The Faerie's Honeymoon Read Online Free Page B

called her that to tease. Not sure she ought to tell people to call her Belle instead - because what if that made her husband look like he’d married an idiot? - she gazed around the place they’d be staying in.
    Belle wasn’t a pauper. She’d started a successful rent-a-maid business and was now considering switching into refurbished junk. All the same, she’d never seen anything like this outside of a TV show. The living room boasted three giant floral arrangements, as dewy as if they’d been picked a minute ago. The furniture scattered across the gleaming expanse of hardwood reminded her of pictures of Versailles. The couches and chairs and tables perched on delicate baroque legs - gilded with real gold leaf, from the look of it. A painting resembling Monet’s Water Lilies only better stretched along one tall wall. An acanthus columned arch led into a kitchen, and across from that, the dining area’s crystal chandelier cast rainbow sparks everywhere. The carpet presented such a realistic depiction of a field of bluebells, Belle didn’t see how human hands could have woven it.
    Elven hands, maybe.
    “Okay,” Belle said. “I see why this a ‘bower,’ but why call it the Mayor’s? This is fit for a king.”
    Though Belle was simply stating a fact, the manager looked pleased. “The Mayor is our highest elected official. And very popular. I take it the suite is acceptable?”
    “More than,” Belle said, overwhelmed. She didn’t want to know how much this place cost per night. “Is that a terrace behind those French windows?”
    “Yes, princess. It runs around the suite on three sides. We’re fifteen floors up here. The view of downtown is excellent.”
    Belle had no doubt it was. She heard the needle-toothed bellhop humming in the next room, apparently enjoying the process of hanging up a stranger’s clothes. Belle remembered another reason she wished Duvall was with her.
    “Um,” she said to the manager. “My husband mentioned the local currency is different. I haven’t had a chance to exchange the money I brought for tips.”
    The manager was around Belle’s age, very pulled together and attractive. She had the unflappable demeanor many people in her line of work strove to cultivate. Nonetheless, Belle saw she’d surprised her.
    “You needn’t worry about gratuities. Serving a prince like your husband is an honor.”
    Belle wasn’t sure what to say to that. As far as she knew, even in Resurrection honor didn’t pay bills - a fact of life the bellhop at least was liable to care about. Minimum wage would only go so far.
    “All done!” that individual chirped, beaming with her two zillion teeth. In honor of the holiday, her cute red cap bore a band of tiger stripes. “I’m Anemone if you need anything while you’re here.”
    “I’ll let you know,” Belle said through her bemusement. If Anemone secretly turned into a shark, Belle wasn’t letting her draw her bath.
    The manager cleared her throat at her subordinate.
    Giggling, Anemone dropped into a quick curtsey. With a respectful bow of her own, the manager and the girl withdrew, leaving Belle alone in the gargantuan suite of rooms. She glanced toward the bed chamber, wondering if she should finish unpacking. She was strangely reluctant to venture in alone. She wasn’t used to the sort of surprises that might lurk here. Would she find a giant four-poster carved out of solid gold? Would it have twenty mattresses and twenty featherbeds piled upon a pea?
    Most importantly, would she care if Duvall showed up to bounce on them with her?
    That idea sent her gaze to the suite’s double doored entry. Footsteps sounded like they were approaching. Perhaps her husband and their driver had concluded their presumably life and death errand.
    Deciding Duvall could do with reminding this was their honeymoon, Belle strode over to find out.
    “Oh,” Duvall said, coming to a halt as she swung the door open. The huge demon hulked a few paces behind him