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66.2

I leaned into Griff and whispered, “When they said tea with the king…”

“I thought he would at least sit at the head of a table.” He flicked his head toward the end of the room.

The Fae King slumped on a golden throne, dressed in a black velvet frock coat that contrasted with his long, silver hair. Ornate silver buttons ran along its cuffs and in two rows down its front, giving it the vibes of a tin soldier. The shirt he wore beneath it was unbuttoned to his waistband, revealing his pale, muscular chest.

I held back a snort. What a wanker.

He rested his chin on the palm of his hand and stared unseeingly through half-lidded eyes. I’d never seen anyone look so thoroughly bored. Flanking him on his left and right were officious looking men and women dressed in medieval formal wear.

“Those have to be the High Court faeries,” I said to Beki.

She cocked her head. If I’d had the time, I would have explained to her that these were the aristocrats, while the loan sharks and those who ran the ca
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