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

Chapter 38

W e manage to keep our hands off each other—mostly. Ironically, it’s only our hands that touch, but it was almost so much more when I removed my bra, forgetting that my hair had dampened my dress and that Lysandir would be able to see absolutely everything. He’d stared at me like a lion about to pounce on its prey. It probably didn’t help when I pulled my shoulders back ever so subtly.

He calmed a little and claimed the couch when I tucked myself under the sheets. But both of us were restless, unable to sleep, though I so desperately wanted to. Eventually, Lysandir lay on the floor by my bed with a decorative pillow propped under his head and held the hand that I dangled over one side of the mattress. It should have been so much harder to sleep like that—touching him, holding the hand that had elicited such wicked pleasure in the bath, but I fell asleep quickly then.

It was just after dawn when Lysandir woke me, and though I wanted nothing more than to continue lying in bed, preferably snuggled up beside him, the rational part of my brain reminded me that I needed to get back to my room before Fia or someone else noticed my absence .

“You’re not leaving again, are you?” I ask.

“My brother did not say, but I hope not,” Lysandir replies. He told me he slept some, but some might have been five minutes for the sleep-deprived look on his face. “Even if he continues his bloody crusade, I will not go unless he orders me to.”

Which he might, like he did the first time.

Lysandir opens the door and peeks outside. The sky has just started to lighten, leaving much of the world in soft shadow.

“I don’t see anyone,” he says from the threshold.

Good. The last thing we need is someone spotting me leaving his room. I join him at the door, lingering in heavy silence. He takes my hand in his. His thumb rubs across my skin in a soothing promise. We stand like that for a while, just staring at one another, savoring the peace of the moment. The birds are just starting to wake up. A soft breeze ruffles the foliage. Once again, I wish I could hug him. Leaving with only a squeeze of his hand feels wrong after all we’ve shared. So, very quickly, before I can second-guess it, I rise up on my toes and plant a quick peck on his lips.

Color paints his cheeks. He lifts an arm like he might pull me to him but drops it, balling it into a fist. “I’ll see you again soon, Mira.”

The courtyard is just starting to lighten as I slip out of Lysandir’s room and make my way along the cobbled pathway. Dew clings to everything. The crisp air and peaceful aura belie all the horrors of the past week.

At least Lysandir and I were able to steal a precious night together.

Memories of it accompany me down the pathway, distracting my thoughts. It’s not until I’m halfway across the central plaza that I realize I’m not alone .

“You’re up early,” a female voice says.

I half stumble, drawing up short. My blood chills to ice as I look over to find Cora standing a few feet away. She’s wearing a cream-colored sleep shirt and soft-looking long pants, her hair sloppily braided over one shoulder, but she’s far too alert to have just woken up.

“And isn’t your room that way?” She points in the direction I’d been headed, a knowing look on her face.

I turn slowly and give the most casual shrug I can muster. “Couldn’t sleep.”

“So you decided to try a different bed,” she all but spits the last word, stalking toward me. “The king’s perhaps?”

The accusation causes me to flinch.

“I would never,” I reply in an urgent whisper.

“Oh really? Isn’t that the same dress you wore yesterday?” She tsks and gives me a once-over, frowning at what she finds. “Thought you’d gain an advantage over the rest of us by comforting him on his return?”

The tiny part of my head seeing reason screams. She didn’t see you with Lysandir. She doesn’t know. She’d have called me out on it in a minute if she had. She’s guessing. That’s it. My nails cut little half-moons into my palms as I wrestle control of my fury.

“It sounds like that’s what you had in mind,” I reply.

She smirks and tosses her braid over her shoulder. “It’s not a bad idea.”

The thought turns my stomach and not because I have any desire for the king or his crown. The opposite. “You can’t seriously want him. Not after yesterday.”

“Of course I do,” she scoffs. “He’s the king. I have to win this competition and become his queen. There’s no other choice. ”

“What do you mean?” I rear back in confusion. No other choice? Of course there are other choices.

“You wouldn’t understand.” She crosses her arms and turns up her nose. “Cloistered girl with a family who loves you.”

“Loves me?” My mother and brothers, yes. And Selena. But my aunt and uncle? I’m not so certain. “I’m not here because they love me. I’m here because my uncle saw an opportunity to better the family name and is happy to use me as a tool to get it.”

