And now, I was back in the kettle, simmering in overly hot water. There could be no escape, it seemed. When Moragana addressed Ben Stevens, my chef and a friend of several hundred years I realized that he was well known by her. Had he always been a spy for Moragana? Was his friendship a mere deception? The bitterness of deceit hit me. I shut it away, realizing there were more important things to deal with now.
After the Queen’s overtures to Penelope and myself, did I dare trust Moragana? Absolutely not. If I had a choice, I would never voluntarily return to Faerie, but a direct order from the Queen left me as much a captive as I’d been before. And now that Penelope was my wife, my poor darling had fallen into the Faerie drama with me. That sent tendrils of fear up and down my spine.
I would need to explain everything to her before the web thickened, before the dangers were flung like arrows in the night, seemingly random but with Faerie purpose. Penelope would need to learn all about that kingdom: the politics, strange customs, manipulations, power plays, and specifics found in the Gloaming Court. Penelope would also have to be told that Andrew and I were taken there against our will and had fled from Moragana, herself.
But for now, I would shut away such fears. I had a far more pleasant focus in this moment, the pleasure of our private ceremony. Sex with Penelope was always a joy, but what Simone and Andrew had not revealed was that consummation of our marriage was not all that this bedding ceremony entailed. There was also the Pooka bond, the bite that would officially bring my beloved Penelope into the Supernatural World.
I was just about to delightfully gratify our desires when I suddenly froze. I exhaled abruptly, struggling for adequate breath from the shock of what I was seeing. “Where did you get that necklace?” I demanded. My eyes remained frozen on the startling piece of jewelry Penelope was currently wearing around her neck. I could feel the Power of Faerie it emitted.
Penelope giggled. “I’m not wearing a necklace. I did have on the bracelet you took off and placed on top of the cabinet. It’s my something blue, something borrowed — wedding tradition stuff — which means, don’t let that bracelet out of your sight. We have to return it to Judy. But do we have to talk about jewelry right this moment. I was really enjoying . . .”
I stared down at my bride, her body a delight beneath mine. But for the moment I couldn’t concentrate on that. My eyes were still frozen on the necklace. I recognized that this necklace wasn’t something Penelope would have chosen. I’d noticed that she normally was jewelry-free.
This piece was actually beautiful, formed in the white gold that was a favorite of those in Faerie. At the end of its chain lay a thick rose quartz with Celtic flower knots wrapped about it. Yet, how had it come to be around Penelope’s neck? Could she truly be oblivious to its presence?