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

Chapter 6

W e spend the afternoon taking turns with the fae tailors who will be designing our wardrobe for the duration of the competition…and hopefully after. It’s a weird feeling being measured this way, but pointing out colors and styles I like? Having someone suggest shapes, styles, and fabrics that would best suit my body type? That’s amazing. A bubble of giddy excitement lodges itself in my chest and doesn’t abate. It probably won’t until I get to see what they come up with, and it may not even then. Perfectly tailored clothes—fae clothes with their impossibly soft yet sturdy and vibrant materials—are a luxury I’ve never had.

When we’re not with the tailors, we all hang out in a large and luxurious parlor of sorts. Fine furnishings like something out of a French castle provide numerous seating options. A table is set with snacks and drinks. There are even a few fae board games and pleasant fae music performed by a trio of musicians in the corner. Still, the lack of windows makes the room a bit stifling—that, and the lack of any kind of direction. This rooms is ours to enjoy, but we’re supposed to just…what? Hang out?

Each time the door opens, everyone stops and looks. But thus far, it hasn’t been the person I’d guess we’re all waiting on. The king. And the longer the evening wears on, the more certain I am he’s not going to show.

“It’s got to be close to dinner,” Grace laments with a pout. “Do you think we’ll dine with the king?” she asks no one in particular. She’s stretched out on the sofa, her bare feet nearly brushing Alexis’s leg where she sits on the other end, though Alexis—or Alex as she likes to be called—doesn’t seem to mind. The two are friends and have been for years from what I’ve gathered. Grace’s discarded flats sit side by side next to her end of the sofa.

“I doubt it,” I grumble. If so, I’m sure they would have ushered us off to be dressed and primped or something, but that hasn’t happened.

Adeline occupies the chair next to mine and across from the sofa that Grace and Alex take up. “Well, let’s see,” she says. She closes the book she was reading and pulls something from her pocket. It’s not until she flips open the little brass cover that I realize what it is, a pocket watch. Her lips draw thin before she frowns. “It’s later than I thought.”

“That thing works here?” I lean over my armrest to get a closer look.

“It does.” She pushes a lock of dark brown hair behind her ear before leaning closer, her often shy countenance bright with excitement. “It’s been in my family for generations and is purely mechanical, not like the electric ones made today.”

“That’s clever.” Grace sits up and leans toward us.

“It is.” Adeline nods. “I wish I could take credit, but it was my grandmother’s idea. She used it when she visited Faerie in her younger days. She said it helped her retain a sense of normalcy.”

Grace gives a wistful sigh and flops back onto the cushions. “I do already miss my phone. I feel so…detached.”

I nod along in echo of her sentiment. I keep finding myself searching for my phone and having a moment of panic before I realize it’s not lost, simply not here at all. I tried to wean myself off of it before the competition, but it was just so dang convenient. And addictive, let’s not forget that.

The door to the room opens, and we all turn. A guard holds it open as several fae enter carrying large platters of food.

“I’d guess that’s dinner.” Alexis shoves to her feet with a sigh. “I’m outta here.”

“Alex,” Grace calls after her, but she just stalks toward the door.

“We can just go?” Adeline asks, watching her leave.

Alex says something to the guard at the doors and walks out, her own personal guard separating from where she’d been leaning on the wall and hustling after her.

I shrug. “I guess so.”

And if she’s going, so am I. I’ve been grazing on the assortment of foods in the room all afternoon and have no appetite for anything else. Besides, I might go a little crazy if I have to sit here any longer. Conversation dried up an hour ago, and I didn’t think to bring a book in here with me like Adeline.

I stand and gather my notebook from the side table.

“You too?” Grace pouts. I do feel a little bad that we’re all abandoning her. Adeline has already gone back to her book. But if the king isn’t coming, nor anyone else, I’m wasting valuable time I could use for something else…if they’ll let me.

“I’ll see you all tomorrow,” I say.

Tharin isn’t one of the guards hanging out in the room, but I’d wager he’s somewhere nearby, probably even more bored out of his mind than we are.

“Giving up on the king already?” Cora quips as I pass by her chair, not bothering to look up from where she idly paints her nails. I swear she’s been working on the damn things for over an hour.