“Ugh.” She sighs in exasperation, letting her arms fall wide. “Don’t pretend you don’t want to be here. I saw your little performance before the king that first night. How you dreamed of coming here and becoming his bride.”

My cheeks heat. “I did. That’s true. But even if I hadn’t, I wouldn’t have had a choice in coming here. My uncle has provided for my family since my father died years ago. If I didn’t come, if I didn’t do everything I could to win the crown, do you think he’d still keep a roof over their heads?”

Maybe he would. Part of me has to believe he wouldn’t be so cruel as to leave them homeless, but I have no doubt they’ll be better off if I make him happy. His love for his brother was unconditional, but the rest of us? It never extended that far.

She huffs. “There are worse things than being poor.”

I gape at her, and I’m so furious it takes a moment before I can close my mouth and make it form words. “Spoken like someone who has never had to worry about money a day in her life.”

She’s oozed money since the moment she arrived in her fancy Louboutin heels.

Cora lets out a small squeal of frustration and stomps toward me. I shift my stance, ready for her to take a swing at me, when she stops two feet away pulls up the bottom hem of her shirt.

“You see this?” she points a manicured nail at her side .

It takes a moment to make it out in the morning light, to notice the slight yellowish tint of the healing bruise on her skin. When I do, my stomach plummets.

“Yeah, that’s from my brother.” She drops her hem only to tug down part of the neckline, revealing a round mark below her collarbone. “And this, this is from my father—or rather his cigar. He’s too good to use his fists.”

“I…” I step back, blinking, lost for words. “I didn’t know.”

“No one does,” she snaps and releases her clothes. “And you better not tell. I want no one’s pity,” she spits the word like it disgusts her. “But you see, I can’t lose the crown and go back because they might just kill me.”

“You really are determined to marry him.”

“I’ll do whatever it takes.”

The ferocity, the determination in her gaze, has me taking another step back. What wouldn’t she do for the crown? To escape that kind of abuse? But to win the crown, she’d need to be the king’s pick, and she wasn’t.

I swallow the tightness in my throat. “Anything. Like find a way to kill Bailey?”

“What?” The absolute shock and horror on her face fills me with instant regret.

It was a low blow. A long shot.

And I was so, so wrong.

A tear streaks down her cheek, and she shoves it away with the base of her palm. “Think me a bitch all you want, but I would never have harmed her. I liked her, okay? She was kind to me.”

The confession reaches into my chest and pulls back my ribs, exposing my battered heart. Bailey was kind. To everyone.

“I’m sorry,” I begin, but she may as well have not heard me .

“She was going to help me,” Cora’s voice cracks. “She could have the king, and I’d…” She sniffles. “You think I’m that horrible, don’t you?”

I raise my hands. “I don’t. I’m sorry.”

For a fleeting moment, the idea was there. If I hadn’t been sleep deprived or shocked by one revelation or another, maybe it wouldn’t have been or I’d have shut it down, but in that moment, all I could think about was her anger and desperation and what Lysandir had said about the Unseelie being unprepared and unaware.

“But you said it,” she snaps.

“I did.” I step closer, my hands still up like I’m trying to calm a spooked horse. “I’m sorry. You didn’t hurt her. You would never hurt her.”

“I really wouldn’t have.” She swipes at another tear. “Not her.” She starts to sob then, whatever dam of emotions she’s held together completely breaking free.

I stare awkwardly for a moment before wrapping an arm around her and guiding her toward a bench. We may not get along—at all—but no one deserves to cry alone, not when they’re hurting.

After a minute, she pulls herself together, stemming the tears.

“I’m sorry,” she snips, angrily swiping away the tear tracks on her face.

“Don’t be. It’s my fault.”

“At least we agree on that,” she replies but gives me a fragile smile.

We sit in silence for a minute, and when Cora makes no move to leave, I ask, “How was Bailey going to help you?”

She pulls in a long breath then lets it out and looks over at me. “It seemed obvious the king was going to pick her. Even I could see that, and nothing I did was turning him from her. So, I decided that my next best plan was to appeal to the future queen for help.” She glances off into the courtyard, staring at nothing. “I told her about my family. The hell they put me through. She said that if she became queen—” Cora shakes her head. “If. She was too modest for her own good.” Another tear slips free and she brushes it away. “If she became queen, she was going to ask the king to let me stay, even if my family demanded me back for however brief a time. Keep them away too. Maybe the king could find me a good match with a noble or something.”

She lifts one shoulder.

