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words in the liquid language of her people as red flames erupted over his skin. She stood back and stared. “I had forgotten how beautiful you both were.”
    “Mother?” he asked.
    “There will be time enough for answers later. Now we must plan your Noce .” She paused for a moment. “Unless there is doubt?”
    Fiach stepped to Cilia’s side and pulled her in for a kiss. Their flames merged, and purple fires arched from their bodies to spill into the air around them. Murmurs and appreciative sighs echoed around them. He looked down to Cilia’s half closed eyes. “I need to ask you something. Just trust that whatever decision you make is the right one.”
    He dropped to one knee and cupped her hands between his. “Cilia Andrews, flame of my heart and mate to my soul, will you marry me?”
    Whispers filled the hall. “Is she human?” someone asked. To buy time as he awaited her answer, Fiach addressed the crowd. “Cilia lives among humans. I thought it would be fitting to ask for her hand in their traditional way.” His heart dropped when he realized she hadn’t answered.
    She freed a hand from his grip and tipped his chin up with a finger. “I will marry you, Fiach. My answer is yes.”
    In a blur too fast for her eyes to track, Fiach trapped her in his arms and spun them around the room. His lips dropped to hers. He pierced her mouth with his tongue, tasting the fire simmering below the surface. She burned; the heat consumed his thoughts until the aphrodisiac in his system roared to life. He struggled to stop from tearing the clothes from her body and claiming her in front of the entire Faerie court.
    *
    Cilia laughed exuberantly as Fiach twirled her around the gilded hall. She couldn’t decide if she was still dreaming or if she was awake. The creatures around her seemed so alien, too beautiful and perfect to be real. Even their voices were as silk caressing her senses.
    The loveliest, the most inhuman wore a long gown of spun silver with diamonds woven into the fabric. Her white hair hung in perfect ringlets down to her waist and a fine filigree crown in the same color nestled in her curls. Her face was flawless and smooth.
    Her large silver-blue eyes tilted up at an exotic angle, and her too-red lips were full and lush. Most disarming was the fact that Fiach called her, “Mother.”
    As if reading the question in her eyes, Fiach leaned in and whispered, “Later,” into her ear. She nodded and let him tuck her tightly against him.
    The Lady addressed her. “This must all seem so sudden to you, but I assure you we have waited long years for this time to come. The Noce is our most sacred of bindings.
    Do not enter into it lightly.” She cast a worried glance at Fiach. “You will both be tested in preparation for your vows. They are dangerous interrogations with potentially lethal consequences.”
    He frowned. His mother’s warning unsettled his warm assurance from only moments before. Cilia clutched his arm and reaffirmed her answer. “I wish to be bound to your son. I agree to any test you deem necessary.”
    “Mother.” The single word was both a sharp warning and a desperate plea. “She doesn’t understand the power of her words. I ask for lenience on her behalf.”
    The smooth lines of the Lady’s face remained impassive; she kept her reaction to his words hidden. “I cannot grant you what you ask. From the moment she agreed to the Noce, she is bound to her words, however carelessly offered or naively spoken.”
    Cilia paled, too late realizing her mistake. She had agreed to endure any test the Lady required. Fiach was livid. After the stories of his childhood antics in Faerie, she should have realized the value of knowing when to keep her mouth shut.
    The Lady addressed her court. “Keep the silence and stay to the light until the trial has passed. I will remain in my rooms until its completion.” Then she turned to Fiach. “I would have a word with my son.”
    *
    “Rois, please keep