I halt and turn to her, waiting until she finally bothers to look at me. When she does, I grin. “Hardly.”

I don’t wait for a response before striding to the door.

The guard doesn’t even stop me. Two others linger in the hall with Tharin.

“Lady Mira,” he says as I approach.

“Are we allowed to go other places in the palace?” I ask. “I was hoping someone could show me to the library.” Best not to make any assumptions. “If we’re allowed to go there, that is.”

Elaine might not have remembered much of anything about the competition she won due to that damnable effect Faery can have on human memory, but I’d bet it’s recorded somewhere, probably many somewheres. The fae keep excellent records, and I’ve heard the Court of Fire’s capital library is breathtaking.

The hint of a grin pulls at the corner of his mouth like I’ve said something funny. “Of course. And an excellent choice. I would have suggested that, had you asked.” He gives a sweeping gesture toward one end of the hall. “Right this way.”

The walk to the library passes quickly, a few turns, a long hallway, and then we’re there. Thank goodness for that, because everywhere we go, the fae we pass stare at me like I’m an A-list celebrity. I suppose I might be if I achieve my goal, but the feeling is still odd and uncomfortable, especially after a life of blending in as best as I could back in my world.

Tharin shows me into the library, and the sight that unfurls before me roots me in place just inside the threshold. It’s not just big. It’s huge. Bookshelves soar up entirely too high in a room that’s probably three stories tall. A balcony walk rings the room about halfway up the wall providing access to higher levels. They even have those moveable ladders on rails. Fae lights float near the ceiling like giant firelights, illuminating the place in a pleasant, dim light, soothing yet bright enough to read by.

“Incredible.” I gape, turning a half circle to take it all in.

“It is quite lovely.”

I glance over and catch him smiling as he eyes the place, as if he’s seeing it in a new light.

“Is there a particular section you’re looking for?” he asks.

“I hoped to learn more about previous Choosings.” Though now that I’ve seen this place, I really want to see every inch of it.

“Ah.” His brows rise. “An apt subject. The head scholar has probably left by now.” He leans in as if to whisper a secret. “She prefers mornings.” He winks. “Though I think…” He trails off, glancing down some rows to my left. “I think you may find some helpful books over here.”

He leads me to a few rows into the heart of the library. Oddly, we only pass one other fae, but maybe that’s because it’s dinner time. We turn down a row of books, and Tharin stops near the middle.

“You might find what you’re looking for around here. The books spelled for humans are marked with this symbol.” He taps a finger on the spine of a book, right over a crimson diamond.

“Well, that’s helpful,” I say. And it will narrow things down quite a bit since only one in a handful appear to bear that mark, at least in this section.

“Would you like me to stay with you?”

“No thank you,” I reply too quickly. I’m in desperate need of some breathing room. Not that I’m a recluse, not really, but being around people all day—especially so many of them—can drain me. “It’s a library,” I add to soften my response. “I’m sure I’m safe. Nothing bad ever happens in a library. ”

I don’t miss the way he’s suddenly taken aback, his brows scrunching. He clearly isn’t used to humans and our ability to lie, however benign that lie is. Something bad almost certainly has happened in a library at some point.

“Ah,” he says after a moment and shakes his head. “You humans and your strange statements.”

I guess it is strange to him. “I’ll let you know if I need anything.”

He nods. “Then I’ll wait outside.”

When he finally leaves, it feels like someone has loosened the fit of my dress and I can breathe again. I’ll probably have to get used to being around people constantly if—no, when —I become queen, but for now, it’s a relief to have a moment alone.

I select a few books with promising titles that bear the crimson diamond and settle into a vacant seating area between two curved bookcases. The first one I look through is interesting but entirely too old to be relevant, though the book itself looks hardy without a bit of the brittle, delicate pages I’d expect in a human book. I’ve just opened up the second when a voice startles me from my inquiry.

“What a surprise to find you here.”

I nearly jump out of my skin as I twist around in my seat and spy the intruder.

Lysandir. God, of course it would be him.

He’s dressed the same as earlier today wearing an impeccable vest of crimson and gold over a pale shirt tucked into black pants. He’s the picture of refined yet casual, almost like a businessman who has shed his jacket, loosened his tie, and had just slid up to the bar for a drink.

