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

Chapter 23

T he guards stationed in our hall leap to attention and step forward.

Tharin raises a hand to ward them off. “No need. Lady Mira is unsettled, and the prince would like a word.”

Said prince has already released me, opened the door to my room, and is ushering me inside. Tharin follows us and shuts the door behind him.

I don’t wait for them to speak or ask me questions. Numbly, I walk to my bed and plop down on the edge. My teeth dig into my bottom lip, the sharp bite of pain centering me and forcing the tears away. The fae lights are dim, and no one bothers to brighten them.

A little voice in the back of my head is screaming about the awkwardness of the situation. Bed. Prince. Room. Dark. But it’s barely a whisper compared to everything else.

“Well?” Lysandir says.

From the sharpness of his tone, I know the question isn’t directed at me. I don’t even need to look up. And I don’t, focusing instead on one deep breath after another .

“Some of the women decided to attended a party. I went along to keep an eye on things, of course. At some point in the evening, Mira ventured into the courtyard. There, she…” He trails off, and I can almost feel the tension radiating from Lysandir in the pause. “The king was there with some of his close companions. Male and female.”

Lysandir bites out some curse I’m unfamiliar with.

“Indeed,” Tharin replies. “I may not have caught all of the conversation that Mira did, but in the parts I heard, your brother made clear his dedication to his duties as king, despite what he may personally prefer.”

Another curse slips free, this one even more edged.

“I was attempting to convince Mira to let me bring her back here when we stumbled upon you.”

Literally. I huff air through my nose and glance up at the men.

Lysandir has a hand clasped over his eyes, fingertips massaging his temples and ruffling his auburn hair. Tharin’s face is grim, but his stance is casual, not what I’d generally expect of a guard in front of his prince.

With a deep sigh, Lysandir drops his hand. “I’ll have a discussion with my brother.”

Tharin nods and glances toward me, his head canting to the side. “Should I leave you?”

The prince looks my way, and only then do I realize the question was directed at me. Oh. Lysandir makes his way toward me in silence, and a flush burns up my cheeks. He stops abruptly near the corner of my desk. A grin lifts one corner of his lips.

“I see you got my gift.” He runs a finger over a piece of paper where I’d doodled a few random designs before realizing I wasn’t in a state to write anything.

“I sent a thank you note.” I eye Tharin .

“Which was delivered.” He raises his hands in surrender.

A huff of breath catches in Lysandir’s throat. “If you gave it to Tharin, I’m sure it’s waiting for me in my quarters. I haven’t had the chance to look at much since I returned this evening.”

Oh, lovely. He just got back, and I had to run right into him with my problems. I’m sure that’s exactly what he wanted.

“I think we should be fine on our own,” Lysandir says to Tharin. Then he glances at me. “Unless Mira disagrees.”

I swallow, my throat suddenly dry. He intends to stay? Warmth spreads out from the center of my chest. That little voice whispering in my head from earlier is suddenly so much louder.

Bed. Prince. Room. Dark.

Alone.

“We’re fine,” I whisper, unsure what else to say.

“Let me know if you need anything.” He and Lysandir hold one another’s gazes, some silent communication passing between them. Then Tharin looks at me. “Either of you.”

The moment he turns to leave, the atmosphere in the room turns thick and full. It’s harder to breath, even harder to think. It takes everything I have not to squeak or leap away when Lysandir takes a seat on the edge of the bed just a foot away from me. The tension jumping between us is palpable.

His shoulders hunch on another sigh. “I should ask you not to speak to the others about what you witnessed tonight.”

Should…

“But?” I ask into the heavy silence.

He shakes his head. “I’m not sure, exactly, but I don’t want to demand that of you.”

“Oh.” A risk, to be sure. I could undermine his brother in a few words. Send this competition into chaos. And yet, he won’t ask me not to share it ?

“Though…” He winces. “Perhaps you could wait until after the ball tomorrow if you do tell any of the others?”

Right. Because upsetting the competition is one thing, but potentially causing a scene in front of the other courts could be absolutely disastrous.

“I will. Or won’t.” My brows scrunch. “I won’t tell anyone before the ball. I can promise that.”

“Good. Thank you.” He visibly swallows, tension radiating from him. “I’m sorry you had to stumble upon that tonight. I wish you could have avoided such revelations.”

“It’s…” Not okay, exactly. That wouldn’t be right, but I can’t regret it. “I’m actually glad I did.”

“Glad?” Lysandir rears back like I’m a snake about to bite.

My head bobs. “It was shocking. Uncomfortable. It…hurt. But I’d rather know than continue on in ignorance believing that the king might really fall in love with one of us or is doing this because he truly wants a wife. I’d heard rumors. I think many of us have, but having it confirmed… Well, it puts things in a different light. But I’m still glad I can see that rather than walking in blind, you know?”

