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

Chapter 39

W hen I join the other women for an early lunch, there’s an extra pep in my step that’s been missing far longer than I’d like to admit. The sun shines a little brighter today, pouring into the room and lightening everything up. It’s almost like fate has opened a window and maybe things won’t be as bad as I’d feared.

“Saved you a seat!” Grace waves me over to the open space between her and Gabriella.

Cora, seated directly across from her, looks up as I approach and offers me a small smile—more than she ever has before. Sitting down with them for lunch feels relaxing, comfortable. Servers rush over with pitchers of drink and platters of food, all of which are divine. I don’t know if it’s something in the soil or maybe the magic flowing through the world itself, but everything here tastes a little better than similar foods would at home. Of course, with all the pesticides and stuff used back home, I guess it shouldn’t be that surprising.

Zoe joins us a few minutes later, leaving just one spot open at the table. “No Katherine yet?”

Everyone shakes their head .

“And no word from His Majesty?” The slight bitter edge when she says his title is new. A few bird calls flit in from the large, open arched windows, but otherwise silence reigns.

“Nothing today,” Adeline says after a weighty pause.

From the guarded looks and silence around the table, none of us are too excited about a follow-up to yesterday’s horrific disaster.

Zoe has just settled into her plate of vegetables when the main door to the room opens without warning. Multiple women startle, glancing toward the door as guards file in, led by the Captain Avara, the king’s right-hand man a step behind.

I brace, waiting for the king, uneasy anticipation of whatever he has planned for us churning up the food I’ve just eaten. After all, if he planned to apologize, why bring a host of warriors with him?

But the king doesn’t appear.

Avara looks us over before settling on me. “Lady Mira, you’re to come with us.”

“Me?” I blink, taken aback.

“Right away,” the king’s personal guard orders.

Then Tharin is there, pushing through the other guards to step between me and the newcomers. “What’s happening here?”

When his hand drops to the pommel of the sword at his side and stays there, my heart drops.

Wrong. Very wrong.

“King’s orders,” Avara says.

Dawning horror steals the warmth from my skin. He knows. Oh God, somehow he knows. I twist back toward the table, searching one face after another.

“Mira?” Grace grabs my hand.

Alex looks ready to leap out of her chair and fight the guards herself. Adeline is pale and drawn. Gabriella openly gapes in shock. Zoe has dropped her fork. I finally glance at Cora, expecting the sting of her triumphant gaze, but she looks as horrified as the rest. She gives the slightest shake of her head and mouths, No .

Not her. Not any of them.

Tharin is arguing with the guards closing in, but I barely hear him.

None of the women ratted me out. They wouldn’t. And it wasn’t Tharin—he’s as shocked as the rest.

“Right now, miss.” Avara waits, hand outstretched just a few feet away.

My heart is in my throat as I release Grace’s hand, rise on shaking legs, and reach for the guard’s outstretched hand.

But Tharin grabs my other arm first.

“I’m going with her,” he snaps. He cuts his gaze to me, concern evident.

Thank you, I say silently. He must understand, because he gives a short nod before turning back toward the Captain of the Guard.

The moment I take Avara’s hand, we shift. The air constricts, the world melts, and then we’re in a dimmer room that swelters with warmth. My head is still spinning, my lunch tossing and turning, when the captain’s strong arm lands on my shoulder and pushes me downward.

“Kneel,” she says.

I drop, half falling, my palms slapping onto the stonework. Tharin is right there with me, down on one knee, his head bent in a show of deference. Flames flicker in my periphery, sending light and shadow dancing across the ground. Probably the source of the heat too, since it comes in waves from that direction. When the world stops spinning, I raise my head.

The king sits on a throne just ahead, head propped on his fist as he scowls at me. A few guards linger off to the side, but much of the room is empty and dark .

“This is the woman you saw this morning?” Vasilius asks someone.

“It is.”

I twist my head toward the voice. Now I know why Katherine wasn’t at lunch. She was here. And the bitch looks all too proud of herself, arms crossed, chin raised, and a sneer on her pointed face. Should have known it was too much to hope for us all to get along.

“What is it you thought you saw?” I demand, pushing back to my feet. I glance between her and the king, waiting for an answer.

“She”—the king points a finger at Katherine—“says she saw you out before dawn, and kissing my brother at that.”

Fucking hell. I let the accusation roll over me, trying to show no reaction.

“And here you are, his guard at your side,” the king adds.

