I glanced over at Nathaniel. His face had turned brick red with annoyance. I wanted to tell him that J.B. and I weren’t flirting—it only looked that way. But then I remembered that I didn’t want to marry him anyway. I don’t know why I kept having these concerns for his feelings. I didn’t want to think that Nathaniel might be growing on me, especially when he hadn’t even said anything nice about my outfit.
J.B. kept his arm around my shoulders, but I resisted the urge to sink back and relax. I had too many things to worry about, and most of all I missed Gabriel. He had only been a part of my life for a few months, but nothing seemed right without him. And I hated to think of him being harmed and unable to defend himself.
I looked out the window and let my thoughts drift—Amarantha, Lucifer, the wolves, Samiel, Focalor, Antares. So many players, so many pieces on the chessboard. The question was—was I pawn or player? I wasn’t sure yet. I wasn’t even sure what Lucifer wanted me to negotiate with Amarantha. He’d said he wanted to reestablish relations, but once I did that what else was I supposed to do? I wasn’t privy to Lucifer’s needs and wants, and I wasn’t sure if furthering his agenda was the best thing for the world in any case.
After a while my eyes closed of their own volition. I don’t know how long I slept, but when I opened my eyes again I was curled into J.B.’s chest and it was dark outside. I looked sleepily up and saw that J.B. had a very satisfied smile on his face. Beezle was coiled into a sleeping ball on the other side of the seat from him. Nathaniel stared out the window, his face frozen.
I pushed away from J.B. and stretched. “How much farther?”
“You actually woke up just in time,” he said. “If you look out the window, you can see the castle as we approach.”
“The castle,” I said. I don’t know why I thought that Amarantha would live in an ordinary house. My own father lived in a rather palatial home.
But when I glanced out the window I saw that Amarantha lived in a real, honest-to-goodness faerie castle, with high towers, winding turrets, catwalks—the works. The whole thing was about the size of five or six city blocks, and it was surrounded by a genuine moat. As we approached the castle, a drawbridge came down to allow us access into the courtyard.
“Grog and meat, anyone?” I muttered. I noticed that several faeries carrying bows and dressed like the warriors we had met in the woods patrolled the catwalks. Apparently these were Amarantha’s soldiers. I wondered why she felt she needed them when her forest was full of freaky things that ate intruders. Was her kingdom that threatened, or was she just that paranoid?
The limousine pulled to a stop in front of a huge arched doorway. Tyree shut off the car and stepped around to open the door for us.
“Remember,” J.B. said. “The court follows very strict rules. Do not show any disrespect to the queen.”
“And do not treat the servants as your equals,” Nathaniel said.
“And don’t eat or drink anything that’s offered, but refuse it politely,” Beezle reminded me.
“And also . . .” J.B. began.
“I don’t need three babysitters,” I said. “I know to be careful.”
“But you don’t know when to stop running at the mouth,” Beezle said.
“Look who raised me,” I said pointedly.
“What are you trying to say?” Beezle said, looking offended.
I rolled my eyes and stepped out of the car behind the others. Beezle fluttered down to my shoulder and landed with a grunt. I decided to start practicing my tongue biting now and withheld the comment about his weight. Best to begin as I meant to go on.
J.B. led the way to the front door. Before we reached it, the door swung open wide without a sound. A glitteringly perfect faerie stood there with a fake smile of welcome on her face, and suddenly I understood why Nathaniel had said I was underdressed.
She was about five foot ten with the body of a lingerie model, and she wore a floor-length purple silk gown that clung to every curve on the way down. Her blond hair was piled artfully on her head and she wore jewels everywhere they could be worn. She held her hands out to J.B.
“My prince,” the faerie said, and of course she had a breathy, Kathleen Turner–type voice on top of that body that screamed sex.
“Lady Violet,” he replied, kissing her fingers.
I felt a weird little flutter, almost like jealousy, but I decided that couldn’t be it. I did want to ask J.B. when he had suddenly turned into Rico Suave, but the skinny bitch clinging to his arm gestured for us to join them.
“Ambassador Black, I am Lady Violet, the queen’s right hand,” she purred, giving me the once-over and finding me not worth her time. “My queen is awaiting your arrival in her court. Lord Nathaniel ap Zerachiel, you also are welcome as a member of Ambassador Black’s party. And who . . . is this?”
Violet couldn’t keep her nose from wrinkling in distaste as she looked at Beezle, still perched on my shoulder.
“This is my gargoyle, Beezle,” I said.
“A gargoyle. How . . . quaint.”
“I’m assuming he’s as welcome as everyone else in my party,” I said pointedly.
J.B. widened his eyes at me, but I wasn’t going to let her or anyone be rude to Beezle. And really—I was a princess, not just an ambassador. I outranked her, and from everything J.B. and Beezle had told me, rank was everything with these faeries. Best to remind her of that.
Violet’s face had reddened slightly at my rebuke and she flashed me a venomous look before she had a chance to hide it under the smooth mask of welcome. Oh, well. I didn’t think we were going to be BFFs anyway.
“Of course. You are welcome to Queen Amarantha’s court . . . Beezle.”
Beezle gave her a regal nod from his perch, like he was a king deigning to acknowledge a peasant. High color flared in Violet’s cheeks. I wanted to give him a high five but that seemed like it would be bad form.
I felt rather than heard Nathaniel give a little sigh next to me. Whatever.
Violet turned on one spiked heel, her arm still firmly curled around J.B.’s.
“If you will come this way, please, Ambassador. Your coats and luggage will be brought to your rooms.”
We pulled off our outer things and handed them to more faeries who appeared out of nowhere. They didn’t speak, simply took our coats, bowed, and slipped away again.
“Passages in the walls, you think?” I whispered to Beezle.
He nodded thoughtfully, then took off from my shoulder to fly ahead a little. I think he wanted to eavesdrop on the conversation between J.B. and Violet. The two of them were having quite the little tete-a-tete as we strode along.
If there were passages in the walls, that meant there was always a chance of our conversation being overheard. I made a mental note not to speak too freely while we were here.
J.B. and Violet walked ahead of us down a long stone corridor lined with medieval armor. Amarantha apparently really enjoyed playing queen of the castle, down to all of the accessories. Then I got a closer look at one of the helmets on the suits. Inside was a human face, frozen in terror, mouth open, eyes wide. I gulped.
Nathaniel noticed the direction of my gaze. He leaned close to me as we walked.
“Those are soldiers from the War of the Roses in 1460,” Nathaniel whispered. “Amarantha kept them as trophies when she helped the Earl of Warwick defeat the Lancasters at the Battle of Northampton. She added the armor later.”
“Isn’t that in England?” I said.
“Yes. Amarantha had her castle moved brick by brick when she migrated here two hundred years ago.”
“Just how old is she, anyway?” I asked. This corridor seemed to be taking forever, especially now that I knew the suits of armor were filled with bodies.
Nathaniel frowned. “I am unsure of her precise age, but I believe she has recently entered the 1107th year of her reign as queen.”
“Wonderful,” I said sotto voce. “How come everyone I meet is a kajillion years older than me? They’ve all had centuries to practice being crafty. Me, I’m just a thirtysomething thrown in the deep end of the pool without a floatie.”
“I am your floatie,” Nathaniel said.
