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

Chapter 16

T he king elects to invite our families to attend the ball. I’m not surprised. No one seems interested in spilling their vote, so I don’t know if his decision aligns with ours but assume it probably does. Lying in my bed last night, thinking about my mother and brothers, I realized how much I missed them. Selena too. I could do without seeing my aunt and uncle, but the others? Yes, it’s a risk. Something bad could happen. But bad things can happen just walking up the stairs, driving down the road, or anything else. If I could see my mother, I wouldn’t want to miss out on that chance because of fear. Not that I can, since she’s not gifted, but I wouldn’t want to deny others feeling the same way the chance to see their parents or loved ones. So, I gave Fia my vote of yes and didn’t doubt it later.

Thinking about my family also reminded me why I’m here: to become the queen, to win the king’s heart and his hand. I wish I could say I feel like it’s going well, but I’m not sure. The king has seemed pleased enough with me in meetings, he liked my dancing, and he did kiss my hand. We haven’t yet shared a more passionate kiss like Bailey alluded to, but the keyword is yet .

Today, we’re attending a party in the gardens, and I intend to use it to my advantage. I refuse to lose out on becoming his queen and disappoint my family simply because I didn’t try hard enough. I won’t let Uncle Matias say I didn’t represent us well or didn’t do enough for him to keep caring for my mother and brothers. It may be an awkward event again with all of us trying to get his attention, but I’m determined to find a way.

When the sun is high in the sky, our guards shift us all to a garden I haven’t been to before. Situated near what must be the edge of the capital city, given the glowing forest that’s visible beyond a high stone wall some distance away, the space puts every botanical garden I’ve ever visited to shame. A wide, grassy oval dominates the middle of the space, large gurgling fountains with dancing water on either end. Beds of roses, sculpted bushes, and more of the court’s famed glass sculptures surround the oval, interspersed with walking paths and spotted with benches. Trellises give bits of shade here and there, and off to one side stretches a hedge maze, the walls too high for anyone to see over. A large tent has been erected in the middle of the oval, tables and chairs spotted underneath.

Fae in fine, flowing clothes of all colors wander the space, most chatting in small groups. A few notice our arrival and openly turn to stare.

“Wow, this is just like my cousin’s wedding last summer,” Katherine replies, wandering ahead of our group into the garden.

“Oh, I’m sure.” Alex rolls her eyes and whispers, just loud enough for Grace and me to hear where we flank her.

Grace covers her laugh. “It does feel like something out of a movie though. ‘Oh, excuse me, Your Majesty, while I spin my parasol.’” She mimics the action and a British accent. “‘I think I dropped my handkerchief. Can you pick it up for me?’”

“Don’t let the king hear that,” Bailey admonishes.

Vasilius must be here somewhere, but I haven’t spied him yet among all the others. Given how expansive the gardens are, the towering hedges, and willow-like trees draping long branches, it’d be easy for him to be obscured from view.

Cora practically elbows past and comes to stand with her hands on her hips, surveying the scene. “It does have a Bridgerton feel to it.”

We all give her a sideways glance.

“What? I watched the show.” She shrugs. “Every season.” And then she turns, her nose in the air, and strides toward the tent like it was erected just for her.

“Do you think that’s where she learned to act like a spoiled rich girl?” Grace whispers, though not too quietly.

“Act?” Alex asks with a laugh. “More like came by it honestly.”

It’s tempting to seek out Vasilius directly, but I’m sure at least half the other women plan to do the exact same thing. I’m better off waiting and chatting with some of the other fae. Actually, the best would be if I could make Vasilius envious and get him to come to me, but that’s probably hoping for too much.

No matter what, I plan to find time to steal him away today. Maybe we’ll slip into the hedge maze, or maybe I can even get him to take me somewhere else where we can be alone. He needs to know that I want to be his queen, and if he’s already sharing real kisses with the others, then I need him to have one with me too, even if I have to initiate. What’s that old song? Something about the truth being in his kiss? Maybe it’ll be the spark we need to get things rolling.

I join a lawn game similar to bocce with a number of the fae in attendance. I’m terrible at it, though they have the courtesy not to mention that. Whether from experience or natural fae grace and skill, these fae can land the little balls exactly where they want them to go, and mine… Well, I’m lucky I haven’t hurt anyone yet.

“It’s your turn, Lady Mira,” one of the males says with a smirk, having just placed his ball within about two centimeters of the target. As if I could beat that. My best bet is to try to knock his away, though at this distance, that’s going to be a challenge and he knows it.

“Well, I’ll just have to give it my best then.” I give a little laugh and flash a blinding smile. Trying to be social with people I don’t know is its own kind of hell, but hey, I’m trying. The little flute of fae wine I sipped earlier helps too. I’m not above liquid courage, especially where crowds are involved.

I step up to the line and look over one shoulder to where Vasilius was a moment ago, hoping to snag his attention. My fake smile slips away. Drat. I have no idea where he went off to.

“Mind if I join the next round?” says an unexpected voice.

I whirl toward it, my heart giving a fervent thump against my ribs. Lysandir meanders through the nearby fae, the sunlight catching on his long hair, which he’s left unbound to fall around his shoulders. The outfit he’s chosen for today is very similar to the one his brother wore the day before with a loose, white tunic whose sleeves are rolled up to his elbows and a slit at the top that shows off a hint of tanned chest more sculpted than I anticipated. Not that I thought him unfit, not by any means, but he’s less obvious about it than his brother. More the scholar than the fighter, but damn… All I can do is blink. He’s not the royal I was searching for, but my mind trips over itself in his presence anyway, rending me momentarily speechless.

The nearby fae I’ve been playing with titter with excitement.

