These Wicked Revels by Lidiya Foxglove

Author:Lidiya Foxglove [Foxglove, Lidiya]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2017-05-25T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twelve

Evaline

I had been shocked to find a man in my room that morning. Under my bed. Emerging from the passage to the faery realms. All I could think was that I had been caught. It would all be over, and I would never sing and dance again, not unless my new husband was willing to stand up to court rules, and I wasn’t sure any single man was capable of that.

And this man was just some ordinary fellow from town, I thought, before he was dragged away.

It was a hot day. The maid helped me into my clothing and I felt like I was trapped in an oven. It was too much to bear. If I get out of this today, I will give up my mask tonight. I swear it. Anything is better than this.

I received a summons to view the man’s punishment as the maid was pinning my lace shawl to my hair.

So, this man had not been able to prove anything either. Of course, Father would never let this go through. I shouldn’t have worried.

I trembled with apprehension. At least he would be the last man to suffer.

I proceeded to the courtyard, and Father opened his hand, revealing gleaming leaves that were all too familiar.

I looked at the man who was now tied to the post. He wasn’t lying. He really did follow me.

This was my first truly good look at him. The way he was looking at me reminded me so much of the faery gentleman that I thought I might faint at the idea of that man. The man who spoke to me so candidly and touched me in such delicious ways, surely could not emerge in the real world. If he could…

That man, I would accept as my husband. That man, I thought, was bold enough that we could work together to shape the kingdom, King and Queen together someday.

I had never realized how much I wanted it all, until that moment. I wanted music and dancing and lovemaking that left me whimpering. I wanted to bring the joys of the revels to my own court someday, or I did not want to belong to this world at all.

But my mind quickly brought itself back to the present moment. This man had familiar eyes, yes. But he was not my faery fellow. He was a human, and he looked quite different. He was about the same height, a little more tanned and muscular, because of course he would be working by day rather than dancing about by night. His hair was medium brown, cut short enough to stay out of his eyes, slight stubble traced along his jaw. His features were handsome, but not in the faery way—more coarse, more ordinary, rather than the stuff of a moonlit dream.

Still, I kept staring at him.

Those eyes.

“Princess,” he said. “It’s me. I danced with you last night.”

Oh, heavens.

What if…what if he was my faery? What if it really was a disguise? How many times had

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