she don't make false claims
But she's a Queen, and such are queens
That your laughter is sucked in their brains
Upon a morning
The Queen swept from her chambers and walked the corridors of her castle, an ear open to hear the gossip flooding the walls following last night's revelry with the Blue Fae of Twilig Teg.
As those things went, it had been a quiet night. What had looked to end with nothing more than an evening's worth of dull conversation had taken a more lively turn when the eldest of the Teg realized that he was marked for sport — either in bed or in the gamepen, awaiting the next Great Hunt. The choice was his.
He and his tribe had then renewed their fealty, speaking it three times.
An attendant woke her this morning with the news that they not stayed to face the dawn. An amused Maev graciously declined to send the huntsmen after them; their bravery on the battlefield would make up for the slight to her Court's most gracious hospitality.