He’s silent for a minute, staring at nothing, before he looks over at me. “Knowing the truth isn’t always easier. You know about my visions.” He leans back on his palms, one placed on either side of him. When I nod, he continues. “Seeing the future, the truth of what’s to come, is often a lot harder than not knowing. Once you know, you’re stuck with it. You can’t pretend it could be some other way. Well, I suppose you can try, but you’ll always know the truth deep down. It would be just deluding yourself.” His voice drops to a whisper, and he glances away again. “Hoping for what isn’t and what cannot be. ”

I have the sudden urge to hug him, but that would probably be inappropriate. He’s a prince. I could end up marrying his brother. And then there’s that awkward kiss and the fact that he literally told me he already has someone he cares for. I swerve my thoughts in a new direction. Besides, I don’t know if he’s a hugger.

Right. Because that’s the reason, Mira.

“You’re not wrong,” I say at length. “But I still think a hard truth is better than ignorance.”

Lysandir shifts, and I’d swear his fingers inch closer to mine. When did I even drop my hand to the covers?

“I don’t know,” he says. “There are many times I would love to be ignorant. Just for a little while. If pain or disappointment is inevitable, I’d like to be able to enjoy the happy moments before them without the cloud of the future hanging over me.”

Like it hangs over you now? Something does. Maybe his time pushing back the Unseelie.

“Surely not everything you see can be bad?” I say.

He looks at me then, really looks, like he’s trying to see beyond my body and into my soul. I look away, suddenly regretting my question.

“No, Mira,” he says. “No, it’s not at all bad. Not at all.”

“Then you have happy things to look forward to as well, right?”

He smiles but closes his eyes and drops his head. His hair is loose this evening, and some of it slides over his shoulder to shield part of his face. The barest hint of a pointed ear pokes through the tresses. He pulls his arms in front of him and braces his elbows on his thighs as he leans forward.

It’s strange, but the darkness brings out as many variations in his hair as the light, accenting the darker strands and giving a depth to the color that makes me yearn for a red pen despite my dislike of them. Not red. Crimson. Burgundy. Something darker yet rich and full of life.

Lysandir clasps his hands in front of him and looks over at me. “I suppose I do.”

Another ache pulses through me. Why, oh why, does he look so sad? Because of what I learned about his brother? Something else?

“We were told you were dealing with the Unseelie these past few days,” I say. “Was it terrible?” Is that the reason for your pain?

I want to know. No, I need to know. More than anything, I want to find some way to soothe whatever is troubling him. It calls out like a wound in need of healing, and something tells me he doesn’t have many people to tend to him. He’s shown me care and concern. I’d be a fool not to do the same, my personal feelings aside.

“Terrible?” he says. “I’ve seen much worse. This raid was quick. They seemed to be after information rather than trying to cause real damage or loss of life.”

I lean in, intrigued. “What kind of information?”

“Some of the fae the Unseelie cornered and interrogated were asked about whether there were any unbonded humans nearby.”

My skin turns clammy. “Were there? I mean, they didn’t take anyone, did they?”

“No.” Lysandir shakes his head.

I nearly sigh in relief. To be taken by Unseelie… I shudder. It’s too horrible to consider.

“The humans that come to live here typically have little trouble finding a willing partner,” he says. “In fact, most unbonded never even leave the capital before they secure one. I’m sure you haven’t missed the interest you all receive at events.” A lopsided grin flashes across his features. “You probably aren’t supposed to know the details of the Unseelie raid. At least not yet. ”

I make a gesture of zipping my lips, which earns a slight huff of laughter. It would raise way too many questions if I just happened to know things about enemy attacks that the other women don’t. I’m not foolish enough to give myself away like that anyway, but I get the sense he’s not insulting my intelligence, just covering his own bases.

“After we secured the border, we tracked them back into their territory, and—” He cuts off with a shake of his head. “We didn’t find much. I should be disappointed. My brother sees it as a failure. But such offensives fit more with his interests and skills than mine. I’m…” He swallows again, a hint of color rising to his cheeks. He flexes his arm, showing off the lean muscle there. “Vasilius and I are different in many ways, but in one thing we are aligned. We do what we must to fulfill our roles and protect our court. Even if it’s not what we want.”

The pain in Lysandir’s eyes as he looks over at me is all too real.

Fighting goes against his nature, just as marrying a human goes against his brother’s. But both do their duty. They put the court first, no matter what they want.

It’s the most natural thing in the world to place my hand over his and give it a squeeze. The moment we touch, a thrill rushes under my skin. Lysandir jolts, and I think he might pull away. But he doesn’t. The shock in his expression fades as he stares at the place where we touch.

