Brea managed to sneak back into her room without notice well before anyone else had arisen after such a late night of festivities.
“Good, you’re up early.” Neeve’s shoulders relaxed when she stepped into the room.
“And that’s a source of relief for you?” Brea liked to tease her maid. It loosened her up so she acted like a normal person.
“Normally, you’re like trying to wake the dead, and then you’re an ill-tempered child until I get some tea in you.”
“If you could just send someone out for coffee, we wouldn’t have this problem.” Brea would give anything for a decent caffeine boost.
“If you could tell me what coffee looks like, it would be much easier to find it.” Neeve bustled about the room readying Brea’s clothes for the day.
“It’s heaven in a cup.” Brea threw her head back against her pillow and stretched.
“That still doesn’t tell me what it looks or tastes like.” Neeve set a stack of fabric at the foot of Brea’s bed.
“It’s dark like coffee, it tastes like coffee, and it smells like coffee.” Brea groaned as she moved to sit on the edge of the bed. “What’s this?” She eyed the soft looking fabric Neeve brought with her.
“A few Beltaine gifts for you. I don’t know what yoga pants and t-shirts are, but you seem to prefer men’s clothing and soft things so I had these made for you.”
Brea snatched the pile of fuzzy woolen clothes and squealed in delight. The pants were very yoga-like leggings, and the shirt was a long tunic in a dark blue fabric. A belt, a pair of sturdy trousers, and a jacket completed the ensemble. There was even a descent attempt at duplicating the sports bra she’d worn when she arrived at the cottage with Griff. “This is perfect, Neeve, thank you!” She gave the tiny woman a hug. “I’m sorry, I didn’t get you anything.”
“And you shouldn’t.” She gently shoved Brea back down on the bed. “It wouldn’t be proper.”
“Proper-schmoper.”
“You say the silliest things.” Neeve shook her head, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.
“At least I seem to be entertaining everyone. So what’s on my agenda today?”
“Brunch with the queen.”
“Is she mad?” Brea winced. She didn’t mention she’d just eaten in Griff’s room.
“Mad? Why on earth would she be upset with you?”
“For taking a dive with a delegate in the fountain?”
Neeve stood with her back turned, brushing imaginary wrinkles from Brea’s dress for the day. Her shoulders shook with silent laughter.
“It’s okay, you can laugh it up.” Brea rolled her eyes. “It was pretty epic.”
“Only you could manage to fall into a fountain at the queen’s Beltaine festival.” Neeve’s laughter was infectious.
Brea shrugged. “Like I said, at least I’m entertaining.”
“Better get ready, Brea. The queen will expect you soon.” Neeve offered her a stack of fresh undergarments and shooed her behind the screen in the corner of the room. Brea had insisted she could at least put her own undergarments on without assistance. It was a compromise Neeve finally agreed with.
“Is this a fancy brunch with all the delegates?”
“Just you and the queen.”
Brea breathed a sigh of relief. She loved her aunt and looked forward to the times they spent together. It was when other people were involved that she tended to stress out.
“Good morning, dear.” The queen was all smiles today. Not a hint of a hangover or lack of sleep marred her beautiful face. She’d never seen her aunt not dressed like the fae Marie Antionette. Regan really liked to wear pink.
“Good morning, Aunt Regan.” Brea bobbed a quick curtsy before she took her seat opposite the queen. “You’re looking lovely this morning.”
“Too much wine last night, darling. Far too much wine.” Her laughter echoed across the terrace where they normally had their afternoon tea.
“Tell me about it.” Brea winced.
“I just did.” The queen blinked in confusion.
“Oh, that just means I’m commiserating with you.” Brea laughed. “Way too much wine. But last night was wonderful.”
“Was it amazeballs?” Regan leaned forward in earnest.
Brea thought about the late night spent with Griff in his rooms. “It was definitely amazeballs. But I’m so sorry about the incident with the fountain.” Her face flushed with fresh humiliation.
Regan’s laughter sounded like bells. “I’m just glad you’re okay, dear. Don’t ever apologize for your clumsy behavior. It’s endearing. Don’t change on my account.”
“Thank you, Aunt Regan.” That might have been the first time a family member ever told her to just be herself. Without thinking, Brea stood and approached the queen.
“What’s this, my darling?” The queen’s sweet face stared up at Brea just before she wrapped her arms around her aunt.
“Thank you, auntie.”
“For what, sweet girl?” Regan awkwardly patted Brea on the back.
Brea wondered how long it had been since anyone hugged Regan. “For loving me just as I am.”
“What’s not to love?” Regan took Brea’s hands in hers. “We have much to discuss this morning.”
“Shoot.” Brea returned to her seat only to realize she’d said something confusing again. “Sorry, it seems we need a translator.” Brea laughed. “That just means, go on, I’m listening.”
“All right then, I’ll shoot.”
Brea stifled a giggle behind her hand.
“I said it wrong, didn’t I? Oh well, we have plenty of time for human silliness later. Did you ever wonder why I brought you here, Brea? I mean besides the obvious that I wanted to meet my only niece.”