“Same,” I snap before I can think better of it.

His brows rise. So does one corner of his lips .

“You decided not to wait and see if my brother planned to pay you all a visit this evening?” He crosses his arms and tilts his head to the side appraisingly.

I close the book with a thump and settle it in my lap. “I assumed he wasn’t coming.”

“No, most likely not.” He lets his arms fall free before striding toward the seating area. “He’s occupied with some urgent news this evening.”

I stiffen, sitting a little straighter as he comes around the back of my seat and claims the chair next to mine as if he plans to settle in and sit for a while. At least it’s good to know that the king isn’t avoiding us on purpose. Maybe the rumors about him not being interested in humans are wrong after all. A girl can hope, right? If he’s busy with something important, that’s totally reasonable.

“And you’re not needed with him?” I refuse to look him in the face. Doing so, this close, does something in my chest that I don’t really care to analyze right now.

“He already has my advice.” He frowns and looks away. “Not that he’ll heed it,” he says a little more quietly.

Interesting. “And so, you thought you’d stalk me down instead?” I prod. “How did you even know I was here?”

The hint of a smirk lifts one corner of his lips. “I heard you.” He taps his ears. “Fae hearing is quiet sensitive, mine more than most.”

Of course it is. I bite the inside of my cheek to avoid saying so out loud. “And to what do I owe the pleasure of your company?” I ask, only a little bit sarcastically. “It can’t be to ask me to leave again because of course you know I can’t.”

I raise my wrist for emphasis, the binding mark on clear display.

“No, quite the opposite.” He leans back against the cushions, appraising me. “I’m glad you’re here. ”

I rear back like I’ve been struck. That makes no sense at all.

“So, you’ve come to apologize then?” These aren’t things I should say to a member of the royal family, Vasilius’s brother for goodness sake, but I can’t seem to help it. The words just keep coming and show no signs of slowing down and my cheek already stings from trying to hold them back. Of course all the patience I’ve honed at my job decides to abandon me in my moment of need.

He opens his mouth like he might actually apologize but then closes it, his lips settling into a thin line. “I cannot do that either.”

Can’t. Not won’t. I don’t miss the clever wording. He’s not sorry, though the reasoning or lack thereof is enough to drive me mad.

I’d always heard that Lysandir was not like his brother. A bit quieter and more introspective. Slow to act and measured in his words. But his actions toward me have been anything but. He has unique gifts too, even for a fae, including the ability to sometimes glimpse things in the future, but no one ever told me that list included making things as awkward as possible for unsuspecting human women.

“May I ask you a question, Lady Mira?”

At the use of that title, I cross one leg over the other, sitting up more primly. “I do believe you just did.”

A huff of air slips from his nose. Lysandir rises from his chair, and despite the little smirk on his features, a tiny thread of panic in the back of my mind warns me that I might have taken it too far. A potentially damaging move for my goals. Instead, he lifts the chair with seeming ease, despite its hefty bulk. It’s the twin of mine, which didn’t move a bit when I sat none to delicately, and I’m pretty sure I’d have to throw all my weight against the back just to slide it across the ground, forget lifting it .

He settles back into the chair, but this time he’s staring straight at me. “You’ve never been to Faery before, correct?”

“That’s right.” There’s no way he forgot that little detail.

“So why this desire to marry a male you’ve never met?” He leans forward, settling his elbows on his knees, his hands draped over one another between his spread legs. “Unless your focus isn’t him but the crown?”

I flinch. Damn if he’s not right though. It’s not just about the man, but also the title, horrible as that is. Granted, I’ve had plenty of time to learn about the king, to appreciate his qualities and daydream about his portrait. I am interested in him. But it’s the crown my uncle wants me to secure. It’s my family name that I’m supposed to improve.

There’s no way I can say that to the prince though. He’d hate me even more than he already does.

“Are you saying it’s impossible to develop affection for someone from afar?” I ask, deflecting. “Can you not hear about them or read about them and develop an appreciation and admiration for them?” Vasilius isn’t perfect. No fae or human is. However, he leads his people well, is strong, handsome, respected—all admirable qualities. And then there’s Faery, a dreamland that actually exists. “Maybe so much so that you feel compelled to venture to a new land that you’ve always longed to visit anyway, just to see if they could be your perfect match?”

