Page 10 of Wings of Snow
He smirked. “We don’t wish each other good morning in the Lochen culture. It beckons bad luck.”
“It does?” My eyes widened. Of course, that was probably one more reason Sabreeny hated me.
The male drifted past me, moving silently until he reached Cailis’s side, where he lifted the teapot. “Wishing someone a good morning is believed to anger the gods. The gods determine what our mornings will bring. Not fae.”
I offered a weak smile. “I apologize. I’m afraid I’m ignorant of your ways.”
He inclined his head. “Naturally. My king tells me you’re mated to the death warlord.”
“I am, sort of.”
He arched an eyebrow, and I blushed.
“The bond’s not fully sealed,” my sister clarified with a barely controlled smile. “Buthe’sfully mated to her.”
I cast Cailis a side-eye. I knew she hadn’t added that remark offhandedly. She wanted to ensure the Lochen understood that if something happened to me, the Bringer of Darkness would be who they answered to.
“Ah.” The male dumped out the old tea and proceeded to make a fresh pot. “So you’re saying that sooner or later, he will show up on our shores.”
I resisted the urge to pick at my fingernails as the male set the teapot over a small fire in the tiny hearth. What I wouldn’t give to know how Norivun was doing or what the Solis king was up to. But I didn’t even want to think about Georgyanna or the wedding preparations that were undoubtedly underway. Just imagining her smug satisfaction made my blood boil, not to mention the threat she’d given me at the end of the final test—a threat I had no doubt she would enthusiastically pursue.
“May we help?” Cailis said when the male pulled a plate from the shelf. “And I’m Cailis Seary by the way, and this is my sister, Ilara.”
Both of us automatically brought fists to our chests before we bowed.
Surprisingly, the male mimicked the Solis gesture before saying, “Tylen. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”
I cocked my head. “Do you have a last name, Tylen?”
“No, unlike the Solis royals, we don’t feel the need to add a dozen names to our first one.”
My eyes widened. “You’re royal?”
“Indeed. Drachu is my father.”
“Apologies,” I murmured as we both dipped into curtsies.
Cailis canted her head. “So you’re a prince?”
Tylen arched a blond eyebrow. “Technically, yes, but I share that title with over fifty other males.”
“Fifty?” Surely, I’d misheard him. “You’re telling me that there are fifty other princes? But that would mean that Drachu’s sired fifty males with the queen.”
That had to be impossible. Fae were lucky to birth more than half a dozen children in our lifetimes, and the Nolus fae birthed even less in their short lifespans. Female cycles could be sporadic, and conception wasn’t guaranteed even if one had a fertile womb. The fact that Cailis, Tormesh, and I had been born so close together was nearly unheard of.
“The queen didn’t birth most of my father’s children. Many of his concubines did.” Tylen began to strain the tea and pour it into cups. “My mother lives on an island far south of here. She’s been a concubine of Drachu’s for over seventy seasons.”
Cailis and I shared a surprised yet intrigued look. I nibbled on my bottom lip, not sure how to ask what I was wondering. But I decided I was never going to learn the Lochen culture if I didn’t voice my curiosities. “So...even children sired from a concubine are considered legitimate?”
Tylen’s lips twitched, and I was glad he found my question amusing versus offensive. “Indeed. ’Tis another way we differ from the Solis in addition to our lack of names.”
Cailis frowned as her wings caught the sunlight, making their black shade appear brown. “But how do you keep everyone straight without more than one name?”
“Because each name in our culture is unique. Nobody shares names.”
Cailis snorted. “How’s that possible?”
Tylen poured tea into three cups and smirked. “Creativity.”