I hug my arms around myself. Her wish is like Alex and Grace’s. Different but similar all the same. Does anyone want the king for himself? Tears sting at the corner of my eyes. Anyone but Bailey?

What a mess we all are.

“I don’t want to marry the king,” I say, feeling the need to confess something to ease the balance between us. “I don’t want to be queen.”

“And that’s what has you wandering around in yesterday’s clothes?” It’s not condemnation in her gaze when she asks this time, more genuine curiosity.

“Something like that.”

She nods but doesn’t ask more.

“I don’t want to marry him,” I say again. “But if somehow I get stuck with him, I can make you the same promise Bailey did.”

Cora snaps her head in my direction.

“I’ll do whatever I can to help you stay here and keep your family away.”

“You’d do that?”

“Of course. Why wouldn’t I?”

She huffs. “I haven’t exactly been nice to you. ”

“No,” I admit. “But I think I understand your reasons a little more.”

The sun has risen, the world fully wakening, and I can almost feel like sand in the hourglass running out before Fia comes to wake me with coffee. Except she won’t find me.

I stand from the bench. “We should get back before our maids find us missing and panic.”

“I’ll keep it to myself,” Cora says.

“Huh?” I glance down at her where she still sits on the bench.

“Whatever you were up to.” She gestures around us. “I won’t tell.”

“Oh.” I swallow, my mouth suddenly dry as memories of the night before rush back. “Thank you.”

“Maybe…” She looks up at me, and when she smiles, I know it’s the first genuine one I’ve seen from her. “Maybe we can do better with each other going forward.”

I smile at her in return. “I’d like that.”

My room is still dark once I slip inside and close the door behind me. There’s no time to savor the feeling of relief before it all gets smashed to bits.

“I’m disappointed” comes a voice from the shadows.

I startle, whirling around with my back to door, palm gripping the handle in case I need to flee.

But running won’t help. I’ve been caught. Again.

Fia stands from the stool at my dressing table, shaking her head like a mother who has caught her child sneaking in after a night of drinking and debauchery. Except Fia and I aren’t that far apart in age and she doesn’t have any kids to have practiced her disappointment on.

“Fia…” I start, unsure what to say.

“Sneaking out to spend time with the prince.” She tsks.

“How— Why do you think that?” I lean farther back against the door, the solid mass at my back the only think holding me upright.

She sighs. “Tharin told me.”

Tharin… I grit my teeth, the betrayal sharp and stinging. I know he’s against us, but ratting me out like this?

“And who have you told?” I ask.

Fia frowns, her shoulders dropping. “You really think so poorly of me?” She crosses the space between us and hold out a hand to me. “I’m disappointed because it wasn’t you who told me, not because you care for the prince.”

I blink at her. “Wait, what?”

“You thought I wouldn’t approve.” She flexes her open hand, waiting for me to take it.

Finally, I do, and she leads me over to sit on the edge of the bed.

“Well, no,” I say. “I know how much you want me to become queen. And being with anyone else while bound into The Choosing is treason. I’m the king’s until he decides otherwise.” Saying it out loud makes it all sound so much worse than it did a few moments ago.

“All true,” she says. “But aren’t we friends?”

“Yes?”

She sits next to me and takes my hand in hers. “I hope we are. There can only be one queen. Being the maid to the future princess sounds quite nice. Less pressure, all the fame. Besides, he’s a better fit for you, I think. Much better.”

“So you didn’t tell anyone?”

“No.”

I nearly sigh in relief, some of the tension slipping from my shoulders.

“Tharin was looking out for you, I think. He thought something like this might happen and didn’t want me to find you missing in the night and panic, thinking something had happened to you, as I might have. I do get concerned for you.” She tilts her head to the side, smiling that blinding grin of hers.

Something swells in my chest, and I make an effort to return her optimist. “I don’t deserve you.”

“But you do.” She pats our joined hands before releasing me and rising. “Now that I know you are safe, rest. There is nothing planned this morning as of yet but…” She trails off, looking away. After yesterday, the king’s sudden return. “It would be best to rest now, and I will wake you if an event arises.”

Because no one knows what state the king is in now or how he’ll want to proceed with The Choosing after all that’s transpired the last few days.

“Thank you, Fia. For everything.” I fill the words with all the gratitude I feel, and from the softening of her face and soft sparkle in her eyes, I think she feels it too.

“I am here for you,” she promises. “Now sleep.”