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

Chapter 22

I f someone would have told me months ago that the fae had night clubs, I’d have laughed my ass off. That totally wasn’t covered in the coven’s records. It didn’t fit any of my imaginings either, which were mostly painted in my mind as magical, willowy settings with soaring ceilings, colorful flora, and tall, graceful fae floating about like celestial beings. And truthfully, a lot of Faery has been like that. But tonight, I’ve learned that Faery contains multitudes, and some of them aren’t that different from the human realm at all.

Drinks are free for humans—an especially dangerous temptation when they’re all glasses of bubbly fae wine that are way stronger than the human variety—the lights have been turned down low, and well-clad fae mingle on onyx floors shot through with ribbons of crimson. The room would be spacious if not crammed with people. The low ceiling doesn’t help the feeling either. In fact, it’s the opposite of many rooms here, in that it’s more contained and enclosed with solid walls, save the far one which leads onto a terrace and down into one of the many courtyards.

True to what the others said, the guards don’t stop us from coming, though Tharin gives me a disapproving look and follows closely after us. He’s been lingering against the wall the whole time we’ve been here too, along with another of our guards. I suppose they want to make sure no one gets too cozy with the king’s potential brides, which is totally fair.

If Grace and Alex were worried about finding an interested fae, they shouldn’t be. It doesn’t seem to matter that we may be the king’s intended. Many of the fae here are more than eager to spend time with us. And honestly, it’s exhausting. The endless questions are like a job interview that never ends. I’ve also taken way too many sips of the damnable wine in an effort to avoid talking, if even for a moment.

“I’m going to get some air,” I say the moment the fae female I’ve been speaking with opens her mouth to ask yet another question.

“Oh but—” The male next to her begins.

“I’m sorry.” I paste on the best smile I can. “I’ll be back in just a little bit.”

Or never.

Thank God humans can lie. It’s so helpful. I don’t want to bail on Grace and Alex, not when they seem nearly as uncomfortable as me. But I do need a moment, or I’m going to scream. Or say something entirely un-queen-like. I’d have to be a fool to think that an outburst here wouldn’t make it back to the king or at least the dowager. The dowager certainly gives the impression of knowing everything that goes on in this place, no matter how minute.

Is that what I’d be expected to do too, if I became queen?

I nearly shudder as I sidestep another fae who reaches for me, a question falling from their lips that I don’t stop to hear.

The terrace beckons, offering the illusion of peace. An image that’s quickly broken when I step beyond the walls of the room and out under the night sky. The press of bodies is thinner here, but there are still a number of fae around, ones who immediately notice the human who has stepped into their midst, even though I’m not the only one.

Cora stands amid a cluster of fae, a drink in hand, and the laughter on her face drops right off as she takes me in, her features morphing into a scowl.

I’m not here to steal your spotlight , I wish I could say. How she manages to enjoy so much attention, I’ll never know. Maybe that trait would make her a good queen. She certainly would never fade into some man’s shadow.

I turn abruptly and head for the flight of wide marble stairs leading down into the courtyard.

Lush, green vegetation spreads out before me in the expansive open space, tall bushes and trees soaring toward the sky and offering shelter and privacy to the various portions of the space. The oppressive blanket of sound that had surrounded me is quieter here. Bits of conversation drift down into the courtyard. The hum of distant music weaves through the night. But it’s so much quieter. For the moment, I can breathe again, especially since it doesn’t appear that anyone followed me down the steps—yet.

Though that’s bound to happen if I keep standing here, so I move off into the foliage. Thank goodness for wide heels that fit like a dream and don’t sink into the grass.

I’m not alone out here either though. Laughter rises nearby, at least half a dozen voices by the sound of it. I sigh. Of course some of the fae would have migrated down here too. Can’t say I blame them.

I’m about to turn and head in a different direction, when the laughter quiets down and someone says, “I saw several of your humans enjoying the gathering tonight. ”

I skid to a halt. Your humans? The fine hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. There’s only one fae they could mean.

“So, I’ve heard.” A deep chuckle follows.

My heart pounds against my ribs. That’s definitely Vasilius. We’d been told he was busy welcoming guests, but I suppose that was hours ago.

“And to think you choose to be here with us instead.” More laughter follows.

A wise woman would leave. I’ve heard enough to know this conversation isn’t meant for me, but it’s certainly about me, or partially me, and that thought reels me in like a fish. How can I not listen in? Quietly as I can, I creep nearer through the courtyard.

“You’re not at all worried someone might take an interest in one or two?” someone asks.

“Who would dare when they could be mine?” Vasilius asks, though the question is entirely rhetorical.

Something hard settles in the base of my stomach as I draw near, careful to keep to the shadows. Multiple someones would dare apparently. Adeline’s lover Erymis, and then Lysandir… Hell, if Vasilius knew I kissed his brother, he may lose it. My cheeks flame. The lingering taste of the wine on my tongue turns sour. Lysandir may not have initiated the kiss, but he wasn’t the first to end it either.

