Fire and Bone (Otherborn #1)(69)

Princess Gwyn bows her head. “Welcome to our community, Princess Sage. The children of Lyr greet you in peace. We ask for your consideration and present this tribute in your honor.” She motions to the pixie standing beside her. “Her name is Brea, and she will serve you well.”

Sage frowns at the pixie girl and then looks back and forth between her and Princess Gwyn. She asks carefully, “You’re giving me a person?”

“A pixie, princess. Not a person.”

Sage’s lips tighten and her cheeks turn pink.

I speak up before she can unload on the clueless woman. “Thank you, Princess Gwyn. The Daughter of Fire is honored by your gift.” The princess seems mollified by that and nods her goodbye.

Sage glares straight ahead as the House of Lyr all leave, each bowing or curtsying as they pass. The pixie, Brea, stays behind, kneeling a few feet from Sage.

As soon as the remainder of the House has trailed away, Sage turns to me and hisses through her teeth: “What the hell just happened? Did they just give me a slave? This is completely demented.”

I lean close and whisper, “Agreed. But for now, let’s focus on getting through the night. We’ll cure the injustices of our kind tomorrow.”

She doesn’t seem happy about that. She sets her jaw and keeps glancing down at the pixie, annoyed. The House of Lyr didn’t win any points tonight. They clearly took themselves out of the running.

The next to be announced are the two demis from the House of Arwen—Beatrix, the master, and her very creepy brother Picket, who has black eyes and the pointy ears of a bat. Several shade underlings trail behind them—thankfully, they didn’t bring along any wraiths, the House of Arwen’s weapon of choice.

They look down their noses at Sage as she fidgets with her torque, obviously uncomfortable. She doesn’t seem to want to look at them.

“We have no wish to be considered,” Queen Beatrix says, her tone dead. “No tribute will come from the House of Arwen.”

Sage nods, her features softening in relief.

This is good. Queen Beatrix is just as twisted as she is disagreeable to look at. Who knows what sort of madness she’d start in a contest like this if she were truly jumping in. And if Sage hated the serving pixie as a gift, there’s no telling how horrified she’d be with the typical gift from the dark family of Arwen—like the dismembered waxed corpse of Napoléon Bonaparte that they presented during my younger sister’s Emergence in 1834.

The House of Arwen wander off, and Sage releases a heavy breath. “Only two more, right?” she asks, her voice shaking. I know she’s worried about the last proposal. About Kieran—her eyes go right to him every time there’s a pause.

“How’re you feeling?” I ask. I don’t see her golden light on her skin—amazingly, she appears to be in control.

She shakes her head. “Who knows.”

Before I can ask her to elaborate, two of my own brothers of the House of Cernunnos are announced.

Sage straightens, giving her attention to the approaching party.

Duncan and Finbar step forward, both tall and broad shouldered. There are several alfar and shade with them, along with six of Finbar’s druid children in the background. They all strain to get a better look at Sage.

My eldest brother, Finbar, King of Ash and Oak, bows his head. “The House of Cernunnos would like to be considered as a home for you, Princess Sage,” he says. “Your beauty, your mind, and your heart would be greatly treasured by all within our House, but especially myself.”

She seems captivated by him, her eyes widening a little at his words. She watches him intently as he stands straight, his air of confidence obvious. He’s gained a lot of power since the last time I saw him, and it shows. The Cernunnos bloodline is known for its beauty, and my brothers both received a large portion. Hair full and dark brown, features stalwart, and that casual look of strength in their heavy-lashed green eyes. Sage is likely dazzled by them, since most females are.

I have to focus all my energy on not stepping between her and their hungry gazes. I know all too well how their minds work.

“We’ve brought a small token,” Duncan says. He sets a carved wooden box at Sage’s feet. I spot Astrid behind him, and my shoulders tense even more. She’s holding Duncan’s hand. She doesn’t even spare me a glance as my brother introduces her to Sage, and I wonder if she told Duncan that she spoke with me last night. He describes her to Sage as his near-Bond, and my teeth clench at the realization of how far gone he is with my old lover. Last I heard, he had merely taken Astrid on as a lead concubine after Finbar cast her off.

But a Bonding?

She’s more underhanded than I thought. Either that, or Duncan has finally lost his wits.

He reaches down and opens the box, revealing a small tiara coated in glittering diamonds. It may as well be an old shoe for all the attention Sage gives it. She’s too busy studying my ex-lover.

She casually says thanks to Duncan for the gift before asking, “So, you’re Astrid?”

Several faces turn our way when Sage speaks.

Duncan beams at the recognition, showing his usual haughtiness. “Yes, she’s a warrior, a hunter of great note,” he says, as if Astrid can’t answer for herself.

Sage pinches her lips like she’s thinking, looking back and forth between Duncan and Finbar, then she says, “And you’re Faelan’s family.”