“Of course, I wondered.” Brea nodded for Neeve to stop hovering and pour her tea.
“Some of my nobles thought I intended to make you my heir so they feared your arrival. I would claim you as my own if not for your human side. I love you dearly, child, but Fargelsi needs a strong fae ruler when I am gone.”
“I understand,” Brea rushed to say. There was nothing she wanted less than to be Regan’s heir to the throne. “It wouldn’t do for a half-human-half-fae klutz to take your place.”
“I’m so glad you see it that way too.” Regan gave a curt nod to Neeve to finish serving their brunch. “Before all of this uncertainty about what your arrival might mean, the Fargelsi court feared I would make Griffin my heir, which has always been my greatest desire. I’ve raised him as my own, and a more loyal son couldn’t possibly exist. But he is an Iskalt prince, and many would like to see him return to his uncle, the king.”
“So, it would be dangerous for him if you publicly named him your heir?”
“It would. Unless…” Regan paused to sip her tea. “Unless he was betrothed to a Gelsian royal.”
Brea’s mouth went dry. Her aunt couldn’t possibly be thinking about marrying her off like some kind of pawn on a chessboard? “What now?” Brea squeaked.
“You and Griff fancy each other, do you not?” Regan asked bluntly. “I saw your flirtations last night. You suit each other quite well.”
“Um, well. I… um…”
Neeve saved her by sliding a plate with a slice of quiche and a side of fruit drizzled in caramel sauce in front of her. The caramel sauce danced on her plate like magic until it formed the words ‘everything she says is a lie.’ Brea choked on her tea as the caramel sauce blurred and the words disappeared. She glanced at Neeve, taking a moment to breathe.
Neeve’s grave look was warning enough. Brea needed to tread carefully here. But could her aunt really be lying to her? She’d gone to great lengths to make Brea feel welcomed and loved. She couldn’t imagine any of that was fake.
“I do. Um. Like him, that is. Griff is a charming young man. Whom I just met and we’re, ah… still getting to know each other.”
“Strong marriages have been built on far less.” Aunt Regan nibbled on her quiche like she hadn’t just scared the pants off her niece. “We will announce your betrothal to Griffin in a fortnight. After your marriage the following month, I will name Griffin heir in the event of my death. Any children of yours shall become my blood heirs. They will continue my line. This way you will be a queen of Fargelsi one day. That would make me very proud.”
“Children? Queen? A month?” Brea sputtered. She was about to tell the queen she was a lunatic when Neeve interjected.
“Perhaps Lady Brea needs some time to think, your Majesty?”
“She has time.”
“May I remind your Majesty, she has also grown up in the human world where these things are quite different. By their standards Lady Brea is still a child who wouldn’t be ready for marriage for several more years.”
“Is that so?” The queen frowned. “This proposal seems strange to you, dear?”
Brea only nodded. She couldn’t get the words out that the queen was off her rocker if she thought she was going to marry a cute boy she just met.
“Too fast.” Brea finally managed to string two words together.
“Yes, that’s right,” Neeve continued. “Even adult humans much older than Lady Brea will court a young woman for a year or more before proposing marriage.”
“I see. I suppose we could announce the betrothal in a month, and then give her a few more months to prepare for the big day. How does that sound, my darling girl?”
It sounded like it was time for Brea to get the hell out of Fargelsi.
Back in her room, Brea clawed at her clothes. She couldn’t breathe under so many layers. “Get this thing off of me.”
Neeve worked quickly to remove her dress and unlaced her corset with nimble fingers. “Just breathe, Brea. It will be okay. Lord Griffin is a good man.”
“Yep, yeah, he’s a great guy.” Brea gulped air into her lungs, kicking the dress across the room. “I just don’t want to marry him when I’m not even old enough to buy beer without a fake ID.”
The other shoe had just dropped, and it crushed Brea.
“Was any of it real?” she asked, fanning herself. “I need air.” She stumbled for the balcony.
“Brea, you can’t go out there in your under clothes.” Neeve rushed to wrap a silk robe around her. Brea let Neeve fuss about her clothes as she breathed in the lavender-scented air.
“I knew it was all too good to be true.” They just wanted her for her bloodline so they could make Griff a king. Did he even care for her at all? Was his top ten things I love about Brea Robinson just a line she’d fallen for like the stupid girl she was?
For that matter, did she mean anything to Regan but a means to an end? Tears burned her eyes. She’d cried more tears in her lifetime than was remotely fair. After years of believing she was insane, she finally found where she belonged, and that was a lie too.
“It’s all a lie. Just like you said.”
“What, my Lady?” Neeve patted her back.
“In the caramel sauce. You said it was all a lie.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Neeve’s hesitant smile stopped her tears. “It’s treason to spell out dire warnings in caramel sauce.”
“He said I could trust you.”
“You can, Brea. Of that, you should never doubt.”
“I have to talk to Griff before I do anything stupid.” Like trust something Lochlan O’Shea said. “I have to know if Griff had any part in this.”