(eng) Kimberly Frost - Southern Witch 05 by Casually Cursed

Author:Casually Cursed [Cursed, Casually]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

22

CAEDRIN AND I talked it over, and we—well, I—decided that it would be best for Roseblade to take me to the castle to meet the queen, for several reasons. First, because I wanted Caedrin to find Zach and Mercutio, and possibly Bryn if he didn’t get back soon, so my guys would be seen by as few fae as possible. I wanted them together, too, if we needed to leave on the run. Second, I thought it would be better if Caedrin and I weren’t together when I met the queen, since she was prone to jealousy when it came to her knights. Or so I’d heard and sensed. Maybe she wouldn’t be angry to find that Caedrin had a new daughter that he’d kept hidden from her, and that I liked him and vice versa, but I thought I’d better not take a chance.

I bundled up pastries and loaded myself down with them. Caedrin gave me directions, but they weren’t as helpful as they’d have been in Duvall or even a place that I was vaguely familiar with. “Veer left at the tallest oak along the way” just didn’t do me much good. But I had a plan. And the plan was to be friendly and ask directions in a stealthy way. “Have you seen Roseblade? Which way?” In my experience asking directions can be better than a map, because the best way to get to know a place is to get to know the people.

I walked what felt like a long way, following the sound of music and voices. There was singing, shouting, and laughter. When I emerged from the path to a clearing of rolling lawns, I’d found the faery festival. There were hundreds and hundreds of faeries scattered over the lawn, eating and drinking, joking and playing, dancing and performing. Some of their clothes were natural fabrics in earth tones like what the Native Americans had on in pictures you see in books. But then there were also those dressed in vibrant, bright outfits and costumes.

I followed a trail of rose petals and it led me to a booth with Roseblade’s picture painted on it. The young man who had followed us through the field of flowers was standing behind the counter, decorating straw hats and woven floral crowns with bits of carved bark and leaves that had been dipped in gold. He strung vines like boas and lengths of garland. Roses of every style and color seemed to be bursting from buckets in corners and on tables. It was more incredible than any flower shop I’d ever seen.

“Hi,” I said, taking out a cinnamon roll and offering it to him.

“Kismet! You are back.” He grabbed the pastry and took a bite. “Wow, which booth had these? Hey, I finished it. Did you get me the stones we talked about? And that headband, what’s it called again?”

“Osmet, I’m having a little problem with my memory. Kinda got zapped with a curse.”

“Bogus!” he said, which made me laugh.

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