Lord Maric asked for an audience. I received him in the Residence: who knew what he’d become in the months since we’d seen one another? Inviting him to my bower seemed too intimate, and forcing him to discuss important matters in the shadow of Ardan seemed too formal.
I was newly awake still, I suppose, for I can’t remember much of what was said. But Maric himself has changed.
Is it wrong that my cynical old twenty-first century self thinks he bears a creepy resemblance to Keith Richards? Honestly, if you’re going to go for the old rock star look, pick Roger Daltrey or someone!
He offered the usual pledges of support, spent rather a lot of time on hand-kissing. Yes, he is a Fae King now. I could feel the anointing on him. I could smell it– along with the strong smell of old blood, of course. Some things nev change.
When the Wyld surged in him, he changed.
In that moment, he resembled no one so much as Gwythyr Gwynn, though thankfully, he did not display Gwythyr’s … Delight in making others miserable. He was all control and barely concealed lust for me.
And the kiss of spring is just around the corner. I am resolved to work with him; the land demands it. But he is not My Janus.
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