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Summary
Wriothesley remembers his self-made oath, and admonishes himself for staring as he steps down from the dais to properly greet his guests. He schools his expression into a charming grin. So much for being impassive and intimidating.
Reaching out a hand in greeting he drawls, “Welcome to the High Winter Court of Kastell Distrein. Well met. I am King Wriothesley. I hope you find all accommodations amenable.”
A slender hand tipped with perfectly manicured blue nails takes his, and shakes it in greeting with unexpected strength. “Well met your Highness. I am Neuvillette, the emissary sent from the Seelie Court to make sure we can come to an accord. I am honored to be a guest, and have every confidence in the hospitality of the Winter Court.”
Those purple eyes sparkle with something Wriothesley can’t quite place. The aura of this man is unlike anything he has ever encountered. If he didn’t know any better he would assume the man is his equal.
Wriothesley has been facing a blight on his Kingdom one only the Seelie court can help with. When the Seelie Emissary arrives, it seems that magic and mischief are in the air.