Summerfall Read Online Free Page B

and bowed his head. “Please forgive us for keeping you waiting. Our understanding, based on your messenger’s note, was that we were to formally present ourselves at this evening’s feast. We knew nothing of meeting you this morning at court. We certainly never intended to offend you.”
    “Indeed,” said the queen. “As it is, however, I’m sorry to say we’ve concluded our business here this morning. What a pity.” The queen rose, and the others followed—the courtiers nearest the throne’s dais smiling tiny, condescending smiles that brought indignant color to Rinka’s cheeks. “At least,” the queen continued, “you will have some time this afternoon to make yourselves ready for tonight’s feast.” She gestured eloquently at their attire. “I’m sure it will be quite something for you to dine in the human tradition. Very different, I’d imagine, from your southern customs.”
    Garen kept his gaze trained on the floor, though Rinka could see the lines of his shoulders hardening with tension. She felt that they were very small—herself, Garen, the other faeries—next to these mighty people in their clean robes. She did not like feeling small. She wasn’t small.
    She was Rinka, daughter of Kaspar of the faery Council, and she would not be treated like this, queen or no.
    As the queen turned to leave, Rinka found herself stepping forward.
    “My queen,” she said, “you must understand we didn’t mean to offend you.”
    The queen turned back in surprise.
    “We are honored beyond words to have been invited here,” Rinka continued, her head held high. “I beseech you, do not let this small mishap color your impression of us.”
    The room thrummed with curiosity. “What is your name, Countess?” asked the queen.
    “My name is Rinka, my queen. And, if you please, I am not a countess. Faeries do not have countesses, or counts, or lords and ladies. Some of us sit on the Council, and the rest of us are simply faeries. The structure of our society is rather fluid, you see.”
    The queen raised her eyebrows. “Thank you, Countess Rinka, for educating me. But while you are in Erstadt, you will abide by our customs. It is a privilege for you to be given this title in accordance with your appointment. Is that understood?”
    Rinka bowed her head, determined not to make any further mistakes or betray her frustration. The queen was nothing like what Rinka had expected—neither welcoming nor impressed but instead haughty and pompous.
    None of this was playing out as Rinka had expected.
    “Yes, my queen, of course,” she said, but before she had finished the words, the queen had left the room in a swirl of emerald and gold.
    Many of the courtiers present remained, however, fanning themselves languidly, smoothing out wrinkled garments. As Leska led the faeries out, and as Rinka half-listened to Garen admonishing her, Rinka felt the courtiers’ gazes on her back like the eyes of birds—coldly inquisitive, and unfeeling.
    *    *    *
    Thank you, Countess, for educating me.
    Rinka snapped the reins of her poor, road-weary horse, driving him into the foothills behind Wahlkraft with a speed that bordered on recklessness. She couldn’t possibly be expected to stew in her rooms, as beautiful as they were, until the feast that evening. Not after what had happened that day, not with the queen’s words echoing in Rinka’s mind.
    How could she have been so careless?
    She had let her eagerness to prove herself, her shock at their reception, get the best of her. She had simply not been able to endure the queen’s rebuke without some attempt at passionate apology. That was one thing Rinka had always loved about humans, in the books she had read—like the faeries, they were governed by their hearts, by their passions. Their love of food and beauty, their love of country and home, even their love of love itself. Humans were nothing like what Garen and her father had become over the last couple of