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

Chapter 27

O ne moment, we’re under the evening sky, surrounded by glass and plant life. The next, we’re inside a room. It only takes one breath for me to know exactly where we are. The scent of sandalwood and spice— his scent—clings to the space. We stand next to a small sitting area, but it’s the sight of the bed with its crimson sheets ruffled on one side a few feet away that makes me dizzy. Damn my traitorous body for wanting him after what I just realized.

Instead of releasing my hand, Lysandir adjusts his grip to try to twine his fingers with mine, and I jerk away.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” I snap.

Apparently whatever leash held me back is gone.

He rears back like I slapped him. “Mira…”

“I’m supposed to be your mate?”

“I-I didn’t think you’d be so opposed. Not after that kiss or last night.” He shakes his head. “Did I misread—”

This man makes no sense. My hand balls into a fist at my side. “Last night? You think I was faking my interest? It’s you who led me on, putting on an act for the humans, just like your brother. ”

Lysandir snarls, lips pulling back to reveal white teeth. “I am not my brother. I should have realized its him you prefer after all.”

“What?” I gape. “I do not! You know what I felt when I kissed him? Nothing. Absolutely nothing.”

His lips twitch. He crosses his arms and stares me down in smug satisfaction. “And when you kissed me?”

My mouth goes dry. Everything. I felt everything. And now I feel sick over it.

“You led me on.” I poke an accusing finger at him. “You kissed me back. You held my hand. You gave me gifts. And don’t tell me it was a mistake that you were always there, watching me, seeking me out. Because I’m your mate? It is some biologic thing that made you do that?” I nearly scream in frustration. “You should have just told me upfront you didn’t want me instead of acting like that and making me believe you did. Didn’t I tell you I’d rather a hard truth than not knowing—”

“Not want you?” Suddenly he’s right in front of me, staring down at me. His chest rises and falls. Warmth radiates from him, jumping the narrow space between us. “Not want you?” he thunders. “You’re what I want most in this world! You have been for years!”

“I…” My thoughts shut down. Completely. The world tilts on its axis. I’m not even sure I’m in my body any more. All I know is the man inches away from me telling me something impossible.

And then everything rushes back.

“I-I don’t understand.” I reach out my hands to my sides, trying to grab something, anything, to steady myself. But nothing is nearby, nothing but him, and I can’t anchor myself to the thing that’s just upended my universe. Nor can I make feet move. “You just told Wren how horrible it would be to surrender to fate. You entered a damnable competition to try and not have me be your mate. You told me you already gave your heart away. You don’t want me! ”

“Mira.” His fingertips graze my cheek, and I shudder. “I want you so badly it hurts.”

Holy shit.

I lean away from the touch I crave like life itself. I want it. I want it so much. But I hardly know up from down.

Lysandir flinches and drops his hand but doesn’t step back.

“But…” It comes out almost as a whimper.

There has to be something. A shoe waiting to fall and crush me.

“I tried to change your future,” he says, calmer now. “Not that you were the woman I was destined to love. My future mate.” His voice cracks over the last word. “Never that.”

“But the king said…” My mouth falls open in disbelief. Never that.

“What did my brother say?” Lysandir’s tone takes a hard edge.

What did he say? My brows pinch. It couldn’t have been that long ago, but it feels like a lifetime. “That you saw your mate,” I say. “That she must have been hideous because you didn’t want her or wanted to change things related to her or something.”

He huffs air through his nose and looks away. “I told Vasilius what he needed to hear so that he wouldn’t question me when I went to the Court of Air to compete for a wish from the cauldron.” He glances back at me. “It was the truth…in a way. Enough that I could speak it and he believed it or believed whatever he wanted to, I suppose.”

The king was wrong. I cling to that thought like a lifeboat.

“It wasn’t that you found me hideous?” I swallow, bracing for the response.

A humorless laugh falls from his lips. “No. Far from it.” He cups my cheek. The urge to pull away has vanished. Instead, I lean into the touch, savor it. “You’re beautiful, Mira. ”

Beautiful. How one word can heal so many wounds, I’ll never understand.

“Then what did you want to change?” I ask. There’s something. Not a small thing. I have to know.

His throat bobs. He swipes his thumb across my skin one last time before pulling away. “Can I start from the beginning?”

“Please.”

