Page 37 of The Blood Queen

“What?” I ask.

“It’s just…” Alyth pauses. “Right, so you know how Queen Beira has certain affinities?”

“Such as being in control of winter?”

Alyth nods. “And she’s also linked with stags and deer.”

“So what were the Faerie Queen’s affinities?”

“Trees,” she says as if it were obvious. “Plant life, things associated with spring.”

“Not too bad.”

“And bugs. Moths, beetles, dragonflies, and, most of all”—Alyth hesitates and adds in an almost inaudible whisper—“spiders.”

I blanch.

Alyth grins. Grins enough to laugh at my expense, and I nudge her as we continue walking.

“No disrespect to her, but she’s dead. Why should I care about—” There had been spiders at the top of the door when we first stopped in front of it. I gawk down at Alyth. “That whole room’s full of spiders, ain’t it?”

Alyth nods. “I’m afraid so.”

I blanch again.

She giggles again.

And it’s not so bad. Facing a room full of spiders to find the deadliest Red Cap item ever created.

Not if she’ll be with me while we do it.

* * *

It takes the rest of the day to get ready for this ball.

Not even Mary cared so much about her parties, and she cared a lot. But after we eat, Alyth shuttles us both back to our room, where the imperious brownie is waiting with a whole group of other fae loaded down by clothes and cosmetics.

Alyth’s father gave the brownie instructions, apparently. Instructions for us to impress.

Easy for Alyth; she exudes command just by being her. But for me, a con artist from the slums who barely squeaked by faking it in a Scottish court?

Better be some pretty potent clothes.

I get corralled into the room next door while Alyth’s set upon in hers, and after endless hours of getting cleaned and poked and prodded, measured and made to try on dozens of outfits before one’s picked, the brownie declares me passable and positions a full-length mirror in front of me.

My jaw drops.

Well. Damn.

My hair’s gleaming copper and pulled half off my face in a series of braids so intricate they’re closer to a tapestry than a hairstyle. A vest sits over a fitted shirt, tall boots, and fitted pants, but the material’s where it’s most different. It’s patched-together fern leaves, layered over and woven together, a collage of deep forest green and brighter sage and muted olive. The boots are age-softened brown leather while still looking brand new, with the pattern of that leaf design in a gold filigree, matching the gold glitter brushed across my face. All the colors combine to make my green eyes flare so they look otherworldly.

Yeah, let’s go with passable.

“Lady Alyth will be waiting in the ballroom,” the brownie says, and that sets a fire in me.

But I don’t miss how he calls her Lady now. Not Miss.

“The ballroom?” I ask. “She’s there already?”