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

Chapter 21

F or three days, I don’t see Lysandir. We receive little news about the Unseelie attack, other than there were limited casualties and the wards that protect the court have been restored.

Worse, I have another one-on-one date with the king. It was as painful as I feared, trying to pretend to be into him and enjoying myself when most of my thoughts were with his brother somewhere at the edge of the territory. The king invited me to watch a performance by some fae dancers. Thoughtful, actually, though as I feared, they’re definitely better than me. At least we didn’t have to talk much though—or rather, I didn’t have to hear more hunting stories.

At the end of the date, when he leaned in for a kiss, I successful faked a yawn and managed to ask enough questions to distract him from trying again. If I were to go simply by logic, I probably should have kissed him. It was expected. It’s weird that I didn’t. But I just couldn’t bring myself to.

I twirl one of the pens Lysandir gave me between my fingers, watching the ink shimmer in the light from the fae lamp on my desk. I’d started to write in my notebook. Stopped. Started again. And then stopped once more when it became clear my thoughts were a jumbled mess not deserving of being written down.

Did Lysandir get my thank you letter yet? Does he know how much I like the gift? Probably not. When I cornered Tharin earlier and asked directly if Prince Lysandir had returned, he told me that he hadn’t, but not to worry, that the prince was capable and would be fine.

My cheeks flame at the memory. He had the nerve to smirk about it too, like he knew exactly what I was asking and why. A good guard should be observant, but I could use a little less inspection on that front. Though if he suspects something, at least he hasn’t told anyone about it. That I know of anyway.

A knock sounds at my door, and I jump in my seat. The pen slips and nearly clatters to the tabletop before I grab it at the last moment. Lucky save . I sigh to myself and place it back in its holder.

“Come in!” I call to whoever is at the door. I expect Fia or one of the guards, but that’s not who enters.

“Hey, Mira,” Grace calls in her cheery voice as she saunters into the room.

“Evening,” Alex says before closing the door behind her.

It’s after dinner, but these two aren’t dressed for bed. The opposite actually. My brows pinch as I take them in. Grace’s hair definitely wasn’t that perfectly wavy earlier this evening, nor was she wearing the gorgeous, flowing gown she has on now, which flutters with the colors of sunset. Alex’s heels give her a few extra inches—not that she needs them, tall as she already is—and her sleek one-shoulder romper screams of a night at the club.

But I know I didn’t get the date wrong. The ball is tomorrow. Vasilius has been busy greeting arrivals from the other courts, and we’ve all been tucked carefully away in the parlor, bored out of our minds. Hence why I retreated early.

“What are y’all up to?” I ask as Grace plops unceremoniously on my bed, bouncing a little on the edge of the soft mattress.

“Do you want to ask her, or should I?” Grace asks Alex.

The latter crosses her arms and leads against the post of my canopy bed. “This was your idea.”

“Well”—Grace wags a finger at her—“if we’re being accurate, it was really Cora’s idea.”

“Cora?” I rock back in my seat. Not the person I would expect Grace and Alex to be going along with. In fact, I was pretty sure they disliked her as much as me. Did something change?

Grace shrugs. “Okay, so I don’t normally like her, but this totally sounded like a good idea, and you know how boring things have been lately.”

That I do. “So, what is it?”

She glances at Alex again, and when she remains silent, Grace continues, “We’re going to crash a pre-ball party!” She squeals. “Aaaand we thought you might come with us?”

“To a party,” I echo, slightly dumb founded. “We’re allowed to go?”

At this, Alex finally unfurls her arms and leans off the post. “Apparently so. There was one last night for early arrivals, and Cora, Katherine, and Gabriella all went.”

“It’s a good chance to meet other fae. They’ll be mostly Fire Court, but there might be other courts too. We got the impression this is a regular thing.” Grace talks with her hands, moving them around in front of her like an orchestra conductor. “Anyhow, we can’t all marry the king, so it can’t hurt to meet other fae and keep our options open, as it were. ”

“Better than our families demanding we return after this is over,” Alex mutters.

Grace winces. “Right. If we have connections here, it’s easier to argue staying.”

“The fae want humans here. Why would they ever kick us out?” I ask. It makes no sense.

In fact, it’s a wonder they don’t just outright demand that we all stay and pair us off with other powerful fae after the king has taken his pick. It would make sense for the good of their court. Though I suppose that could offend humans, and that’s the last thing they want to do. Piss off gifted humans who could withdraw their willingness to come and turn off the tap on their magic, just like was done to the Court of the Forest generations ago? No fae wants that.

I’m still stewing over the possibilities when Alex speaks again.

“The fae wouldn’t. Never. But families like ours…” She looks at Grace, and something passes between the two of them. “I’m sure you have an idea of how they can be. ‘Everything for the good of the family, the coven,’” she says in a fake deep voice. “‘If you can’t secure a good match in Faery, then return here and continue the line.’”

Grace sighs, her normal spark suddenly dim. “I’m not sure how it is for you, but my family didn’t want me to come here. They wanted a cousin of mine to come instead. Pretty, graceful.” She sneers. “Skinny.”

“So, if you don’t land the king, they’ll be disappointed and insist you return?” I ask.

She huffs. “I don’t think there’s much chance of him picking me, but if we make a good impression and some of the other fae are interested, at least we should get to stay.” She glances up at Alex, who nods, solemnly. “Anyhow—” She shoves off the bed, her tone turning light again. “Do you want to come? Solidarity in numbers and all that?”

Would Uncle Matias demand that I return if I fail to woo the king? He’d be disappointed for sure. He might take that out on my mom and brothers—financially anyway. But if I could catch Lysandir’s eye, if the prince possibly feels just a little bit of what I do, could that soften my uncle’s ire? A prince is still an amazing catch, right?

My mind picks that moment to taunt me, reminding me of something I’ve been trying very hard to forget. Lysandir mentioned already having feelings for someone, even if said woman hasn’t returned them. If he’s loved for so long, would there be room for someone else? He definitely kissed me back, but it’s possible to kiss people you don’t care for. I would know.

The truth is, I don’t know how Lysandir feels. I can hope all day. I can want and pine and all the things, but who knows when I’ll even get to see him again. The king could make his choice tomorrow, and this whole thing could end.

And even if he doesn’t, Lysandir’s heart may already belong to someone else.

“All right, let me get changed,” I say.

Grace claps her hands and bounces in place. “See? I told you Mira would come with us.”