Chapter 7
“Hogan,” I said softly, looking at the shimmering gold fabric at my feet. It was beautiful but not what I wanted for the occasion.
Gnomes’ magic was passed to them by their fathers and was geared toward a trade.
Gnomes knew what they wanted to be as they grew up and trained their craft for that purpose.
Hogan’s mastery of fabric had won his position with the High Priestess at a very young age.
He was a meticulous perfectionist, took clothing so seriously at times it was almost comical.
A small imperfection in my appearance irritated him profoundly, so my question needed to be asked delicately.
“Yes, my lady?” The brilliant blue surrounding his dark eyes sparkled in the candlelit bathroom.
“Would it be an insult to your talent to request a specific dress for this occasion?” I watched his face for a hint of displeasure. Instead, his smile was full, showing all his tiny, sharp teeth. His little green mohawk tilted to the left.
He bowed. “It is an honor that you liked one of my creations so. What would you like to wear?”
“If it’s appropriate, I’d like the midnight-blue and gold gown you made me the night Lord Tynan returned to his castle.” I had felt beautiful in that gown, and needed all the confidence I could manage this afternoon.
“Very lovely.” He looked pleased, almost giddy.
He waved his little hand and mumbled. Piles of silky midnight blue replaced the gold at my feet.
With another mumbled incantation, the fabric swirled through the air and wrapped around me.
With an inspired grin, he mumbled yet again, and gold-and-blue braided cording twisted into my hair.
In my excitement, I rushed to the mirror in the bedroom. He had done my hair up and twisted and curled it into the fabric. Long tendrils fell around my face and neck, giving me a very feminine look.
Manus came through the door, and his face lit up. “You look divine, my lady.”
“Divine?” Hogan tsked and crossed his arms over his own finely made gold suit. “She is a vision.”
Manus offered me his arm. “It’s almost noon. You ready for this?”
“Do I have a choice?”
We headed down the hall, and I prayed I wouldn’t forget the courtesies Bevin had taught me.
The three of us stood waiting behind giant wooden doors carved with graceful Celtic designs.
I studied the designs for a time before realizing they were actually wards, carved into the wood to protect all who entered.
I followed the designs with my eyes. I needed both the protection and luck.
Hogan was behind me, drawing a ward on my back with his little fingers. The subtle sizzle of his magic calmed me. I took a deep, steadying breath. This is my home, my place.
The doors opened as if I had willed them to and Manus escorted me into the room, my hand tucked into the crook of his elbow.
I thought it would have been an imposing space, since it was used for WildLand's political meetings and ceremonies, but, like the rest of the manor, the cavernous space was homey.
Softly glowing lights and soothing seafoam-green walls gave no hint of the power accumulated in the beings currently occupying the room.
A low murmur echoed off the cobblestone floor as I entered.
All eyes were on me as I made my first appearance to the Kith and faced my first test. They knew my history, my parents, my world—but none knew me.
I held my head high and looked around the room to meet the eyes of some of the guests standing around tables and along the far wall.
Their assessment of me as a future leader would start now, and I wanted to make a good impression for Doran.
I turned my gaze from the tables and down the line of leaders. Dema was glaring at me from the end of the line. Her blond hair glowed around her sour face.
“Remember, most of the men here are available,” Manus whispered as we moved into the room.
“I’m aware of Doran’s ulterior motives,” I said under my breath.
I smiled and nodded to Hogan as he took his place by the door.
When Doran stepped forward to meet me, I released Manus and placed my hand on hers, hoping no one but her would notice the slight tremble.
Her face carried a tinge of nervousness.
It was gone as we approached the first in the receiving line.
“Simon James,” Doran announced and gracefully turned me to face him.
I did the smallest of curtsies. Simon was a Werewolf.
The Were wielded some magic, and the curtsey was a small show of respect to his rank.
This particular Were was the Alpha male of the largest pack in America, located in the mountains of Montana.
He was also responsible for a very special mineral that kept the Veil around the island.
