Destined for the Fae King (Courts of Faery #3)

Chapter 2

I hold my breath and act like I’ve done this a hundred times, like it’s not my first venture into Faery.

You just have to want to be there to go through the door, I’ve been told. It sounds so easy. I never expected it to actually be so simple in practice. But one moment, I’m stepping across the grass under the boughs of the trees, and the next, my shoe lands on stone.

The warmth hits me first, like a blast of humid August air that curls around me like a blanket fresh from the dryer. Breath lodges in my throat, despite my mouth gaping open.

I pull away from Selena and turn in a circle, wide-eyed at the world around me.

We’re still in a forest of sorts, but the trees soar twice as high as before. Nor are they green and lush like I’m used to. These trees have thick, coppery trunks that pulse with an inner light, almost like they’re on fire. Leaves of purple, crimson, and gold hang from spindly branches. Vines of rich brown twirl around them, looping and hanging like a tropical jungle. Here and there, bright pink blooms the size of dinner plates dip their petals toward the ground .

Selena bumps her shoulder into mine, knocking me from my reverie. “Pretty impressive, right?”

“No kidding, I just— Wow.” I do my best to rein in my wonder and not look like the stunned newbie human that I am. I’m probably the only person here today who hasn’t seen this before, and acting like a fish out of water isn’t likely to earn me any points toward becoming the king’s bride.

While I know my mom isn’t gifted and couldn’t have seen this, I’m starting to suspect my dad told her all about it when he was alive and that’s probably why she never wanted me to come. She knew if I’d seen something like this in person, I wouldn’t have been able to not dream about it and want to see more. Right now, I have to fight the urge to run up to the nearest tree trunk and inspect it to see if I can understand how it glows from within, pulsing like it’s burning when the forest surely can’t be on fire.

A number of people—no, fae—wait around the large clearing we stand in. Large pieces of flat, white stone with dark purple moss in between create a mosaic landing of sorts. Two white marble pillars mark an exit leading to a worn dirt pathway through the trees, though no one seems to be walking it as far as I can see.

A pair of fae come toward us, both wearing tunics of crimson marked with a golden flame in the center—the same outfit worn by all the fae present in this moment. This, I know. It’s the symbol of the Court of Fire. Nearby, Uncle Matias hands off our luggage to fae male who vanishes with them, there one minute and gone the next. I blink at the spot where he was standing, trying to wrap my head around it. Logically, I know what he did. He shifted, the fae method of moving from one place to another through space in moments, but to see it firsthand is something else.

Suddenly, Aunt Dalia is in front of me, smoothing a lock of hair behind my ear before taking my face between her palms .

“Be calm. Smile. Do your best,” she whispers.

I can’t help but nod along. She’s told me the same thing at least a dozen times over the last twenty-four hours, as if somehow those three things will make all the difference.

“Good,” she adds, that hint of glassiness returning to her eyes. She turns and steps to my side as the fae reach us.

“We’re here to take you to the throne room,” the taller of the two says.

This, I’m prepared for…sort of. We expected they’d shift us there to save time, right into the waiting throng of fae where the contestants will be presented for the king and officially entered into the tournament for his hand. Despite knowing what comes next, my stomach still turns over and twists in on itself. My fragile grin becomes hard to hold, and it’d be a lie to say I’m not second-guessing everything that led to this point.

Even so, I somehow manage to take the skirts of my dress in hand and flare them out like some kind of fair maiden from a storybook as I give a little curtsy and reply, “Thank you.”

Humans may have advanced out of this archaic greeting and formality, but the fae have not. And I didn’t spend endless hours poring over coven records with Selena not to know the basics.

The guards show no reaction to my greeting, stuck as they are in their rigid formality. Maybe I shouldn’t have bothered. No one else in my party did. But I’d be a fool to think the competition hasn’t already started. Anything and everything I do could be to my favor or my detriment, depending on who sees it and tells someone—say, the king—about it.

“Join hands with one another,” one guard instructs as they come to stand between me and my aunt. “Do not let go until we reach the throne room. ”

I cling tightly to the fae guard’s warm hand, my muscles taut in anticipation. The world around us blurs. A little squeak catches in my throat as the trees become one mass of blended colors. The hot and humid air constricts around me. The crimsons, purples, and other darker shades of the vibrant forest slide away like water splashed on glass until only golden tan shades remain. Then other colors rush back in, and the air around us seems to pop like a balloon.