Tharin, still kneeling, looks up. His form is rigid, hand still on the pommel of his sword. Holy hell, he wouldn’t defend me before the king, would he?

“Tell me, Mira,” Vasilius says. “How long as this little affair been going on?”

“Affair?” I gape. “We haven’t…” I shake my head. “His mark is not on me. You know that.”

Vasilius shoves to his feet. “What I know is that you are bound to me . Mine, until I decide otherwise.” He stalks toward me, staring me down like I’m an inch high. “You were the one who gave such an impassioned plea about wanting to become my bride, my queen.” A cruel smile pulls at the corner of his mouth. He stops an armlength in front of me. Warmth pours off his skin, causing sweat to dew on mine. “Ironic that my brother didn’t want you to enter The Choosing then. Were all your words a lie, Mira? Had you chosen him even then? ”

“No.” The urge to step back is so strong, but Avara is there, blocking me in. “No. I’d never met him then. I promise.”

“But you have now.” He leans in. “And you prefer him?”

My back arches in my attempt to put some distance between him, but all I seem to do is make myself unsteady, like prey baring its neck for a predator to strike.

“Funny. I can’t smell him on you, but I could smell your scent in his room, his bed no less.”

My stomach plummets. This isn’t an interrogation or questioning—it’s a trial, and I’m already damned. And if he’s been in Lysandir’s rooms…

“Where is Lysandir?” I find a kernel of courage deep inside and cling to it, begging it to fortify me.

“See,” Katherine snips. “She only cares about him, not you.”

Vasilius turns his head toward her so slowly that it raises the fine hairs along my arms. “Leave.”

“But my king—”

“Leave.” He flicks a hand toward Avara, and then she’s moving away from me over to the other young woman gaping at us.

“But I—”

“Have done more than enough,” Vasilius says. “Return her to her room while I deal with this.”

Katherine stammers again, looking affronted, but she barely gets the beginnings of another protest out before Avara grabs her arm and is gone.

Vasilius sighs and rubs his forehead. “Better. Now, where were we?”

“Where is Lysandir?” I ask again. I stand a little straighter. He dismissed his captain. The king doesn’t see me as a threat, but if he’s done something horrible to the man I love, I swear—

My brain trips over itself .

I love him. My mouth parts. My God, I really do.

“Come to some realization?” Mocking amusement shimmers in the king’s gaze.

I snap my mouth shut and all but snarl at him.

The bastard just grins wider. “You do care for him, it seems. How interesting. And frustrating. Does he know? He must, right?”

Vasilius waves a hand toward the flames burning in a wide column on the other side of the room. All at once they die away, and I let out a strangled scream at the sight beyond. Lysandir is there, kneeling on the ground, cream-colored shirt sticking to his skin, hair plastered to his face and back.

He looks at me, eyes wide and pleading. “Mira.”

I’m running toward him before I can think, but someone grabs my arm, jerking me back. I twist, slapping at the hand on my arm.

“Mira,” Tharin says. “Don’t.”

“But he—” I gesture wildly.

But Tharin doesn’t let go.

“So desperate.” Vasilius tsks at me, shaking his head. “Is it love?”

“What have you done to him?” If not for Tharin holding me back, I’d likely punch him, king or no.

“He’s fine,” the king says. “Though even a prince of fire can have trouble taking the heat after a while, isn’t that so, my brother?”

Lysandir remains on the ground, grimacing, and I only pray that’s the extent of what’s been done to him. If he’s been tortured, suffered some other way too—

My throat starts to close up, and its everything I can do to pull in one breath after another.

“What to do? What to do?” Vasilius starts to pace back and forth. “Here I am, trying to find my bride, and my brother goes and seduces one of my women.” He pauses and looks at Lysandir. “ It’s treason, you know.”

Lysandir doesn’t argue, just hangs his head, and it guts me, absolutely tears me up to see him like this to the point I can’t take it anymore.

“It’s my fault!” I step toward the king, demanding his attention. When he gives it, sliding his imperious gaze my way, my skin tingles from the pressure of his regard. Nothing in life has prepared me for this, but I summon everything I have anyway to make my stand.

“Mira!” Tharin hisses my name and hardens his grip.

I roll my shoulder, trying to shake him off.

“I kissed him this morning. I went to his room. I lay in his bed.” Those were my choices.

