Chapter Eight

Kerren didn’t normally eat breakfast, but the previous night’s activities had made him awaken ravenous. He dumped berries onto two bowls of spiced porridge and grabbed several sweet rolls.

He’d mostly emptied his home of food since he was leaving, and Vevina was supposed to take care of the rest, but instead, she’d restocked. While he was grateful for this, she was still a traitor.

In addition to the food, he’d found a suitcase full of dresses in the living room, and he knew they had to be from Brook’s personal wardrobe, being of the fit and fabric not found on Prism. Meaning that on top of her other offense, she’d apparently broken into Brook’s home.

He dragged the wheeled luggage up the stairs along with the tray of food he’d prepared. He found Brook in bed, sitting up but staring out the window.

“Are you hungry?”

She looked over and smiled as he set the tray down. “I’m starving.”

“It’s not a typical breakfast. We don’t have bacon and eggs here,” he said, as she crawled towards the food.

“I can’t believe I’m going to live in a world without bacon,” she groaned, pouting. “Bacon is life.”

He tore a roll in half, trying not to stare at her bare breasts glowing in the sunlight that seeped into the room. “The hotel guide mentioned it, and it suggested that it was part of the typical American breakfast. Bacon, eggs, pancakes.”

“That sounds delicious,” she said digging her spoon into the porridge. “But this looks and smells amazing, so I’m not complaining.”

Brook took a bite and moaned. Kerren wasn’t sure if it was an Earth habit, a woman habit, or just her own idiosyncrasy that led her to make such tantalizing sounds when she ate, but he loved it all the same.

It made him want to track down whatever bacon was, just to witness her reaction.

“I thought we could walk around today, just see what catches your eye,” he said changing the subject.

She nodded and bit into a piece of sweet bread. Her eyes closed and she bounced slightly, as if overwhelmed by the taste of it.

“Does everything here taste so phenomenal,” she asked finally.

He laughed. “My opinion would be biased, but I’d say probably.”

She tore the bread apart and scooped it through the porridge. “It’s the little things that make life grand.”

“I’d agree. But as far as the other things, Vevina brought some of your personal items.”

She rocked to the side and eyed the luggage. “I thought that suitcase looked familiar. Another show of fae privilege? Stealing?”

He didn’t bother trying to defend his assistant’s actions. Just thinking about Vevina plotting such a scheme boiled his blood.

“I hope she packed underwear,” Brook said slyly.

Just like that, his heated blood was redistributing itself. He’d felt a moment of foolishness after tearing her clothing, but in retrospect, she hadn’t seemed all that upset.

“Kerren?”

He looked up and found her watching him with an odd expression of caution. “Yes?”

“Do you think I’ll fit in? Will it work?”

“Of course. The fae will love you.”

“But I’m human, and suddenly I’m… noble, I guess? It sounds like resentment and hostility waiting to happen.” She glanced down at her bowl, stirring her food slowly.

Reaching out, he lifted her chin. “It’s not like that. I’d be lying if I said there weren’t fae who looked down on most humans. And yes, some won’t be impressed by a human in the court.”

She frowned.

“But,” he continued, “You saw how the majority reacted to the announcement. Excited. Humans have a somewhat novel appeal, and most of them come from planets less modernized than your Earth.”

“I’m entertaining?” she asked with distaste in her voice.

“Not in the way you assume.” He dragged a hand through his hair and tried to explain. “Most humans either stumble upon Prism accidentally or are pitied and invited to come and live. They’re claimed, which is far from being noble.”

“Claimed?”

“It doesn’t sound good, but it’s just how it goes. Claiming can be like adopting or like hiring a servant. It all depends on the circumstances. A family may step forward and welcome them in, or they take employment. By becoming connected to fae they gain standard rights. They even marry fae, though it’s rare,” he reasoned. “My point, though, is that humans are usually coming from poverty or are completely downtrodden. That’s not you. You’re proud and poised. Certain of yourself. You aren’t looking at a life on Prism as an escape from anything, and that places you on a different level entirely.”

She stared at him, then looked down at her food again.

“It’s meant to be a compliment,” he pointed out.

“I get that, sort of. Sorry but now I’m wondering how one goes about stumbling onto a new planet by accident,” she admitted sheepishly.

He chuckled softly. “Some of the demifae can conjure portals. Their portals are intuitive and occasionally call to those you may consider lost souls. Not physically lost, but otherwise adrift. If they end up here, however, it was meant to be. No human who has fallen through a random portal has regretted it.”

“But doesn’t it insult the court that I’m not here of my own free will? I didn’t fall through a portal, I was summoned and now I have no choice.”

“They can’t fathom you not wanting to be a part of it. Literally, the possibility will not make sense.”

“But you understand,” she said softly.