When Lysandir laces his fingers though mine, I’m eager for the touch. It’s connection, its strength, and I need that more than ever. I still feel adrift, lost in a little boat on the seas and at the mercy of the waves. I thought the fog had rolled back and let me see the truth, but it had plied me with another illusion instead.

Now, finally, his hand in mine, this is real. This is true.

So, I follow as he leads me to the nearby sofa, and we sit down together.

Mate. Holy shit. He’s my mate.

The revelation plays over and over again inside my head.

It’s not a simple thing. More than a partner, a spouse. Some fae think it ordained by the stars, by the spirit of the long-ago queen who blessed the land with her powers. Either way, it’s the soul’s answering echo found in another. Fated? Maybe. But when someone who can see the future is involved, fated is the only explanation.

Lysandir releases my hand, only to place his palm on my thigh, as if he can’t bear to not have the connection or he fears I might vanish. My dress doesn’t lack for fabric. Layers separate us. But his touch almost feels like a brand on my skin nonetheless.

“You know about my visions,” he says at last.

“That you see glimpses of the future.” A very rare talent, even among the magically gifted fae .

“Most come unbidden, some when I least expect them, but every once in a while, when I meditate on a particular thing, I am granted a vision of it as well. A few years ago, I suppose I was feeling particularly lonely.” He glances away and then back at me with a tight, brief smile. “I decided to meditate and ask the fates if there was someone I was destined to love and be loved by in return. I did not expect them to answer. They so rarely do. But just when I was about to give up, they showed me a vision. And I saw you, Mira, looking much as you do now, smiling at me.”

A whole different type of tear burns at the corner of my eyes. My heart tries to lurch straight out of my chest and give itself over to him. When it doesn’t, I place my hand over his and wrap my fingers around his, needing the connection.

His expression changes to something soft, vulnerable, and if I thought my heart was ripping itself out a moment ago, it truly is now. I’ve never known a man to be so open. My uncle isn’t. My brothers certainly aren’t. And if my father was, I can’t remember. But the show of emotion doesn’t weaken Lysandir in my eyes—it strengthens him. He holds such emotion and yet walks through life with such strength and resolve. I force a smile for him, maybe like the one he saw. I can’t know, but I try all the same.

“Seeing you, not knowing who you were but that I had such a woman in my future, gave me such hope, such joy. I thought about you often. It should embarrass me to say that, but it doesn’t. If I had a hard day, when I was lonely, if I was feeling rejected or overshadowed, I would think about the woman fate showed me who awaited me in my future. You were my light, Mira, the fire that beckoned me on when times were dark.”

“Lysandir…” I scoot closer to him. “But you said you gave your heart away long ago.”

“I did.” He caresses my cheek. “To you. ”

All this time… It was me. He wanted me. He waited for me.

“But you didn’t know me, not really,” I say.

“I didn’t. But I’ve had the chance to now. There’s so much more I wish to learn and know, but what I have seen, the time I’ve been able to spend with you, it just confirmed all the things I hoped.”

The urge to kiss him, to heal the broken parts he’s showing me, is overwhelming. I reach for him, but this time he’s the one who pulls back.

His eyes close as if he’s pained, and he slowly shakes his head. “But it might have been easier if you hadn’t lived up to my dreams.”

The comment hits like a dagger to the heart. “What?”

“At first, I almost wanted to dislike you. I hoped that my dreams were inflated and wouldn’t hold up because that’s not the only time I saw you in my visions.”

“Tell me.” What could be so horrible for him to wish that? Fingers of dread crawl up my spine.

“When it became clear that my mother was determined for Vasilius to find a queen while she still walks this plane and a Choosing would be the most reasonable method of it since he’d not made a love match, my brother asked me to look into the future and see if my visions would reveal the choice for him.”

No! My mind has already followed the thread to its end and roars against what it finds there. I begin to shake my head side to side, but Lysandir keeps speaking.

“So I asked the fates and I looked.” His hand returns to my thigh in what’s probably meant to be a comforting squeeze but only feels like condemnation. “I saw you, Mira.”

“It’s not possible.”

But the sorrow in his gaze says it is.

“Why would I ever say yes to him? He doesn’t want me, not really. I’m not sure that he wants any of us.” Though that wasn’t always true. Weeks ago, I would have jumped at the chance to be his bride. “Something must have changed. I’ve changed. I came here aiming to be the king’s bride, but that’s no longer what I want. I would never agree to marry him now.” Not now that I’ve gotten to know you. Not now that I know I’m your fated mate. I grasp at his arm. “Surely, you can’t think I’d pick him over you?”