The magic that made it invisible and strongly encouraged any vessels to veer away.
“Mr. James,” I repeated. His face was long and deliciously ferocious. Dressed in a well-tailored, chocolate-brown suit that complemented his dark-caramel hair, he looked like a dangerous man. I wondered what his wolf looked like.
I let my gaze roam from his head to his perfectly polished shoes as a show of appreciation for his prowess, making sure that my face expressed the fact that I found him attractive.
And truthfully, I did. The Weres were very aware of sexuality and animal instinct.
Showing him I found him physically worthy of his position as Alpha was a great compliment.
“I’m honored.” His voice was thick and gruff.
Doran turned me to the next in line. “Deloris Matherson,” she said as I turned to face the next guest. Definitely a Witch, bookended by two Magicians who were far more beautiful than I.
Most of the purebred Magicians were beyond pretty.
They wielded magic within them that was not as strong as the Witches’, so Magicians were relegated to consort status within the council.
Deloris sneered as I looked over her consorts.
She was on the foe list, according to Abbey.
Her son had been one of Dema’s early consorts, and the two still held a strong loyalty to her.
“I am pleased to meet you, Deloris.” Even though the woman was the leader of a large coven, only first names were used for Witches. She nodded slightly, and Doran quickly moved to the next in line.
“Lord Harkkas of the Trolls,” Doran announced and turned me to face the Troll.
Surprised, I sucked in a deep breath. The Troll was every bit of seven and half feet tall, with skin that looked like a cross between algae and brown leather.
His face and head were rounder than that of a human, his eyes as dark as still mountain pools, and he smelled of the river.
Lord Harkkas bowed deeply, and I returned the gesture.
The Trolls were on the friend list. They couldn’t move openly in the human world and they weren’t the violent Trolls of fairy tales.
They enjoyed a good life and wanted it to stay that way.
Trolls would fight to protect, but otherwise, I was told, they were very gentle beings.
We stopped to greet several other Witches, Imps, Goblins, and Gremlins. I had managed everything with grace and with the proper courtesy. Then we came to the Slaugh.
“King Bran of the Slaugh,” Doran announced, keeping her tone as neutral as she had with the others.
I hoped I could do the same. I made a small dip—to do otherwise would have shown weakness to him.
To look him square in the eye, I had to straighten to my full height and look up slightly.
His crinkled, black face was tucked far back in a hooded cape.
It looked more like a skull than actual flesh and blood, and was beyond creepy, but I held his gaze and tried not to think about the attacks and not to lose my temper.
The stench of death hung around his form.
His body took up a great deal of space, but I guessed that without the voluminous robes it would be hollow and insubstantial.
“King Bran,” I said sternly.
“I am happy to see you in the flesh, little girl,” he whispered, as the Slaugh do. The comment was a blatant insult, since there was nothing he would like better than to actually eat my flesh. I was now free to return the favor.
“You are as lovely as I imagined,” I said so low that even those closest to us wouldn’t hear, and I kept eye contact. He winced, and the haze started to thicken around his hooded features. I smiled. Doran turned me away before he could say more.
I caught sight of Tynan in the background with some others whom I had met previously. My heart leapt, and my body tingled at the very thought of him.
I knew who was last in line and was not looking forward to seeing her again at all. Doran turned me to my half-sister. “The Priestess of the Seas, Feldema,” she said in the same bored, formal tone she had used to introduce the others. Feldema bowed to Doran but not to me.
“Dema,” I said, intentionally leaving off her title and using her informal name.
She righted herself. “Keena.” There were murmurs all around at the snarl in her voice.
Kendrick stood behind her, his face bruised from this morning’s incident with Tynan.
I couldn’t help but let a small smile cross my lips.
Dema’s youthful, pretty face tightened. She leaned in as if to kiss my cheek.
“You will not live to All Hallows’, odd sister,” she said for my ears only.
I clenched my teeth under my politically correct smile before replying, “You’d better hope not.” I knew her powers were strong, but I had no intention of letting her think I was afraid.