In less than a handful of seconds, we’ve traveled from the doorway to Faery to a massive, domed chamber. Pillars of cream-colored stone streaked with golden tones soar up to a glass roof. Hallways venture off in various directions. More fae guards linger about their thresholds. Before us stands a set of double doors two stories high that have a subtle glow and pulse within like the forest we just left. They must be made of the same wood, which manages to keep a bit of its magic long after harvest.

“Welcome to the royal palace,” the guard says as he releases my hand and steps away.

I all but gape at my surroundings. And this is where I’ll be living during The Choosing. At least, I assume it is. A grin pulls at the corner of my lips. It should be a nice change from the cramped house I share with my mother and brothers. Even the marble floors are streaked with golden veins that catch the light and glimmer like little flames rushing under our feet.

“The throne room is straight through here,” another guard remarks with a gesture at the doors.

“Thank you,” I reply.

“Yes, thank you,” Uncle Matias echoes with an air of dismissive superiority that scrapes against my nerves .

But there’s no time to focus on him. Two other guards stationed near the double doors are already pulling them open, a wave of sound rushing out to greet us.

Selena grabs my hand and gives it a little squeeze.

“Here we go,” she whispers.

Here we go, indeed.

I stand a little straighter, taking in the mass of people—human and fae—beyond. Either more attendees arrived than expected or they plan to cram us in like sardines.

The room is far from small, stretching what must be over half a football field from the doorway and bearing similar characteristics as the antechamber we stand in, right down to the glass ceiling that lets in a flood of afternoon light to dance across those in attendance. It’s the far side, however, that holds my attention as we enter. An empty throne sits on a raised dais with steps leading up to it. It’s so high that the king would sit above the heads of all those standing before him, though he’s nowhere to be seen at the moment. That on its own would demand attention, but it’s the sight beyond that I yearn for a closer look at.

There is no far wall. Instead, it’s open to the elements. Dark green plants spotted with reds and oranges creep in at the edges, but beyond that, in the distance, are hills of golden sand stretching to the horizon.

The sand sea.

I’ve learned about it. Read about the great sand sea as big as our Sahara. But reading about it and seeing a glimpse of it are two entirely different things as I’m quickly learning.

In my reverie, Uncle Matias has managed to launch into a bout of praise for the fae, putting on airs for anyone close enough to hear .

“Come on.” Selena takes my hand and pulls me deeper into the crowd. “Let’s get a drink.” She halts at one of the many tables overflowing with various foods and filled glasses of sparkling beverages

“For someone who has no interest in living in Faery, you sure seem to appreciate it,” I remark.

She shrugs before plucking two champaign flutes off the table and passing one to me. “I don’t have to want to live there to appreciate what it has to offer. Being here for a few hours is tolerable. Being stuck here maybe forever?”

Selena gives a dramatic shiver.

Forever… Right, because that could happen. Not that the king has any real reason to pick someone like me. Even so, the thought turns my excitement on its head. As much as I’ve wanted to be here, to visit and see this world, the thought of forever is terrifying. I take a healthy sip from the glass, expecting the crisp bubbliness of cheap champaign and nearly choke as a symphony of flavor dances over my tongue. It’s sweet, fruity, divine…and nothing like what I expected. I nearly moan as the liquid finally slides down my throat.

I really have been missing out.

I go to take another sip, but Selena lurches forward and stops me with a hand on my arm. “Whoa! Not so much so fast.”

“You think I can’t hold my liquor?” I raise my eyebrows at her, suddenly feeling bolder than a moment ago.

“Oh, I know you can,” she says with a wink, probably remembering one of our many nights out. “But fae alcohol is different than ours. Stronger. At least for us. I’m sure I told you that, right?”

“Oh.” I frown at the glass in my hand. She probably did. I’m sure it’s in my notes somewhere, actually, but with everything else on my mind, I forgot about that. “Probably shouldn’t have taken half of it in one go then.” Especially not if I want to impress the fae and not make a fool of myself, and my family, all before the contest ever starts.

She cringes. “Probably not.”

“Maybe I’ll just…” I look for somewhere to dispose of the glass.

I spy a cluster of empty glasses on a tray and add mine to it. With something that delicious in my hand, I’d be tempted to sip it again. Even now, I feel a little pang of loss having given it up, but it’s probably for the best. I have my burst of liquid courage, and it will have to be enough.

Selena and I wander through the crowd, scoping out the competition, as it were. The potential candidates are easy enough to pick out in their elaborate gowns, fanciful updos, and flawless makeup. They’ve clearly put in the effort to be prepared. Unlike me. I pull my bottom lip between my teeth as I eye a stunning brunette whose neck is totally going to be sore by the end of the night from turning up her nose at everyone around her. Her stance is no doubt planned, letting the high slit on one side of her dress expose her leg and show off her red-bottomed designer heels.

