, and you come to thecourt demanding things when you haven’t visited often at all!” Momexclaimed, but I knew the softening in her tone that meant she wasgoing to give in to a reasonable request like mine. She dusted offher immaculate uniform with her fingers and turned to the door. “Ihave a servant arranging rooms for you. In themeantime—Olympia—please give us some warning before bringing a newgirlfriend home.”
My mother was out the door in a swish ofskirts, leaving us in the wake of her ire.
“And I’m usually so good with parents,”Leandra whined, pouting.
“They’re not going to let us stay here. Wehave to come up with an alternate plan.” The parlor was toasty,warmed by a fireplace in one corner. I rubbed my hands over it,admiring the painting of tiny fairies playing in a garden over themantle.
“Do you know if the Faerie sunlight willstill eviscerate me, or do you think I can stand it?” Leandraasked, holding one hand out to the firelight. I caught myselfadmiring the webbing of her fingers, the grace with which shestretched them—and quickly looked away.
“I guess we can find out tomorrow if youstick your hand out the window.”
Leandra rolled her eyes. “Thanks. Are wegirlfriends?”
“No, we aren’t.”
“Your mom sure seemed to think so.” Shebrushed an imaginary piece of lint off the mantel. The firelightflickered against her skin in an appealing way. “Though she said‘new girlfriend,’ which makes it sound like you bring people homeall the time.”
Fire simmered in my chest. “I don’t know howyou can stand to joke when we could both be dead tomorrow.”
“Is that why you’re being short with me?”she asked, like she knew it wasn’t. “I thought millennials loveddark, inappropriately timed humor.” Leandra’s eyes twinkled withmischief.
The kitchen boy popped his head in the door,saving me from having to come up with a witty response to that. “Iset up your rooms.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
There's Only One Bed
“ROOMS” TURNED OUT TO BE misleading—as in, anantechamber, bathroom, and single bedroom. The antechamber waslifelessly, though fancily, decorated, with a few couches and acoffee table that were clearly intended to generically please anyguests; the bathroom had an enormous tub with a shower head; andthe bedroom had only one bed.
“It’s not like we haven’t shared a bedbefore,” Leandra said. “You’re not a virgin on your wedding night.Stop looking so pale.”
“I’m feeling a little unsettled,” Iadmitted. I sank into a plush chair next to the room’s bookshelf.Leandra sat on the bed and bounced a few times.
“This is so soft. What is it made of?”
“Pixie dust and clouds,” I said airily.
“Really?” she asked, pressing a tentativehand into the covers.
“No, ya dummy. It’s memory foam.”
Leandra rolled her eyes at me, but theycrinkled in the corners like she was amused. She did say that sheliked bantering with me. “Good one.” And then: “What has youunsettled?”
I still didn’t know how to put that intowords. I scanned the book titles: some more human poetry, rangingfrom epic to terrible, classic to recent. “Milk and Honey,”I read from the shelf aloud.
“I’m from France,” Leandra said.
“Sorry?” I asked. I had just read the spineofThe Lais of Marie de Franceand wasn’t sure I’d heard herright. “Did you just read my mind?”
Leandra cleared her throat. “When I washuman, I was the daughter of a French fisherman. The town beauty,if you will, or I’d like to think so. An English boy crossed thechannel and we fell in love. Married at nineteen. He cheated on mewith another English girl, even though I was hotandFrench.”
