herbs? The only thing missing was the patchouli.
“The breeches are made from mushroom skin. When sewn, the material is rather sturdy.” So that’s what the strange pants Cerne wore were made of? They were extremely soft as well as form-fitting. They showed all the ridges and plains of his thighs and calves. Rhiannon wished the men on Earth wore such eye-appealing clothing. She giggled, wondering if they were edible too. It would make a most interesting evening for Cerne and her.
“You know, we eat mushrooms on Earth, right?”
“These are toadstools. A bit different from typical mushrooms your friends on Earth partake in.” Onora assisted in pulling the exquisitely soft fabric down over Rhiannon's curves. She smoothed the velvet while Rhiannon adjusted the belt at her waist.
“You'll need your circlet.” Onora held out an emerald and ruby-encrusted gold headdress.
“It's beautiful!” Rhiannon strained to touch it, afraid the delicate band encrusted with diamonds rubies and emeralds would snap on contact. “I can't wear that. It looks too expensive.”
“But you must!” Onora placed the circlet on Rhiannon's head. “See?” Onora turned Rhiannon toward the mirror.
Rhiannon's jaw dropped. She still couldn't get over how amazing she looked. The jewels sparkled and the golden crown glowed around her head. “Wow. I'm speechless.”
“Why does your beauty surprise you?” Onora twirled one of Rhiannon's curls around her finger. “After all, two of the most handsome faeries in all of Fey are your parents.”
“So when am I going to meet these two über-attractive faeries?” The sooner she met them, the sooner she'd do what she was brought here to do. Then she’d return to Earth and get her promotion.
“The elder council will decide when.” Onora's mouth swept into a toothy grin. “But I'm sure it'll be soon. Councilwoman Windsong plans on starting your lessons tomorrow.” Oh God, not the lessons . From the dissertation Maeve gave her earlier, she would learn everything, including how to ignite the faerie passion—whatever the hell that meant. It was probably some bizarre and kinky sex ritual. From the brief conversation with Maeve, these faeries were extremely serious about their sexual relations. They had courtesans, sex instructors, rooms dedicated to sex and carnal pleasure, and a wide variety of massage oils, lotions, and toys she'd never dreamed of using. Yet the thought of using them with Cerne sent shivers of desire coursing through her.
“Cool! I can't wait.” Rhiannon turned to the door. “The garden beckons, doesn't it?” Onora took Rhiannon's arm in hers. “Indeed it does.” She opened the double doors and led her out. They turned the corner and made their way down the long corridor toward the palace gardens.
“How much further until we get there?” Rhiannon asked. Had she been on Earth, the pointy-toed slippers she wore would've hurt like hell, but not here in Fey. The proverbial feeling of floating on air overcame her. “I'm not uncomfortable or anything. I'm just eager to get to the
garden.”
“We're almost there, Your Highness.” Onora turned the corner, just as a bald, stocky faerie came from the north.
Mr. Clean with wings? How cool!
Onora jerked to a stop and bowed to the man. The older faerie looked down his nose to the younger faerie-in-waiting and huffed. Rhiannon would much rather suffer through a root canal than bow to some arrogant stranger.
“You may rise.” He nodded, turned to Rhiannon, and gave her a scrutinizing gaze. “Is this our princess?”
Onora, whose expression remained flustered, finally spoke. “Yes, Your Excellency.” She turned to Rhiannon. “May I present Her Royal Highness, Rhiannon Nightwind, Princess of the White Plains?”
The man offered a quick bow. “As High Councilman of White Court, I am honored to welcome you back.”
Wonderful. Someone else to remember? “Does the High Councilman have a name?”
“Radan
“The breeches are made from mushroom skin. When sewn, the material is rather sturdy.” So that’s what the strange pants Cerne wore were made of? They were extremely soft as well as form-fitting. They showed all the ridges and plains of his thighs and calves. Rhiannon wished the men on Earth wore such eye-appealing clothing. She giggled, wondering if they were edible too. It would make a most interesting evening for Cerne and her.
“You know, we eat mushrooms on Earth, right?”
“These are toadstools. A bit different from typical mushrooms your friends on Earth partake in.” Onora assisted in pulling the exquisitely soft fabric down over Rhiannon's curves. She smoothed the velvet while Rhiannon adjusted the belt at her waist.
“You'll need your circlet.” Onora held out an emerald and ruby-encrusted gold headdress.
“It's beautiful!” Rhiannon strained to touch it, afraid the delicate band encrusted with diamonds rubies and emeralds would snap on contact. “I can't wear that. It looks too expensive.”
“But you must!” Onora placed the circlet on Rhiannon's head. “See?” Onora turned Rhiannon toward the mirror.
Rhiannon's jaw dropped. She still couldn't get over how amazing she looked. The jewels sparkled and the golden crown glowed around her head. “Wow. I'm speechless.”
“Why does your beauty surprise you?” Onora twirled one of Rhiannon's curls around her finger. “After all, two of the most handsome faeries in all of Fey are your parents.”
“So when am I going to meet these two über-attractive faeries?” The sooner she met them, the sooner she'd do what she was brought here to do. Then she’d return to Earth and get her promotion.
“The elder council will decide when.” Onora's mouth swept into a toothy grin. “But I'm sure it'll be soon. Councilwoman Windsong plans on starting your lessons tomorrow.” Oh God, not the lessons . From the dissertation Maeve gave her earlier, she would learn everything, including how to ignite the faerie passion—whatever the hell that meant. It was probably some bizarre and kinky sex ritual. From the brief conversation with Maeve, these faeries were extremely serious about their sexual relations. They had courtesans, sex instructors, rooms dedicated to sex and carnal pleasure, and a wide variety of massage oils, lotions, and toys she'd never dreamed of using. Yet the thought of using them with Cerne sent shivers of desire coursing through her.
“Cool! I can't wait.” Rhiannon turned to the door. “The garden beckons, doesn't it?” Onora took Rhiannon's arm in hers. “Indeed it does.” She opened the double doors and led her out. They turned the corner and made their way down the long corridor toward the palace gardens.
“How much further until we get there?” Rhiannon asked. Had she been on Earth, the pointy-toed slippers she wore would've hurt like hell, but not here in Fey. The proverbial feeling of floating on air overcame her. “I'm not uncomfortable or anything. I'm just eager to get to the
garden.”
“We're almost there, Your Highness.” Onora turned the corner, just as a bald, stocky faerie came from the north.
Mr. Clean with wings? How cool!
Onora jerked to a stop and bowed to the man. The older faerie looked down his nose to the younger faerie-in-waiting and huffed. Rhiannon would much rather suffer through a root canal than bow to some arrogant stranger.
“You may rise.” He nodded, turned to Rhiannon, and gave her a scrutinizing gaze. “Is this our princess?”
Onora, whose expression remained flustered, finally spoke. “Yes, Your Excellency.” She turned to Rhiannon. “May I present Her Royal Highness, Rhiannon Nightwind, Princess of the White Plains?”
The man offered a quick bow. “As High Councilman of White Court, I am honored to welcome you back.”
Wonderful. Someone else to remember? “Does the High Councilman have a name?”
“Radan
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