“Then why haven’t you?”

“Why haven’t I what?”

“Visited before.” He tilts his head, and that long, dark red hair slips over one shoulder. “If you longed to visit Faery, why not come?”

My lips purse of their own accord. Because before I could run off on my own, Uncle Matias spotted an opportunity: an unmarried king on the throne with an aging mother who wants him wed to a human. The certainty of a Choosing was too much for him to resist. So, he decided I’d enter for our family, and he already had the perfect leverage in my mother and brothers.

“You never answered my question,” I say instead. “It’s rude to ask another without answering mine first.”

His settles back into the cushion chair, his gaze never leaving mine. The silence that hangs between us is even heavier than his stare, so much that I think he won’t answer. The weight of it presses on my chest and makes me fight the urge to squirm or get up and run away.

“Yes, Mira.” The way my name rolls off his tongue, so full, rich, and deep, has a pleasant warmth crawling up the base of my neck. “I do think it’s possible to love from afar. To be so enraptured by the thought and dream of someone that you’ll rush headlong into something in desperation just to brush the edge of your imaginings.” His fingers flex on the cushioned armrests as if he’s holding himself still with effort. “Is that love? Or obsession? Perhaps an emotion caught somewhere between?”

Suddenly I have a feeling we’re not talking about me anymore. His answer is too deep, too well thought out, as if it’s something he’s mused entirely too many times. I swallow the tightness in my throat and tear my gaze away, staring at nothing on the bookshelf behind him.

“You see, Mira.” His name calls my attention, demands it. “Love can be a beautiful thing. But sometimes it’s coated in so much desperation and longing, and that it can drive someone to do quite reckless things.”

He shoves himself up from the chair and stalks to mine in two quick steps, so fast I barely have time to gasp before he’s right in front of me, filling my vision. His imposing figure towers over me. Subtle spicy notes cling to his masculine scent that envelops me like a warm blanket. And then he’s leaning down, his palms coming to land on the edge of the armrests, his legs nearly brushing mine where they’re half curled under me on the chair. I don’t breathe—can’t. He’s everywhere, stealing every rational thought from my brain.

“Should I worry about you doing something reckless, Mira?”

My body goes hot and cold all at once. My God. If he stares at me like that a moment longer, I might do something reckless, and it won’t be something that will earn me any favors with Vasilius.

Someone clears their throat behind me, and Lysandir retreats, stepping back as if he hadn’t just been inches away from me.

I whip my head around to find Tharin standing a few feet away. A bit of the tension stiffening my spine retreats.

“I am checking in to see if you need anything,” Tharin says.

Lysandir surely won’t do anything with him here, and the wash of sanity that has returned with him is enough to ground me too.

“My prince?” Tharin asks, looking from me to the fae male who’s retreated to his former seat, one leg crossed over the other in a casual pose that I might assume he’s been in for a while if I hadn’t just seen otherwise.

“No, thank you.” Lysandir waves a dismissive hand. “I seized the opportunity to get to know one of our candidates a bit better.”

That’s what you’re calling it? I glance in his direction, and though his attention is fully focused on Tharin, I’d swear I can feel the weight of his regard, the challenge to say anything.

“I’m happy to stay here with Mira and escort her back to her rooms later if you have other matters to attend to,” Lysandir continues.

I’m on my feet so fast I nearly drop the book still cradled in my arms.

“That’s all right,” I force out in my calmest voice. “I was just about to retire back to my room. Maybe I can take this with me?” I hold up the book.

Tharin gives Lysandir a reproachful look, surprising, given his station, before addressing me. “Of course,” he says. “I will show you the way.” He turns to Lysandir and gives a bow. “My prince.”

Lysandir nods in return, and we turn to leave. But just before we round the bookshelf out of sight, his voice catches me and pulls me to a standstill. “Goodnight, Lady Mira. I look forward to speaking with you more.”

My teeth slam together, and I inhale a sharp breath. Be courteous. Be calm.

I turn toward him slowly. “Goodnight, Prince Lysandir.”