Throne in the Sky by Angela Kulig

Author:Angela Kulig
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Green Envy Press

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Jessiba came breezing in as if nothing had happened, then she saw my face. I still held the blade between both hands. Its silver tip pointed to my silver-wrapped toes.

"Who gave you that?" Jessiba asked mildly, but she gave me a wider berth than she ever had before.

"The guard who came to get me this morning. I asked him for it when we were in the sleigh—when things got—complicated."

Her eyes drew into skeptical slits, but she came no closer. "And where were you hiding it?"

Neutrality had been trained into her voice. It was that blank questioning tone that made my thoughts jerk to a halt. Suddenly I understood. My things had likely been gone through earlier without me knowing. She had just stripped me nude before tossing me into the gown I was wearing.

She thought I'd stashed the blade somewhere. She thought I meant them harm, as if that wouldn't have led to my family's immediate execution. If the weather were half as bad as it had been before, they wouldn't have even known what had hit them.

"You're asking the wrong questions," Whin said, strolling between us.

Jessiba hadn't known he was there, and it was strange to see her startle.

"Prince Leyland gave it to her—twice today—if you can believe it. Only he would be so brazen."

The short sword seemed to shimmer in my hands at that. So, he wasn't some random guard at all, but a prince. I was glad I hadn't had to describe him to Jessiba and risked having to say what a handsome git he’d been.

Titles to the Fae could be a bit like costume jewelry to mortals. Beautiful but fake, so I had to ask: "Is he Lord Ryeland’s son then?"

I couldn't picture it in my head, but it was hard to tell with Fae. They could be hundreds of years apart in age, and you would never know by looking. There was always the chance he could be some third cousin twice removed.

Jessiba shook her head. "His brother, the youngest one."

I'd wager that Lord Ryeland was the oldest, that was typical. Who knew what the difference in age was?

Whin had walked to the mess Jessiba had made on my bed. There were clothes and shoes—all manner of lovely things to torture me scattered there. He touched nothing else as he plucked the box he'd brought me earlier in the day. I hadn't even had a moment to open it.

It seemed to glow between his long white fingers, or perhaps he was the one that was glowing. The ribbon came away, and so did the lid. He pushed the paper aside with a wave of fingers, and there was something inky-black sitting atop a snow-white bed of tissue.

Whatever it was, it had silver stitching in the shape of perfect little stars, clusters of them.

"It's a leg holster for your new friend." Whin waved a lazy hand to the blade still slick in my palms.

"But how did you know?" I questioned.

Without an answer, I let him lift the skirt of my dress and strap it as I held back the waves of wire and tulle and lace.

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