“The fates don’t lie, Mira. What I see comes true.”

I leap to my feet, unable to sit still a moment longer. “There has to be some explanation, something fate hasn’t shown you.” I pace, fighting the urge to cry, to scream all my frustration for the world to hear.

All the while, Lysandir watches me like a hawk, that same stricken expression etched into his features.

“What all did it show you exactly?”

He takes a deep breath and braces his palms on his knees. “I saw you standing before my mother on the dais. She placed a crown upon your head and passed to you the Spear of Shielding, making you Queen of the Court of Fire. It’s exactly what’s planned for whoever my brother chooses.”

I nearly fist my hand in my hair before thinking better of it at the last moment. Fucking hell, that’s pretty damning. I pace again, like I might outrun the truth he’s laid bare.

“That’s why you didn’t want me here that first night.” I stop pacing as the pieces I’d been missing for so long fill themselves in. “You didn’t want me to enter the competition because then I couldn’t win it and become your brother’s queen.”

“Yes,” he admits. “I even considered throwing you over my shoulder, shifting to the doorway to your world, and tossing you back through. But that would have only made my brother suspicious. If he was aware that I knew the winner of the competition, he would have demanded it from me and chosen you on the spot. My mother would have been appeased, and he wouldn’t have had to go through all of this.” He gestures around.

Dear God. And I’d have gone through with it too. To please my uncle, to secure a fruitful future for my family. His vision would have come true that night. I return to the sofa and plop down next to Lysandir. The weight of inevitability tries to shove me down through the cushions.

Lysandir cups my face in his palm, turning it toward him. “A smarter male may have stayed away from you. What good could come from falling harder for a woman he could never truly have?” He leans in, his forehead nearly touching mine. “But I couldn’t. I’d been waiting for you, yearning for you, and even knowing the pain that lay ahead, I couldn’t pass up this opportunity to be near you now, before you become his.”

“Lysandir.” I all but crumple against him, throwing my arms around his neck and laying my head against his chest. His arms come around me, so comforting and sure. His heart races, his pulse echoing through my body. I could stay like this forever and be content, I think.

How on earth am I supposed to marry his brother when I feel like this? And his brother will expect heirs… I shudder and hug Lysandir tighter. There’s no way. It just can’t be possible. I won’t let it be. A sob nearly breaks free. I bite my lip—hard—to hold it back.

When I’ve wrestled my emotions under control, I pull back. Not far, just enough to look up at him, to cup his cheek as he had mine, to stare into his eyes and know with a certainty that the words I’m about to speak are true. “We will change fate. Because I pick you. I choose you. I am yours.”

Lysandir leans in until his breath ghosts across my lips. “And I’ve been yours longer than you can imagine. ”

My soft gasp never leaves my lips before his crash into mine. Their soft warmth is the only feeling in the world, the only thing that matters. My eyes slam shut, and I lean into him, savoring the electric spark that dances across my skin. In the garden, his kiss was tentative at first, then more ravenous. But neither compared to this one. It’s a volcano compared to a match. It’s passion like I’ve never known.

His palm cups the back of my neck before sliding down my body, making its way my backside. He lifts me, and I go. And thank goodness the skirt of the dress is wide enough to let me move with him, to settle in a straddle across his thighs. I’d have torn the damn thing without regret, if not. Lysandir groans against my lips as I settle atop him. The sound only makes my chest burn hotter and sends a flood of moisture pooling between my legs.

Lysandir teases the seam of my lips with his tongue, and I open for him. He sweeps inside, deepening the kiss. He embraces me like a man starved. But I suppose he has been. If I’d seen him years ago, if I’d known for so long he would be mine, I would never have had the restraint to hold back like he has.

Part of me wishes he wouldn’t have, but the other is thankful. I got to know him first, to build something between us, to want him. If he’d told me straight off that I was his, I wouldn’t have believed it. It might have snuffed out any flame before it could begin.

His fingers tangle in the hair at the base of my skull, holding me close. Our kiss turns less fevered, more languid, and somehow even deeper. There are layers of fabric between our bodies, but I still can’t miss the hardness between his legs or the rapid pulse that hammers against his ribs. I want to feel it, all of it, every inch of him. I rock my hips, unable to hold still. Maybe it’s traitorous, kissing the prince when I’m bound into vying for the king’s hand, but I don’t care. Nothing has ever felt more right, more perfect. I can’t imagine finding this to lose it or how it must feel for him to have waited so long only to have fate threaten to steal his happiness before he could claim even a taste of it.

