" Its...fine, I guess. "

,, Its nice. Comfortable. ,, She notes, in a matter-of-fact tone. ,, What material did you use? ,,

"Wonderful!" She blew past Isiea's question. "I had the girls wash your mortal clothes," Lady Weaver said, turning away from the mirror. "Oberon would have them destroyed, but then that would mean more work for me, so I put them in your bag. Once Elysium is over, I'll be taking that dress back, so you'll want to hang on to your own clothes."

"Let us go," Lady Weaver rasped, wrapping a gauzy black shawl around her throat. "Elysium awaits. And, half-breeds, I worked hard on those dresses. Do try not to get yourselves killed."

They walked through the briar tunnels into the courtyard. As before, it was packed with fey, but the mood had changed into something dark. Music played, haunting and feral, and faeries danced, leaped, and cavorted in wild abandon. A satyr knelt behind an unresisting girl with red skin, running his hands up her ribs and kissing her neck. Two women with fox ears circled a dazed-looking brownie, their golden eyes bright with hunger. A group of fey nobles danced in hypnotic patterns, their movements erotic, sensual, lost in music, and passion.

Isiea immediately decides she doesn't like this. She hates parties in general, but this is just on a whole new level of anti-Izzy.

Lise kept her eyes elsewhere. Did these people do anything that wasn't weird and had an aura of uncomfortableness to newcomers?

Oberon and Titania were sitting at a long table, surrounded by Seelie knights and trolls. The king and queen sat side by side but were actively ignoring each other. Oberon's chin rested on his hands as he gazed out over his court; Titania sat like she had an icy pole shoved up her backside.

Puck was nowhere to be seen.

"Enjoying the festivities?" asked Grim

"Nope." She replies flatly. "I think I'm gonna be sick."

" I just got here and I want to leave. Does that answer your question? " She muttered.

Before he could respond, Lady Weaver spoke.

"The Winter Court will arrive soon," she rasped, pencil-thin fingers closing on their shoulders. "You must take your places at the table, beside King Oberon. He has requested your presence. Go, go."

Her grip tightened, and she steered them to the table where Oberon and the lords of the Summer Court waited. Oberon's gaze was carefully neutral, but Titania's glare only consisted of utter hatred. Between scary spider lady and the Queen of the Seelie Court, the girls might end the night as a mouse or a cockroach.

"Pay your respects to your father," Lady Weaver hissed in their ears, before giving them a small push toward the Erlking.

Isiea can't think of anything to say. She's forcing her expression to stay neutral, because otherwise she'd have the face of a deer in headlights.