**DAPHNE**
My ears perk up as footsteps sound. Echoing on my left, from behind a tall single panel door. It slides aside and Ash steps out, finely garbed in tight black trousers and flowing silver tunic. It is sleeveless and his arms are on full display, making my insides clench at the memory of him holding me just hours ago. The crowd of the great hall goes silent, each of them still as their prince arrives.
Ash simply shrugs. “Eat,” he says, climbing up toward his place at the high table as commotion commends about the space. Catching my eye, his jaw tightens. Taking a seat on my left he fills my plate. “Eat Daphne, we will talk after.”
I nod, my breath catching, as he reaches under the table to slip a hand under my skirt and caress my thigh. I can’t help but be affected by him as I lean closer to his comforting warmth. “Where were you?” I ask, taking a bite of the deliciously spiced beast in front of me.
He stiffens. “Later,” he hisses, removing his hand.
I know I should heed the soft warning in his voice, but the longer I sit here and glance around at the folly of the night, the more I am consumed with guilt over what horrors Diana may be facing. She may very well be in the throes of some form of faerie torture while I fill my belly with fruit and cake.
A sudden dizziness washes over me, and I drop my food.
Oh no. Not now, please...
The nausea that comes and goes is fleeting and on the edge of eruption. Reaching for my goblet, I down a good deal of whatever sweet juice is inside of it. Clamping my eyes shut, I concentrate on my breathing, willing the illness to pass. Once it does, I open my eyes to find Ash studying at me.
“Are you well?” He whispers, stroking my hand above the table.
I nod, smiling as best I can and attempting to fool him by nibbling on the edge of a crusted pastry. “Fine.” But then I can’t help myself, I add, “Better than my sister is doing, I’m sure.”
He nods, his jaw ticking. “Daphne-”
“No!” I hiss, shaking my head. “Do not tell me again that we will discuss things later. For all I can think about is what Diana might be going through now.”
“Diana?” Ash sits back, chewing angrily, then snapping his fingers he beckons a beautiful, winged servant girl. “Cider please,” he tells her, and she nods, eyeing me for the barest of moments.
Once his goblet is full, he drains it, snapping his fingers again for it to be refilled and then pointing toward mine for the same.
Dionie whispers toward me from my right. “Diana is your sister’s name?”
I nod, ignoring Ash’s glare as the two of us continue. “I am certain she is the one that remains. For as long as I can remember, Isabel has been our protector, our savior. Our storyteller. She was the mother neither of us had. If anyone in my house killed one of the Fae - it was her.”
“Quiet,” Klyesque warns, her eyes scanning the crowd. “You do not want any one of these guests to hear you say ‘Fae’ and ‘killed’ in the same sentence pertaining to your sister.”
I smile softly, eyeing the pair of them. “Perhaps I might have been more adjusted to this - had even a one of you told me about it sooner.”
Ash stills, his body tensing completely. Dark energy gathers around him like a blanket, yet I am not afraid. It is as if he is angry with himself, and the power surrounding his displeasure aims itself at the bearer.
“I am sorry, Daphne,” Klyesque says sadly. “It was not my place.”
I nod at her in understanding and watch as Dionie sits back, lowering his head in shame. “I too am sorry,” he whispers. “If I had it to do again I-”
“You what?” Ash snaps. “Would disobey my express orders not to say a damn thing? Are you so infatuated with Daphne that you might turn back time? Is that it?”
“I am not infatuated with her!” Dionie groans. “She is-”
A fist pounds the table to my left, silencing him. “She is mine,” Ash hisses, his eyes swirling with energy. “Mine to protect and mine to decide for. Not yours. Not yours at all.”
Rage bubbles inside of me at that and I can’t help glare at him, “How dare you? I am not your property.”
Anger swirls about him in glitters of red heat. “Not my property? No? Perhaps you belong to Hayden then.”
I raise a hand to slap him, and he catches my wrist. “Don’t,” he warns quietly. The black clouds of energy that surround him dissipate and his eyes fall sad. He whispers, “If you do that here, in the presence of my people, I will have to murder them to save you.”
I whimper, as his hand turns my wrist inward, and he brings it to his mouth for a wet kiss. “And would you?” I question, not really expecting him to answer me.
His silver gaze falls dark, hooded by thick black lashes. “I would.” But he does not seem happy about it. The look on his face is the same that he wore after I expressed my love for him.
“Goddess, what an entertaining night this is,” Klyesque grumbles, resigning herself to the cider in her goblet. “You’ll have to excuse my disappointment of the moment. I think I might have liked to see that.”
Dionie snickers, glancing about at the room full of patrons. “Me too.”
“Why?” I inquire softly. “Who are these faeries? And where is Petra?”
“Petra is not a member of the Elite Council,” Klyesque mumbles. “Everyone else here - with exception of the guards, Dionie, and myself - is. Then of course, there is you, the honored guest.”
Glancing up, I scan the crowd. They do not seem at all troubled by my presence and suddenly I find the fact slightly disturbing.
*Why?*
*Are they not the least bit curious as to who I am?*
“The Elite Council - much like your human court of nobles - hold to the laws of Fae. Each of them is the most powerful of their species and most of them carry secrets of their kin, placing them in power. They are as corrupt as the nobles of your homelands,” Klyesque explains quietly, watching the crowd with a keen eye. “I, for one, would have liked to watch them burn.”