Lysandir gently tugs my hair as he breaks from our kiss.

“Mira,” he groans.

His eyes have been closed, and when they open, a bright glow pours out to illuminate the area around us in crimson light. That glow, that sign of strong emotion in powerful fae, lets me know just how much our kiss affected him—if the rest of him wasn’t proof enough. As the glow dims, I catch sight of his dark, hooded gaze, his kiss-reddened lips. One of my hands has tangled in the silken strands of his crimson hair, mussing it.

“I…” He utters some fae curse I’m unfamiliar with. “I want…”

“Me too.”

But we can’t. Damn fae marks and sense of smell. It’s already going to be a problem. If Vasilius gets anywhere close to me, he’ll undoubtedly smell his brother’s scent and not just a passing whiff that could be easily explained.

That knowledge doesn’t stop the wanting though.

His expression shifts, sorrow leaking into the desire. He sucks in a long breath then shudders. “Fuck,” he blurts. “I can smell you.”

Impossibly, my body flushes hotter. Pretty sure he doesn’t mean my shampoo. I try to squeeze my legs together but only manage to wiggle in his lap and rub against his erection. He groans, his head falling back.

Not helping, Mira.

Reluctantly, I slide from his lap and step away. A few minutes longer in his lap, feeling his heat under me, and I might have done something incredibly stupid. I brush out my skirts, searching for wrinkles, anything to keep from rushing back and kissing him again .

Lysandir rakes his hand through his hair as he stares at me. “How am I supposed to keep from touching you? From kissing you?”

I halt in my efforts and stare at him, feeling every bit of the agony in his gaze.

“From pulling you into my arms every time I see you?” he finishes.

“I know.” I pull my bottom lip between my teeth. “I think I understand why Tharin called me a curse.”

Lysandir sighs. “He’ll be angry with me about tonight.”

“You two are close?” I venture.

“One of my best friends. He’s my personal guard for a reason.”

“And you assigned him to watch after me for the competition?”

He nods. “I did. My brother questioned the assignment that first night, but I used a similar lie as I had with you, that it was strange for you to come here wanting to be queen without visiting before. I told him I was concerned about you. A truth, but I meant it differently than he took it. Tharin was to protect you but also to keep me in check and make sure I didn’t compromise you or my visions.”

“I don’t think he’s a fan of mine,” I grumble.

A small laugh falls from his lips. “He just worries about me.” He sighs. “And I need to take you back to the ball. I’m not sure how long Tharin will be able to explain away our absence.” He props his elbows on his knees and leans forward to hang his head in his hands.

I can’t say how much time has passed. Probably too much. It is hard to imagine that someone hasn’t noticed my absence from such an important event or Lysandir’s .

He looks up, his heated gaze threatening to consume me once more. “But all I want to do is carry you to my bed and mark you. Make you mine, if you’d have me.”

I would, damn it. In a heartbeat. But somehow, saying that out loud feels like it would make everything worse. I don’t need to dangle another carrot we can never reach.

So, I ignore that last comment. “You’re right, we should get back.”

Lysandir groans and slowly gets to his feet. “I’ll get you a flower first.”

“A flow—” I haven’t finished before he vanishes, only to reappear a minute later with a handful of the beautiful red blooms he gave me in the hedge maze, one of them still with roots and dirt dangling from the stem.

“Oh.” I press my thighs together and shift my stance. “That flower.”

He holds one out to me. “Just in case.”

“These might be my new favorite thing.” I take it and offer a sly grin in return as I stare at him from under my lashes.

Lysandir chuckles darkly. “Little temptress.”

Once my head is swimming from the nearly overwhelming floral scent, I add my stem to the pile he tossed onto a nearby table. The mess of flowers should be a saving grace, but the sight of them opens up a void inside my chest.

“We’ll make this work,” I say.

Lysandir looks over sharply at my somber tone.

“One way or another, we’ll be together. I’m yours. I promise.”

He swallows and holds out a hand for me, which I accept. “It’s unwise to make promises you can’t keep, especially in Faery.”

“Then I’ll have to make sure I keep it.”

His hand tightens on mine, but silence is his only reply before we shift away.