“Because I’ve been trying to get away for half of my life. Blame my mom. I must have inherited her wanderlust. Only my father kept her here. After he gambled his way into a life in prison, she started traveling and I followed suit.”

“What? Prison?”

He bit his tongue. Spilling that snippet of truth surprised him, as well. He didn’t like to talk about his father. Shrugging, he gave a crooked grin to hide his shame.

“My father wasn’t fond of me. As I got older he seemed to care less about me, and the more my mother doted on me, the less time he spent at home. He gambled and got in trouble, enough that the authorities stepped in took him away. We’re expected to act with a certain level of decorum, and he didn’t have it. As I said before, restrictions.”

“He was jailed for being… inappropriate to his title?”

“Maybe.” Kerren furrowed his brow, admitting something he’d hidden his entire life. “I think he was abusing my mother.”

Brook took a deep breath.

“Mother never said anything, but it was like something in the air. Sinister. Artur has been known to look the other way at minor offenses, but something about my father made him lay down punishment. Furthermore, my father’s actions should have thrown shame on all of us, yet my mother retained this home and her title.”

“I had no idea,” Brook whispered. “I’m sorry to have brought it up, Kerren.”

“No, it’s fine. Maybe it’s a good thing to know. To see the fairer side of the King you’ll be serving. I didn’t understand when I was younger, but time has made me see. The way my mother would keep her distance at times, how her smile would become fake when we’d sit at dinner. I believe that Artur hid the extent of my father’s true crimes so that there would be no stigma on my mother and me. There are worse men that have ruled the Pure court.”

Brook placed her hand over Kerren’s and squeezed it gently. He’d never spoken to a soul about the dark mystery around his childhood. His mother was too content now for him to bring it up without feeling guilty, and to the rest of Prism, his father was simply a rowdy and unworthy scoundrel.

Only Brook placed him at such ease that deep secrets could spill forth without causing pain. If any human deserved to be placed on a pedestal and admired by the fae, it was her.

* * * *

Kerren waited downstairs while Brook bathed and got dressed, killing time by sprinkling the flowers in his backyard with honey crystals. Come night, the pixies would find the sweet treat and turn his garden into a demifae party. It was the type of magical treat that would hopefully remove the sting from Brook’s fate.

He wanted her to focus on the positives.

Dusting off his hands, he went back inside and found Brook descending the stairs. Her luxurious red tresses were curled and spilling over one shoulder, contrasting against her pale skin. She wore a cream sleeveless blouse with a ruffled bow in the front, tucked into a fitted, black and white pinstripe skirt.

Black heels completed the look, but she held a pair of flats in her hand.

“You said walk, and I’m not sure if where we’re going is paved or what,” she said waving the shoes. “I’m still pissed at Vevina but thank goodness she thought to pack options. I guess I have enough for now, until I hit the nearest fae dress store…”

“You look amazing,” he said, taking her free hand as she came close. “You know, you don’t have to switch to wearing the traditional fae clothing. You could dress like this and I don’t think anyone would complain. Or at least, certainly not the men... and perhaps a third of the women.”

Pink bloomed on her cheeks. “Maybe. It may be easier to just wear what I’m used to. Fae women tend to be… smaller, from what I’ve seen. I don’t want to have to wear curtains or something.”

He chuckled. “Fae come in all sizes. If you want traditional gowns, you’ll have them. Why on Earth would you wear curtains?”

“Hmm. Pop culture reference.” She held up her shoes. “So?”

“Heels are fine unless they hurt your feet. I just want you to be comfortable.”

She pursed her lips and appeared to be thinking deeply on the subject. “I think I’ll stay the way I am for now. Don’t ask me why, but I think I need the boost.”

“What boost?”

“It’s probably silly to you, but between making me taller and making my legs look incredible, the heels are helping me feel like myself. And every little bit helps right now, because I just took a bath in a magical tub that heated the water and added perfume and bubbles without me even lifting a finger.”

He scratched his head. “Oh. Some things will take a lot of getting used to, I suppose.”

“Understatement of the year,” she whispered.

After setting her shoes down in a corner, she reached into a hidden pocket of her skirt and held out a paper. “By the way, this floated in through the window while I was bathing. It’s in your language. And another by the way, the window was closed, and it went through the glass.”

He arched a brow and took the slip of paper, reading it and translating it aloud. “The Queen requests your presence for high tea to discuss your future station and make arrangements.” He glanced up at her. “That’s quite the honor. You had to have made an impression to be invited for tea. I’m a duke and I’ve never had tea with her.”

She sighed softly. “What are the odds that I can negotiate out of my future station?”

“Do you really want to?”

She cast a glance out the window. “I don’t know.”

“I have something to show you.” He held out his arm and she took it. “We’ve got time before I need to escort you to the Queen’s garden.

“Lead the way.”