“We’d love to have you join, my prince,” one female replies, her eyes practically sparkling with mirth .

“Well, Lady Mira?” His nose twitches, humor lighting in his features like he knows exactly what his sudden appearance has done to me.

“Of course,” I reply with a nervous laugh. “I’m about to lose this round anyway.”

I turn and toss my ball toward the target, completely forgetting that I was going to knock my opponents out of the way. It lands an embarrassing three feet away.

“See?” I gesture toward it. “My team lost, so now we can start again.”

“Hmm.” He grips his chin, his thumb underneath while the knuckle of his pointer finger runs across his lips in a way that’s utterly distracting. “Can I be on your team for this round?”

I laugh. “So eager to lose?”

The other fae I was playing with work to collect the little balls and targets and bring them back so that we can start a new round.

“I think you have potential,” he says. “Besides, have you ever played this game before?”

“No. We have something similar in my world, but I only played it a few times.” Once actually. Someone brought it over to my aunt and uncle’s house during a get together, but we only played a little bit before my aunt lamented we might leave divots in her perfectly manicured lawn. I almost roll my eyes thinking about it. She gets bent out of shape about the most random and ridiculous things.

“I’ll partner with Mira for this round.” Lysandir holds out his hands to the returning fae, and they pass him the four little balls for our team.

Lysandir takes his place at my side as one of the fae males set out the targets. I barely notice where they’re placed. Tingling warmth radiates from the side closest to him, almost like we’re magnets being pulled together. I pounce on my feet, the wide heels of my shoes sinking into the grass.

“The trick,” he says in a whisper, “is to throw the ball in an arch so it stays where it lands and doesn’t roll away. Unless, of course, you go second and decide to try to knock away your opponent’s ball. Then a hard and direct roll is best.”

I turn my head and crane my neck to look up at him. The gentle breeze blows his hair, a few strands brushing against my cheek due to his nearness. With it comes his scent, a heady mix of leather and spice that has my toes curling.

“You make it sound so easy,” I say.

“Sometimes the simplest things are the hardest, but I like a good challenge.” A hint of amusement twinkles in his eyes, and I don’t think we’re talking about the ball game anymore.

I step back, putting some much needed space between us. Spending time with him in the library was comfortable. Easy. This is… I don’t know what this is.

“Well then,” I say, “why don’t you show me how it’s done?”

His lips quirk up in the corners, and he steps up to the mark. With three balls balanced in one hand and the one he plans to use in the other, he gives it a toss. It sails through the air in a perfect arc, landing with a soft thud. Right next to the target.

“Show-off,” I mumble.

“Would you like some help?” he offers once it’s my turn.

I glower at him. But then I remember that getting on his bad side isn’t going to earn me any points with his brother, so I relent with a sigh. He did help me with preparing for the council meeting after all. Maybe he can work some magic here too.

“Sure, why not?” I say .

He drops two of the balls and passes the remaining one to me. Our fingers brush in the process, a little jolt zipping up my arm at the fleeting connection. Weird.

“Okay, so—” he starts.

My breath hitches as he comes up behind me, cupping my hand with his so that our arms are flush with one another. Butterflies erupt in my stomach.

Lysandir leans in, his hair brushing my cheek. “Pull your arm back like this.” He does it for the both of us. “Now, when we go forward, let go of the ball the moment I release your hand.”

Such a simple instruction, yet it feels like a monumental task that I’m bound to screw up. “Um, okay.”

“Here, let’s practice. I’ll tap your hand instead of releasing it this time.”

He swings our joined hands, tapping his fingers against mine when we’re about forty-five degrees past my legs. “There, just that speed. Are you ready?”

“S-sure.”

Gosh, did I really just stutter?

We swing the ball back again, and this time, when he releases my hand, I release the ball and slam my eyes shut. I suck in a breath. Hold it.

“Excellent.” His heavy palm lands on my bare shoulder, and my lids fly open. I twist to look at him, blowing out the breath I was holding. Lysandir grins down at me, still touching my shoulder. “Look at that, right near the target.”

Is it? I turn back to the game.

“Wow.” Only an inch or two away. It’s far closer than I ever managed on my own.

A loud, slow clap comes from somewhere nearby. Those near us step back and give a little bow .

“Very nice,” Vasilius says.

In a flash, Lysandir’s hand is gone, and the warmth of his nearness vanishes. I twist around, nearly getting tangled up in the skirts of my dress.

How long has Vasilius been there? It can’t have been long, but his relaxed stance says he didn’t just arrive. He crosses his tanned arms, his loose cream sleeves once again rolled up to his elbows. A piece of crimson clothing somewhere between a cape and a jacket hangs off his shoulders, the edges secured by a golden chain that drapes across his collarbone.

“Somehow my brother seems to be better at finding my bride candidates than I am.” He laughs, others around him following suit.

Candidates? Plural? My brows pinch, and a hint of jealousy flares in my chest. Who else has Lysandir been hanging out with? Not that it’s any of my business or that I should care. Of course he should be getting to know the others—that only makes sense—but my body’s reactions rarely have anything to do with reason.

Lysandir somehow finds a way to put more space between us without moving, which only makes the flush creeping up my neck burn hotter.

I force a bright smile to my face. “Would you like to join us, Your Majesty?”

When Vasilius glances toward the balls, his smile drops.

I immediately switch tactics. “Or maybe we could take a walk, just you and me? I’d love to see more of the gardens.”

“Then by all means, let me show them to you.” He extends his arm in a courtly gesture, and I loop mine through it.

“Thank you for the instruction,” I say to Lysandir over one shoulder.

No emotion crosses his face as he nods our way. “Anytime, Mira.”

I turn my attention back to the king. “Shall we?”