I nearly roll my eyes at that extravagance. I may not have a lot of experience with the fae, but I’m pretty sure they don’t care about human brands. After all, they’re giving us each our own fae wardrobe, which Aunt Dalia implied was because human clothes aren’t up to fae standards.

If the king has any sense, he’ll see right past the woman’s pretty looks and see the arrogant attitude already hanging about her like a cloud.

But then, that’s never a guarantee when men are concerned, and she has no trouble getting their attention, if the swarm of fae around her are any indication.

“Cora.” Selena bites out the name. “Just ignore her. ”

When preparing for The Choosing, my uncle theorized on who my competition may be and may have used his connections to find out some of them early too. So even though I haven’t met the other women who will be my competitors, I recognize a few faces as we wander the crowd.

Alexis, a stunning Black woman with rich brown skin, stands out in a gown of gold that looks like flowing metal. Her black hair is shaved on one side, the other longer and all smoothed to one side. With her tall, athletic build, she can pull off the look with style and might be an early favorite, if not for the subtle frown on her face and crossed arms.

“Maybe she’s saving her smiles for the king?” I suggest.

“Or maybe her family chose a different competitor after all?” Selena muses.

Though how anyone could compete with her, I’m not sure. If the king favors an athlete, she’d win for sure…and I’d be out of luck.

Her stance loosens a little bit as a curvy, petite blond with pale skin and a smile as bright as her ruby gown comes to stand beside her. Familiarity tingles at the back of my mind, but I can’t place her name. Neither can Selena when I ask her.

Commotion rises behind us, like a swell of sound gently rising from the crowd until the wave catches us in its thrall and has turning toward it.

“Is it him?” a finely dressed woman nearby squeals.

My blood runs hot and cold at once. “The king?”

Breath catches in my throat as I glance at the dais and the man who hadn’t been there a few moments ago. Though I guess he’s not a man exactly.

I step in his direction, stretching on my toes to see around the people in front of me. And what I find is stunning. Warm golden skin, dark auburn hair falling past his ears to brush against his shoulders, and a jaw that’s strong but soft all at once. It might be some trick of the light, but I’d swear a soft glow radiates from his eyes. It’s hard to tell from so far away. What I can make out of his attire is just as refined as the regal angles of his face—a fitted crimson coat stitched with gold that glimmers as bright as the circlet woven through his hair.

He scans the crowd, managing to look both bored and intent all at once. His gaze passes right over me. But then he doubles back, and I’d swear our eyes catch and he stares at me. Though stares might be an understatement. It’s like he reaches across the room and demands all my focus on him.

A hot flush spreads through my chest and races up the back of my neck. This is the Court of Fire, and suddenly I’m sweltering, though I don’t think any fae magic is to blame.

“Whoa.” Selena steps into my line of sight before turning me away. “Is that a little drool I spy on your lip?”

I blink rapidly, sucking in a breath as a small shiver flows over my skin. Right, this is a game of sorts, and while catching the attention of a royal is the goal, there’s just one little problem.

That wasn’t the king on the dais but his younger half-brother, Lysandir.

Uncle Matias had given me copies of portraits of the royal family and key advisors to study. After all, my competition would know them and might even have relationships with some of them, depending on their family’s influence and their time spent in Faery. I’m already way behind, and the less I can let that show, the better.

When I’d held Lysandir’s portrait, something had spoken to me. Maybe it was that, unlike Vasilius, the king, Lysandir didn’t have as much of that cocksure arrogance to him. He seemed…approachable. I liked that and immediately thought that maybe he could be an ally in my quest to win his brother’s hand.

After all, a guy’s brother probably knows him as well as anyone, and he might be more inclined to take his advice than, say, some stuffy advisor or his stepmother. But that’s just a hunch. I’ll have to get to know them all to figure out my strategy, and goodness knows I’m going to need one. Uncle Mathias’s suggestion of playing up being the shiny new human in Faery will only get me so far. Yes, I’ll likely be a curiosity since I haven’t been at court, but that alone won’t win me the crown.

“Whew, yeah, I’m blaming the wine for that one.” I turn and head toward the edge of the room and the balcony beyond, suddenly desperate for some fresh air.

“The wine, huh?” Selena waggles her eyebrows as she catches up with me.

I manage a shrug as I keep walking. “Nothing wrong with looking.”

“Right. For like the next hour.”