The Fey King
What?
Nothing Vix had said before had made a particular lot of sense. But saying that Bodin’s father wanted to meet me in the gardens at noon, seemed to make even less than anything else had.
“What are you talking about, Vix?”
“The King of Fey has come.” Vix shivered as though terrified. “And he wishes an audience with you. Then me.”
An audience with me?
Even if such a creature existed, what interest would he have in meeting me?
And why does she sound so afraid?
“For what?”
“Now that all depends, doesn’t it?” Vix said, shuffling nervously.
“On what, Vix?”
“On exactly how much he already knows.”
“About what?” I said impatiently.
“All of this.” She gestured around. “Bodin’s interest in you, you fighting him and...me.”
“You? What do you have to do with anything?”
“The King would not like me meddling in his son’s affairs.”
I thought she was fierce and defiant. Why does she look petrified now?