Page 39 of A Lady’s Guide to Fae Kings

“He is holding a grudge,” Lachlan added drily.

“I imagine so.” Professor Fairfax was not known to be any more forgiving than Lachlan.

She sat in one of the chairs by the hearth. It was painted with tiny burning candles crowned with moths. The cushions were so comfortable that she bit back a contented sigh. She could not afford to get comfortable.

As if to remind her, she could suddenly smell sun-warmed peaches, baked apples, strawberry compote.

Lachlan gave her a silver snuffbox, engraved with a moth. She blinked at it. “I don’t take snuff.”

He half smiled. “It’s sea salt.”

“Oh.” She accepted it, feeling foolish.

“It helps with Fae magic,” he explained. “Put some on your tongue when the temptations grow too strong.”

She wondered if it helped when one was tempted by a certain Professor Thorn.

She sprinkled a few grains on her tongue, and the sting of it helped to cut through the warm peaches and the baked apples and the way the blackberries seemed to glisten, beckoning. She put more space between herself and the fruits, and though it cost some effort, it did not make her want to weep and gnash her teeth. “Thank you.”

Some Tithe she made. She could not even fight fruit.

Lachlan watched her carefully. “You’ve iron on you already, don’t you? I can sense it.”

“In my shoes,” she admitted. “And hidden in the hem of my dresses.” She had been busy between bouts of fever.

“Good,” he said approvingly, as though she had remembered some obscure fact from a lecture or written a thesis he admired. It made her want to sigh. To sway closer toward him.

She ate more salt instead.

She slept a little, which surprised her, even considering how comfortable the bed was. She had never felt such soft sheets or such a thick mattress. There had to be more Fae magic involved.

Speaking of which…

She had not woken idly. Her mind might be bleary, but there was gooseflesh rising on the back of her neck and up her arms. She tried to parse where the danger was coming from. There was no fire burning in the hearth or leaping out to eat the curtains. There was no obvious figure lurking over her bed with a knife. She was alone.

When she inhaled again, she smelled fruit, but nothing else obviously untoward. Her skin continued to tighten and prickle. She swung her legs out from under the coverlet, reaching for the salt and the iron nails tied with red ribbon on the little table by the bed. Hedgewort must have left them for her. She remembered reading that they were helpful against Fae enchantments. There was also a bowl of hazelnuts and biscuits shaped like moths.

There, just under the usual sounds of wind in the trees and the creaking of old wood and stone houses—voices? Music? She was used to the background din of the apprentice apartments, doors slamming shut, spells accidentally being set off, cats scratching to be let inside for whatever was left in the biscuit tins. But this was different; it was soft, almost as if distorted through water.

And it was none of her business.

Just because the house had seemed deserted, that did not mean it was. And if Lachlan gathered his courtiers after midnight, there was probably a very good reason why she was not invited. Naked bodies writhing on a hill came to mind.

Not that she would have minded an invitation. She would have declined, of course. But it was nice to be considered.

Clearly the upheaval of her entire life and her imminent imprisonment really had addled her wits. She should not be thinking of writhing bodies. Or Lachlan with his piercing gaze and stern, lush mouth.

She should go right back to bed, fold a pillow over her ears, and get back to sleep.

Ha.

There was fooling yourself and then there was fooling yourself.

And her skin had flushed at the sounds of the lovemaking after the Tithing, but it was not flushing now. It was still prickling painfully. As if something were not quite right. A warning.

When her moth floated through the door, Pippa took it as a sign.

If she was not getting back to sleep, she should at least investigate. She could not startle at every little thing and let fear choke her. She was going to have to contend with a magical Labyrinth. She could at least face a few empty rooms.