The king stalks back my way. I brace, holding my spine straight. His gaze dips to Tharin’s hand on my arm, and the king shoos him away. With a quick look of apology to me then Lysandir, Tharin goes.

Vasilius stops just in front of me, staring me down. “You are bound to me.”

“Yes,” I say. “And I wanted to love you. I did, with all of my heart. I wasn’t lying when I said I’d dreamed for years about coming here and about becoming your bride. I really thought that I could be perfect for you.” A strange calm settles over me as I share my truth. “You have many qualities that make you a great king, and many women would be happy to be your bride. But unfortunately, I am no longer one of them. I wanted to love you but…” I turn my head to look at Lysandir. It’s hard to make out the look on his face with the distance between us, but just the sight of him, there, breathing, and suffering for caring for me, makes the words flow even more easily. “But I fell in love with Lysandir instead.”

When I look back at the king, any illusion of humor has faded completely from his stony features. I wait, braced for his reply, when he turns on his heel and strides back to his chair. He drops into, propping one elbow on his need and leaning his head on his fist as he continues to look between the two of us in silence.

“What to do with you two,” the king muses aloud to the quiet room. His attention lingers on me. “Perhaps I should just marry you.”

I gasp.

“No!” Lysandir cries out, leaping to his feet.

Vasilius holds an open palm toward him, and Lysandir draws still and silent.

“It would be a fitting punishment for such a betrayal,” the king drawls.

Darkness creeps in at the edge of my vision, and despite the warmth of the room, I’m suddenly cold.

This is it. This is how the vision comes true.

Somewhere behind me, a door groans open. I dare a glance behind me in time to see Elaine enter, making her way toward us on her cane—the spear.

“What’s going on here?” she demands.

“I must deal with this treason,” the king replies, unmoving save for his mouth.

“Treason?” she scoffs. Her gaze darts between myself, Lysandir, and the king. “Have they aligned themselves with the Unseelie then?”

“No,” the king grumbles.

The end of her cane clacks against the stone as she continues to advance, all eyes in the room on her. She stops next to me. “What has this young woman done then?”

Vasilius lifts his head from his fist and sits straighter in his seat, staring down at me along the length of his nose. “She has broken the rules of The Choosing and been seen with another.” There’s a pause before he looks at his next victim. “My brother.”

“Ah.” She looks between us, seeming not the least bit surprised, which is shocking in and of itself. She stops on me. “You love my son?”

There’s no judgment in her gaze. No condemnation, simply a mother asking what’s probably one of the most important questions one can.

“I do,” I say.

She nods and turns toward Lysandir. “And you love this young woman?”

But it’s not his mother he looks at when he answers. Instead, he steps to the side, looking past her directly as me as he says, “I love her with my whole heart.”

Oh, Lysandir. He may as well have reached into my chest and spread my ribs apart to speak directly to my soul.

“I see.” Elaine folds her hands over one another on the ball of her cane and regards the king. “Well, I would say they have done you a favor by making your choice simpler.”

“Simpler?” The king speaks the word echoing in my head. “Whatever shall I do with them?”

“It should be obvious,” she replies. “The thing is done. You don’t want to marry someone who is in love with someone else, do you? Someone who is favored by your brother and who would be a good match for him? Do you not think it would do my weary spirit well to see both my sons wed before I pass?”

I suck in a breath and hold it, barely able to comprehend what’s happening. Hope balloons in my chest, and I try so desperately to hold it down, not to let it get out of hand. But my control slips when I look at Lysandir and see the same wonder and hope reflected in his face .

“Fine. Fine.” Vasilius sighs and slips down in his chair. “I see that not even the rules of The Choosing can keep you apart, but some discretion would be appreciated. Perhaps you two should stay cloistered until the end of The Choosing. Wouldn’t want the entire court to get the wrong impression of me.”

My heart skips a beat. “Are you saying—”

But I never get the question out. Lysandir is there, having shifted directly in front of me. He pulls me into his arms holding me close.

“Mira. My Mira,” he whispers against my hair. I cling to him, my legs barely holding me.

“This is real. We can be together?” My fingertips dig into his sweat-dampened shirt as I look up into his wide, glowing eyes. The bubbling feeling within me presses at my ribs, trying to burst free. A laugh bubbles up my throat, but nothing is funny.

Lysandir is mine. I am his.

The king coughs, drawing our attention. Lysandir releases me just enough for us to turn toward his brother, but his arm is still wrapped around my middle, holding me close to his side.

