control. They are incensed, to say the least, particularly the Winter Queen, as she thought her knight had claimed it for her. You should come to Faerie and see if the holding responds to you.”
Mention of the “queen’s knight” again—Falin. I made it a point not to think about him, or about the fact that he’d never cal ed or made any attempt to contact me after the Coleman case. But being back in the Bloom, remembering what had happened here—or more accurately, what had happened after we’d left the Bloom, made heat lift in my cheeks and the ache fresh again. I dropped my elbows on the table and pressed the palms of my hands against my eyes. “I think I need a drink.”
“Have you tried that before?”
I looked up. “What?”
“I have heard rumors. Most are not convinced you are fae enough to hold land in Faerie, but the blood . . . If you’ve eaten faerie food before and left Faerie unscathed, that perhaps proves you are fae enough.”
“Oh.” I shook my head. Everyone knew better than to eat faerie food. One bite of food or sip of wine would addict a mortal for life—she would never be able to eat anything else, as regular food would turn to ash on her tongue. Even if someone had the wil power to leave Faerie, she would eventual y starve to death. There were talks about importing regulated faerie food for those who accidental y became addicted, but making fae food available outside Faerie addicted, but making fae food available outside Faerie increased the risk that mortals would come in contact with it. Currently there were very few cases of addiction, but it was also very difficult for mortals to get into Faerie, so the chance for accidental exposure was minimal.
I was half fae. Did that give me a fifty-fifty chance of being addicted? I glanced at Rianna’s mug.
Her thin fingers wound around the mug, dragging it closer to her side of the table. I didn’t think she was aware of the motion. She believes I can claim land in Faerie but is unconvinced I can eat their food? I felt a smile crawl over my face, but I knew it wasn’t a happy one. I wasn’t about to take the chance of getting addicted anyway.
“Wil you come to Faerie?” she asked. “See if the land responds to you? If it does, you can align to a court so the holdings move there.”
“Whoa, slow down.” I threw up my hands. “I don’t want to claim Coleman’s holdings. They can rot for al I care. And I’m certainly not going to align myself with a court.”
Rianna’s frown stretched across her face, and if possible, her shoulders slumped further. “Al,” she said, her voice just above a whisper, “I’m part of Coleman’s property.”
Chapter 8
I blinked at my former best friend and roommate. “I thought you were freed when Coleman died.” I’d seen the silver chain dissolve from her throat.
“From his compulsion, yes. But from Faerie?” She shook her head. “I’m a changeling. Four years passed for you, but I have lived in Faerie hundreds of years, danced with the fae, eaten their food and drunk their wine. I’m not mortal anymore, not truly. Like them, I’l never age, never die, but only while I’m inside Faerie.”
“You can’t ever leave?”
She shrugged. “I can take short trips as long as I’m careful. If I leave, the magic of Faerie wil protect me except for the moments surrounding dawn and sunset. Those are the moments between, when the world is changing, and al but the strongest Fae magic fails. If I were caught outside of Faerie in the moments when magic fails, al the years I’ve seen would catch up with me and I would turn to dust.” She shuddered and Desmond nudged her stomach with his muzzle. Her hand dropped to him and clutched the thick fur at his nape. “But back on topic. A changeling can’t own anything or align with a court. If I had just wandered into Faerie, I could be claimed by any court, but since I belonged to Coleman, I now belong to his heir. While possession of his property is in question, I am untouchable
—theoretical y—-but there is no one to enforce that status, and no court wil help me.”
“So you want me to come to Faerie and claim you?” The words tasted bad in my mouth. “That’s crazy. You’re a words tasted bad in my mouth. “That’s crazy. You’re a person. You’re my friend.”
She crossed her arms over her chest. “I’m a changeling.
And I’m in trouble.”
“I—” My protest died in my throat when Desmond’s head snapped up. He lunged to his feet, his lips curling away from his rust-colored teeth as he stalked around the table.
I whirled around, my hand moving toward the dagger hidden in my boot even as I turned. Me, paranoid?
Probably.
A woman who looked human, though she may have been glamoured, stopped three tables away. Her eyes widened as Desmond planted himself in her path, and her hand froze in front of her body, as if caught in a motion between reaching and blocking. Then, shocking the hel out of me, she dropped into a curtsy.
“I mean no harm, sir barghest,” she said without rising.