“Though, I suppose,” the king drawls, “I’ll have to settle on one eventually.”

“Do you though?” comes a female voice, a little giggle following the wake of her words.

The sound stabs through my center. It releases something foul that slithers around in chest and demands appeasement.

Light spills from around the hedge ahead. I ease up to it and peer through a thinner area of the branches. The sight beyond knocks the breath from my lungs. Vasilius sits on a wide stone bench, a lithe fae woman with bronzed skin and dark hair draped across his lap. One arm is curled around her back, holding her close as she traces a longer finger down the curve of his jaw. A handful of others look on, unfazed by their king’s actions.

What in the fucking hell?

“You can’t tell me you find any of them more beautiful than me,” the female croons. Her dress—if you can call it that, given the limited material—is all open on one side, held together with bits of ribbon that do nothing to hide the curve of her breasts, her ass.

The king smirks, his gaze dropping from her face to her breasts and the peaked nipples I can see from here. “Ah, but can you give me power? You know that bonding a human is necessary to reach my full potential.”

“Let’s not forget powerful heirs,” a male says, raising his glass in mock toast. Others mutter their assent. I recognize this male’s attire, the clothing that mark him as the king’s personal guard. Looks like their relationship is as much personal as professional.

“And my mother insists,” Vasilius adds with a half shrug.

The fae female pouts. “Just because she insists doesn’t mean you have to settle for less.”

A dark look crosses Vasilius’s face, and he slides out from under the woman. She gives a yip of protest, nearly tumbling to the ground.

“A human is more, not less,” he says, “even if it goes against my…inclinations. I will do my duty.”

Duty. That’s all this is to him.

I’d heard the rumors that he wasn’t drawn to humans. Fia mentioned as much too. It’s not a secret. But hearing it from his own lips? Seeing him openly flirt with some fae woman while supposedly dating all of us to pick a bride?

I think I’m going to be sick.

I stumble away from the hedge and hurry in the opposite direction.

There’s no love between the king and me. I knew that before. But the others? Bailey? My heart clenches at the thought of her. She might love him, and I thought…

God. Is it all an act? Is every smile, every kind word from the king, every moment he spends with us a lie? Duty? Is that really all? Some task he must complete?

An open hallway leading into the palace looms before me. It’s not where I entered from, but I hardly care. It’s away from the courtyard, from all that just upended my evening.

“Mira.” The harsh, masculine whisper causes me to skip a step.

Without slowing, I twist my head back toward the voice. Tharin stalks after me, silent as a ninja.

“Wait.” The word barely teases my ears.

But I don’t stop. I can’t. If I do, it will all become too real. Just seeing him—someone, anyone—has my emotions tumbling after one another and getting tangled together until I’m not sure if I’ll laugh or cry or something else.

The clack of my heels on the marble accompanies me once I reach the hallway. It’s empty at this hour, a strange comfort, though I have no doubt Tharin follows behind.

As if my thoughts summon him, he says my name again, louder this time.

I turn a corner, pressing onward, though I have no idea where I’m headed. This part of the palace is new to me. My destination doesn’t matter, as long as it’s away from the courtyard and the king .

“Your quarters are the other way,” Tharin says. “Let me show you back. Or shift you.”

The hallway ends in a T-shaped intersection just ahead, pathways branching off right and left.

I look back over my shoulder as I plow ahead. “I can’t. I just—”

He halts. Tharin’s eyes go wide.

“I need—” I smack into something firm and bounce backward.

But it’s no wall that reaches out and grips my upper arm to steady me. The scent that envelopes me makes my head spin more than the wine I drank earlier in the evening, and in that moment, I know who it is before I see him. My heart skips a beat. My chest swells, and I grab a fist full of his shirt to steady myself. The moment I lift my face toward his, all the emotion of the evening crashes into me full force, and tears burn at the corners of my eyes.

“Lysandir.”

“Mira.” The sound of my name is somewhere between a gasp and prayer. He cups my cheek, turning my face as if searching for injury. “What happened?”

“I—” The single letter cracks from my throat, and I can’t force anything out. All I can do is stare at him, caught in the heat of his stare that starts to blur beyond the tears that threaten to form and fall.

He drops his hand from my cheek, and his attention snaps past me. “Tharin?”

Distant conversation and laughter grow louder, signaling others coming our way. The sound makes me take a half step closer to Lysandir. The irrational urge to bury my face against his chest and sob is nearly overwhelming.

“Not here,” Tharin replies.

“Her room.” Lysandir gives a little nod.

His other arm comes around me to hold me closer. That’s all the warning I have before the air constricts, the hallway melts away, and then suddenly we’re standing outside my chamber.