“While I am sure you two are excited, we have other important things to discuss. Firstly, I cannot remove your bond to me.” The king points to his wrist. “It will remain until I have chosen my queen, but that shall not be you.” He shares a look with Elaine, who has hobbled to his side, and then asks, “Are there any others who would choose someone else if given the choice?”

Oh… I swallow, unsure if he really wants the truth. My gaze darts away. Lysandir must sense my uncertainty because he adjusts his grip on my hip.

“There are.” The king sighs, shoulders slumping. “Does anyone want to be my bride? Other than what’s-her-name that tried to sneak in my bed this morning and then told me of you and my brother when I tried to make her leave.” He waves his hand about, searching for the name.

She what? I nearly gape in shock. We weren’t supposed to have such relations with the king until he chose a queen. I suppose I’m not one to talk, since I snuck into Lysandir’s room, kissed him, and more, but at least we had a mutual understanding. From the way Vasilius just spoke about her, he and Katherine certainly did not.

“Katherine.” He snaps his fingers.

“Oh, you cannot marry her,” Elaine says.

He winces. “I’d rather not.”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” I say, trying to remain in his good graces. “There are human women here who would marry you.” Cora for one, or rather, she wants the freedom such a marriage would grant. Possibly Zoe or Gabriella, but I can’t be sure.

Damn, maybe there aren’t any who want him for just him, but I’ve already spoken, and I’m not about to take it back.

“I don’t suppose you’ll tell me which ones are not interested?” he asks.

“I…” I pull in a deep breath. “That information is not mine to reveal, but maybe you could talk to each woman yourself? Assure them there are no ill repercussions if they have changed their mind? Each one I have spoken to would like to remain here in your court, even if becoming your bride is not their heart’s desire.”

“More humans here is good,” the dowager reminds him. “No matter the reason.”

“Do any of you know?” the king asks the others present.

They all shake their head, even Tharin. Funny, I would have thought nothing escaped his notice. Stranger still, there’s a hint of a smile on his face, and it doesn’t look sarcastic or forced at all. The oddness of it makes me want to rub at my chest .

Other than a quick response to his brother, Lysandir has remained quiet but attentive, almost like he worries one word out of his mouth might destroy this tentative hope we have or send our fates tumbling off course. But he’s a solid, reassuring presence at my side.

And mine. My God, he’s really mine.

“None of this is going as I’d hoped.” Vasilius shifts forward in his chair. “I’d have you two keep out of sight until The Choosing is over. Be together if you wish, but stay in the royal quarters. Order the maids not to talk about this. I’d have it kept quiet.”

A sensible suggestion. Finally.

“The other women may worry. We will need to tell them something,” Elaine says.

“Fine.” He waves his hand. “They can know.” He stands, his voice rising as he does. “Do tell them that the rules of The Choosing are to be obeyed from here on out. If their heart lies elsewhere, fine, I shall soon discover that from them. But they are to keep such feelings to themselves until this is done. I won’t have more of this.” He gestures to us.

The others might be jealous, but they can get their happy endings too. Adeline and her guard. Alex and Grace. I hum with excitement at the thought of telling them, of encouraging them to be honest with the king when he asks. Things really are turning out better than I ever dreamed possible.

“You’re certain of your choice,” Vasilius asks his brother.

Lysandir grins down at me. “As certain as anything in my life.”

“She is a lovely dancer,” the king remarks. He tilts his head to the side, smirking, waiting to see how his blow lands.

But Lysandir, if he’s bothered by the king’s jab, doesn’t show it.

“I’m sure she is,” he replies evenly.

Vasilius frowns. “Not a great kisser though. ”

“Vasilius,” Elaine hisses and lifts her cane, almost like she might whack him with it, but thinks better of it.

“I disagree.” Lysandir cups my cheek, capturing my full attention. “I think she’s a wonderful kisser.” He pulls me close and leans in, and I think he means to prove it right there.

But Vasilius groans, and Lysandir halts, a hint of mischief in his eyes.

“Have the decency not to do it in front of me.” He thumps back down into his seat. “It’s a pity you know, you were one of my favorites after…” His eyes close as if he’s in pain, and his hand balls into a fist on the armrest of the chair.

After Bailey. The weight of her loss makes the room a little dimmer, and I lean into Lysandir for comfort.

“Go, both of you. Take your happiness elsewhere,” the king commands.

Lysandir doesn’t wait before he shifts us out of the room.