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

Chapter 17

W hen you’re on the arm of the king, everyone notices. It’s a truly unnerving feeling, having so many people watch me, their whispers chasing in our wake. When I used to enter competitions, people watched me strut across the stage, but that was different. Then, I expected it, planned for it. Here, during what should be a casual and companionable stroll, it’s an annoyance at best, a distraction at worst.

I want to pay attention to Vasilius, truly I do, but my ears catch fragments of words from those we pass and my brain keeps trying to cue in on those instead of whatever he’s saying.

“Do you think we could have a seat over there?” I interject when he stops to take a breath.

A little wooden bench sits near what looks like a massive weeping willow tree, its branches draping over to sweep against the ground. It’s not exactly private, but it’s a little more concealed than most places—other than the nearby hedge maze. But people can follow us through the maze or pretend to be meandering on their own but stay on our path. Under the willow tree, no one can get that close to us without making it obvious they’re trying to eavesdrop or directly seeking our attention.

“Why not?” he replies and leads me over to the little bench.

It’s a cozy setup, which is perfect for what I have in mind. Vasilius alone takes up half of the space, and I don’t bother spreading out on my side, instead brushing up against him and staying there. From the way his face lights up, he doesn’t seem to mind. It’s a far cry from how he reacted to Katherine and Gabriella being all over him in the parlor the other night. Maybe I’m not doing so poorly after all.

“I’m honored that you came to find me.” I touch his arm, just the briefest pressure on his sleeve.

“Of course. I planned to spend some time with each of you today.” He adjusts himself on the bench, angling his body more toward mine. “Did you enjoy the game? I noticed you playing it earlier too.”

“It was all right,” I reply. “Though I’m not very good at it.”

“Oh?” One auburn brow arcs. “That last throw was excellent. You may have won that point if you’d stayed.”

The flush that rises to my cheeks is entirely real. “Thank you. I had a lot of help.” And here we are, talking about his brother. I need to alter this conversation and fast. “Though, I’m happy to give up a win to spend time with you.”

He chuckles. “I’ll remember that.”

“I hope you do,” I say honestly.

We talk about everything and nothing for a moment, and I savor it, eating it up like the refreshing cool breeze that drifts by.

When I spy a natural opening in the conversation, I take it. “I think it’s wonderful that you’re inviting some other courts to the ball.”

“Oh? Eager to meet other fae, are you?” It’s a tease from the glimmer in his eyes, but there’s a slight barb in the words that I have to shove down and push away .

“Only so much as it’s good to know one’s neighbors, so to speak. But I think it could be a really good thing for the Court of Fire to have them visit. It’s a chance to show how comfortable and competent you are in your reign. I know the courts have not mixed much in the past and relations have not always been good, but you could change that and create a new dawn for the Seelie fae.”

“A new dawn,” he muses while rubbing his chin. “I do like the sound of that.”

“And maybe it could be nice to have closer allies, especially if things with those-who-shall-not-be-named go poorly?”

A strange look crosses Vasilius’s face before he tips his head to the side and asks, “Those-who-shall-not-be-named?”

“Sorry, it’s kind of a joke from my world.” I briefly touch his leg before retracting my hand and bunching the fabric of my dress in my fingers. I drop my voice into barely a whisper. “I was referring to the Unseelie.”

“Ah.” His eyes darken. “Them. You’ll be safe here, Mira.” He pats my leg, and I nearly jump out of my skin at the unexpected touch. “Bound to me, they cannot take you away.”

Not like they did the King of Air’s mate.

He doesn’t say it, but it lingers unspoken between us.

“I know you’ll keep us safe.” It’s hard to imagine a threat out there with how calm and pleasant things are in the Court of Fire. Especially today, here in the garden, it’s as idyllic a setting as they come.

He leans back with a sigh, closes his eyes, and stretches his arms out along the back of the bench. One brushes along my shoulder in the process, and I sit a little straighter, my abs tensing.

“If only all of my advisors had your confidence,” he laments.

“They wouldn’t be very good counsel if they always agreed with you though. ”

A light huff of air escapes through his nose. Vasilius turns his head my way and opens his eyes. “I suppose not.”

“It must be hard to be a king.” I lean in to him just a little. “Trying to balance everyone’s expectations and still do what you think is best in your heart.”

“You have no idea.” He sighs. “Speaking of, it would be nice to stay here and relax, but I still have a few others I need to spend some time with.”

“Oh.” My stomach drops straight to the ground. “So soon?”

“I do wish I could stay here longer,” he adds, sitting up a little in the seat. It’s the rebound I need, the boost of courage for what I’d planned.

“Before you go…” I place my hand on his leg and leave it there this time as I pull my bottom lip between my teeth. “You see, I’ve been hoping…”

“Yes?” He leans in, mirth sparkling in his eyes. That outstretched arm of his curls in just a bit, urging me closer, and I go, leaning in until his scent fills my nose and my heart tries to pound straight through my ribs.

“Can I kiss you?” I blurt.

The corners of his lips curl up into a blinding smile. “I believe I would enjoy that.”

I swallow and lick my lips. “Ah, good.” My pitch rises as I sit a little straighter. “I’ll just…”

I lean in all too awkwardly, a nervous laugh climbing up my throat. Shit. It was supposed to be natural.

Vasilius laughs, and before I have the time to consider whether it’s at me or with me, he tugs me closer, cups my cheek with his free hand, and leans in to place his lips against mine .

My hand falls to his shirt, which does nothing to hide the rigid planes of muscle below. He’s so warm, his spicy scent filling my nose. His lips are against mine, and at that moment, I feel…

Nothing.

Absolutely nothing.

Well, that’s not entirely true. I feel like a teenager just learning to kiss again, all awkward and unsure of how I’m supposed to move and wondering if my breath smells bad. But the butterflies that I just knew would be there, that have been there the few times we’ve touched before?

They fall still and silent as death.

Vasilius gives a little groan of pleasure. His head tilts to the side as he moves to deepen the kiss, the tip of his tongue flicking against the seam of my lips.

My eyes are wide open—God, why are they open?—but his are closed, as if he’s enjoying this, as if he feels something, even if I do not. And he’s the king. I’m supposed to want this.

I do want it. Or I did.

I’m trying to become his wife, for goodness sake. I have to want him.

So, I part my lips, close my eyes, and try to enjoy the kiss, to forget that he’s a king and there are probably people watching and just enjoy sharing this moment with someone. And maybe, for a brief moment, I’m successful. But the next thing I know, he’s pulling back, his hand falling away from my face, and I can finally breathe again.

I pry my eyes open again and force a smile to my face. Vasilius looks me up and down with his hooded gaze, his attention so strong it’s almost a caress in itself.

He has to know it wasn’t great, right? Maybe he’s just good at faking it ?

“Well now,” he says, “I will certainly remember that.”

I force my smile wider and tuck a strand of hair behind my ears before glancing away. Remember it in a good way or a bad way? I want to ask, but don’t.

“Thank you,” I whisper, at a loss for words. All I want to do is run and hide, but there’s no hiding from a king. Not to mention that it would go against my plans.

Damn it all to hell, how am I supposed to keep going with them now?

Vasilius takes my hand in his and places a kiss on the back.

“Of course,” he says, exuding all his gentlemanly manner. Finally, he rises to his feet. He says something else by way of farewell, but I completely miss the words. They’re drowned out by the pounding of my pulse in my ears, the panic rising in my brain, and the effort of keeping my smile in place.

Distantly, I watch him leave, counting the seconds until I can flee.

The number is entirely too low when I stand and make a beeline for the hedge maze, doing everything in my power not to run and not to look back.