“Mira…” He turns his palm over, and his fingers curl around mine.

It’s so simple, almost innocent, but that touch is everything. My heart swells until my chest aches. My stomach twists in on itself. And the grin that rushes to my face makes all the hurt and uncertainty of the evening fade into nothing .

“I…” I bite my lip, hesitant to break the moment, and then force the words out. “I’m sorry you had to deal with that and that I brought it up.”

“Don’t apologize.” Strong fingers twine through mine. His grip tightens. “Not for something like that. Your thoughts, your questions, are safe with me.” You’re safe with me . He doesn’t say it, but I feel it in the warmth of his skin against mine. I hear it in the echo of his words as they twist through the recesses of my mind.

It’d be so easy to lean in and lay my head on his shoulder. Or better yet, kiss him again. I’ve imagined it way more times than I have any right to. It’s an effort to stop myself from giving in to the pull tugging me closer.

So, I fill the void with words instead. “I love the gift, by the way.”

His head cocks to the side. “You do?”

I barely stifle a laugh. There’s genuine wonder in his eyes. How could he possibly believe otherwise?

“Gorgeous, glittering pens?” I raise my brows, glancing toward the item and then back to him. “You’ve seen my journals.”

The hint of a smile pulls at his lips. “I have.”

“So you had to know I’d love it. How could I not?”

One shoulder lifts in a shrug. “It’s not jewelry or gems or—”

“It’s perfect.” I squeeze his hand. “I’d much rather have something lovely that I can use all the time than something I’d be too nervous to wear because I’d worry about breaking it or losing it.”

He chuckles again. “I’ll have to keep that in mind.”

My face flushes hotter. I wiggle in my seat, suddenly all too aware of the mattress beneath us.

Lysandir pulls his hand away from mine. My heart lurches then plummets. But then he shifts to face me. My breath catches as his leg brushes mine.

“Mira. I…” He pauses. “There’s something I need to tell you. ”

I tense, my chest hot and tight. This is where he mentions that his heart is taken. That I’m in a competition to marry his brother. That we can’t possibly be together.

A stiff knock sounds at the door. Lysandir all but leaps off the bed, moving a few steps away so quickly that it steals my breath.

I blink, still staring at the spot he was a heartbeat ago.

It takes a moment for my brain to catch up, to switch from everything that was just happening to the sound that had the prince fleeing my side. When I turn to look at him, he’s breathing heavy, chest rising and falling as he stares at the door like a monster might burst through at any moment.

The knock comes again. The familiar pattern of beats is one I’ve come to recognize—Fia.

Lysandir glances my way, his earlier surprise tamed into neutrality.

“Should I?” I mouth. Maybe he wants to vanish first.

But no. He nods. And suddenly I feel like I’ve slipped back into my teenage years to that time my mom caught me with a boy in my room and the door closed. We really were just friends, not that she ever believed that. He became public enemy number one at our house and until his family moved away a year later.

“Come in,” I call.

Fia opens the door and bounds inside with her usual enthusiasm before freezing mid-step and nearly tumbling over. “Oh!” Her eyes widen and she drops into a bow. “My prince.”

“This isn’t what it looks like,” I stammer.

“The door,” Lysandir commands at the same time.

“Of course.” Fia whips into action and closes it. “I’m so sorry, Prince Lysandir. I did not mean to interrupt, only Tharin mentioned that Lady Mira had returned to her room and might need something before she went to bed for the night. ”

A frown tugs at my lips. But Tharin knew that Lysandir was here. Unless he expected him to be gone already.

“Was he incorrect?” She glances at me. “Should I come back later?”

“No, please stay,” Lysandir sighs and shakes his head. “He was simply doing as I asked. Lady Mira was unsettled earlier this evening, and I wished to make sure she was all right. Now that you’re here, please see that she has what she needs.”

The words lack feeling. The warmth and closeness of moments ago has vanished.

I will Lysandir to look at me, to explain, but he doesn’t. Instead, when he turns and bids me goodnight, it holds nothing more than the mild pleasantries one might reserve for a new acquaintance. The last of my own goodnight still hangs in the air when he pulls open the door and leaves without a backward glance.

“Well, that was odd,” Fia comments once he leaves. “I thought after the gift he sent that perhaps he had shown a particular interest in you. Was I wrong?”

Yes? No? I thought so too, but… The words stick to my tongue, refusing to come out. I swallow.

“I’m not sure,” I say at last. For a moment there, I was so sure my interest was returned. But then he’d pulled away, he’d tried to say something before we were interrupted. What?

“Oh.” Her shoulders slump and she frowns toward the door. It’s only then I realize I’m wearing the same expression.

Does he care for me? Or is he as good an actor as his brother?