Caitrina stood in the shadow of the garden wall, unseen by the lovers. If she possessed a one-hundred-percent mortal heart, she’d be gushing over the scene playing out before her eyes. As it was, with a halfling heart, she remained merely amused.
She believed from the beginning, she’d win this round, the next, and the next. The only requirement remaining to complete this match was for the MacLachlan chief to plant his seed. Considering the testosterone he threw off, the carnal joining would happen soon.
Caitrina tasted freedom on the wind. It wouldn’t be long. Her royal status would be restored along with the right to return to Tir-nan-Óg.
Suddenly, an unexpected tingling skittered across her skin, warning of fae activity. Something was wrong. She held motionless, sensing a power surge surround her. One second, she watched Patrick kiss Laurie. The next, she was in the queen’s antechamber.
The disoriented sensation from the unexpected realm-hop passed quickly and the nausea subsided, but trepidation built. Many human centuries had trudged by since she visited the palace. The last had been the awful day of her banishment. Now she found herself summoned by the High Faerie Queen.
The large room was much the same as she remembered. Silver columns and crystal walls, brilliant sapphire gemstones in cut-glass bowls, luxuriant royal blue velvets and silks draped about, all to enhance the silvery splendor of the high-queen.
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