Frost (Frost and Nectar #1)(18)

“Less slovenly and common?”

He nodded. “Exactly.”

I’d been sort of joking, but Torin was not.

He turned, catching the eye of one of the footmen outside. “Aeron, bring these ladies to see Madam Sioba.”

Without another word, he stalked off, his cloak billowing behind him.

I looked to Shalini, and she shrugged as the footman gestured for us to follow after the king.

The footman walked in front of us, his boots echoing on the flagstones as he led us deeper into the hall, until we reached a doorway with a set of stairs that curved upward. We climbed the stairs, the darkness illuminated by warm candlelight.

Even the footman was beautiful, his body broad and muscular, his hair dark blond, wavy, and slightly wild. When he glanced back at us, I caught sight of his eyes. They were an otherworldly shade of gold.

Shalini smacked my arm, then nodded at the footman. She grinned at me, and I already knew what she was thinking. He was gorgeous.

But his beauty wasn’t enough to distract me from the sinister feel of this place. I was struck again by a lacerating feeling of being unwanted here, as if the dark stone itself were rejecting me. Shadows danced on the walls around me, making me jump.

The stairs seemed to stretch on forever. How big was this place?

“I’m regretting skipping my leg day,” Shalini said from behind me. “I mean, like, every leg day.”

At last, the footman led us into a hall, where tawny light slanted through narrow windows, casting diamond-shaped shadows onto the suits of armor lining the opposite wall. Even though the hall seemed to stretch on forever, not a single other fae was up here. The castle itself seemed to be almost entirely deserted, only the shadows moving across the stones.

I desperately wanted to ask the footman for a snack, but I didn’t imagine that was on the agenda for now. “Where are you taking us?” I asked quietly.

He turned with a hint of a smile. “Just a little further.”

As we walked, I grew increasingly confused how the interior of the castle could be so large.

At last, we stopped by an oak door inset into the wall. A small brass plaque beside it read MADAM SIOBA’S FINEST in curling script.

The footman knocked, the sound echoing down the hall.

A woman answered. She had the pointed ears of a fae, which stuck up through loose hair of a wiry gray. She looked exhausted, with bags under her eyes that could have rivaled my own. But her clothing was exquisite, a long robe of crimson silk embroidered with gold threads.

“Aeron?” She tutted. “Don’t tell me he wants another one. What am I supposed to do with this mess…and her human?”

“Listen, Sioba. You don’t want to get in the way of the king’s will, do you? Of what’s best for Faerie?” He nodded at me. “I thought not. So she’ll need a dress.”

Madam Sioba’s lip curled as she looked me over, but she pulled the door open wider. “Better get on with it.”

We entered a dimly lit workshop with a black and white tiled floor. Aeron entered behind us but stayed by the door, arms folded. His blond hair hung rakishly before his eyes.

I surveyed the room. Rolls of fabric were draped over every surface: taffeta, silk, satin, velvet, chiffon, and brocade. Bundles leaned against the walls, were stacked on shelves, and had been stuffed into large wicker bins. Skeins of thread and yarn littered the place, tinged red in the light of the sunset.

But my gaze slid to a plate of scones, by far the most appealing thing to me right now. It wasn’t so much that I was hungry, since the heartbreak had destroyed my appetite, but a buried instinct knew I needed calories. When was the last time I’d actually eaten?

“You’re Ms. Jones?” Madame Sioba’s voice snapped me out of my hunger-trance.

I blinked at her. “How did you know my name?”

“It’s not important.” She planted her hands on her hips. “Now get up there, and let me get a proper look at you,” she ordered, and gestured to the enormous ottoman.

I started forward, but Madam Sioba caught my arm and pointed at my feet. “Not in those hideous things.”

“Oh, right.” I was still wearing my Nike running shoes.

I started to bend over, but Madam Sioba flicked her wrist, shooting a flash of yellow flame at my shoes. They ignited, and I jumped, my muscles clenching in anticipation of the burning pain that was sure to come. It took me a moment to realize I wasn’t on fire, just barefoot. The acrid scent of burning plastic hung in the air. My shoes and socks had been completely incinerated, but my skin was untouched.

My eyes met hers, and my mouth hung open.

She tutted. “I can see you are unaccustomed to magic. That’s fine. We are welcoming of all sorts here. Even the common fae.” Her voice dripped with disdain.

Why was it that whenever they claimed to be welcoming here, it sounded very much like the opposite?

Madam Sioba ignored me, muttering to herself as she poked around in a large hamper full of scraps of satin. “Simply unbelievable. I specifically told Torin that they need to be here at least a day in advance. And these two, dressed like common whores.”

Shalini and I exchanged looks.

“You do realize we can hear you?” I asked.

Madden Sioba either didn’t notice or didn’t care.

“Every single time”—she shook her head as she tossed pieces of fabric onto the floor—“Torin thinks I’m going to fix his problems for him. As if I don’t have any life of my own.” She turned back to us, holding up a lustrous piece of satin in an antique cream color. “What do you think of this?”