“You drink blood,” I reminded him.
“Sparingly.” He folded his arms and leaned against the wall, leaving me to either stand in the open space of his lounge area or sit on the sofa.
I chose the sofa. As soon as my butt hit the cushion, a wave of exhaustion overwhelmed me. Damn, what time is it anyway? I wondered, glancing at the balcony beyond. The darkness hadn’t let up since our arrival, suggesting it was maybe three or four in the morning. Assuming time worked the same here.
A bubble of a laugh caught in my throat. Here, I repeated to myself. In Faeland.
Magic lurked in every corner despite the modern decor of the home. Oh, there weren’t any hellhounds or anything, just a sense of ethereal energy in the air. Flames had danced over Kols’s fingertips on several occasions. At one point, he flicked one over to Tray that he’d deftly caught and smothered beneath a shadow of embers.
I’d watched in awe, every passing moment driving home the realness of this world. I’m half-fae, I thought for the thousandth time tonight. But I didn’t feel gifted.
“What if my power never manifests?” I wondered out loud. “Do I go back to Darlington?”
“The better question is, how do we break the binds on your magic?” he countered, pushing off the wall to join me on the couch. He took up the opposite end, bracing his back against the arm of the sofa and drawing up one knee while leaving the opposite foot on the ground.
I mimicked his position so we could face each other. “Is it normal for a Halfling to have to ‘break the binds’?”
“No. But nothing about your background is considered normal, Ella. You didn’t even know you were half-fae until tonight. The few who exist all grew up with parents who knew how to help foster the growing powers.”
“While my mother died when I was twelve,” I said, thinking. “So why didn’t my father say anything?” He’d died a few years later, shortly after marrying Clarissa.
“He likely didn’t know.” Tray shifted a little, his suit pants stretching across his thighs. My dress swallowed up half the couch, the skirt rustling with my every move.
How silly we probably appeared, sitting casually in our formal wear, talking about vampire-like fae.
“Your mother had to know her relationship with your father couldn’t last,” Tray continued, clearing his throat. “Mortals age much faster than we do. She’d still be in her early years of life when he passed. Thus, it’s likely that whatever she felt was fleeting, but perhaps she stayed because of you.”
I held up my hand to stop him. “My parents loved each other.”
“I have no doubt they did, but humans love differently than fae do, Ella. Consider how easily your father moved on. If he had been a fae, that wouldn’t have been possible.”
My blood heated at the mention of my father moving on quickly. Because yes. Yes, he did. And it was a point that bothered me at the time and still irked me now.
How could a person who professes to love someone allow another woman into his life in less than a year? I was still mourning my mother’s death the day he told me he was engaged to Clarissa. They’d wed soon after, gifting me two evil stepsisters and a stepmother who could hardly stand to look at me.
“You have all your mother’s features,” she’d told me countless times. “A pity, really. I never did understand what your father saw in her. I suppose it was kind of him to take her in off the streets, though.”
I shuddered, recalling her scathing tone and the implications of her words. The wicked witch often claimed my mother was a miscreant who lived on my father’s wealth and generosity. It took considerable effort not to point out the irony in her accusations. However, I bit my tongue because the last thing I wanted was to draw her attention to my mother or the finances she left behind in my name.
“We should get some rest,” Tray said, standing. “I’ll find you something more comfortable.”
That wouldn’t be hard. The satin gown, while beautiful, was not the most pleasant evening attire. Although, I probably could make a bed out of the puffy skirt.
Tray returned with a shirt and a pair of boxers and pointed to a door in the corner that led to a colossal bathroom decorated in ebony marble and silver fixtures. “Wow,” I breathed, taking it all in. If Satan had a bathroom, it would look like this. Maybe with the addition of a fireplace.
Shaking my head, I set the clothes on the black countertop and untied the ribbon at the base of my spine. The corseted top had been laced up my back by the dress shop owner.
And I had no idea how to loosen it after undoing the bow.
I nibbled my lip, considering my options.
Scissors? I searched the drawers. Nope.
Try to tug it off? I danced around a few paces, gripping the satin and pulling without any success. Actually, it only seemed to make matters worse.
Light it on fire? Yeah, no, I valued my skin too much for that.
Which left me only one, very uncomfortable, idea. “Tray?” I called, looking upward and inwardly cursing my fate.