Page 22 of A Kiss From a Faerie King

LAURELLE

With my hand locked in the faerie king’s, he guides me from his room and into the hall.

Our bare feet smack lightly against the tile. The whole palace is filled with golden light filtering in from the carved windows. The fact that we are inside a tree really demonstrates the grandeur of Emrys’s magic and how free-flowing it is in this realm. I try to take in as much as possible, but many ornate doors are shut.

A few sprites fly in from the window as we continue down the hall. Their thin wings buzz as they soar towards us. Glowing bodies barely bigger than my finger dance in front of my face before weaving themselves into my curls. A few perch on my shoulders and whisper riddles into my ears.

“The time has come,” one whispers. “It must be done.”

“Lest our realm turns to muck,” another adds, “you and the king must fu?—”

“Be gone,” Emrys commands, waving a clawed hand through my curls and disrupting the sprites. His dark eyes blaze with authority. Even the few sprites collecting on his shoulders follow his command—their colorful bodies cooling to paler shades.

“The sister said something similar. What am I meant to do for you?”

Unease tickles my stomach. Am I no more than a pawn to Emrys as well? Is he using me for his own means, just as my father did?

Emrys is quiet as he leads me through a set of wooden doors. They are ornately carved with pictures of oak trees and a pair of antlers circling above them in a simple replication of Emrys’s crown. Gently, the king takes my arm and helps me to the table. It’s a long, glistening creation comprised of pale-colored wood. Around it sit ten velvet chairs, but only two place settings are arranged across from each other at the middle of the table.

The king pulls out my chair, and I slip onto it. I wait for him to move to his own seat until I feel his claws on my shoulders. Giving them a gentle squeeze, I look up at him. His face is earnest, his dark eyes swimming with a depth of emotion.

“All I want from you right now, Laurelle, is to feed you and make you happy. What my subjects keep pestering you about isn’t something I want you worrying about.”

“But I will worry if you aren’t honest with me.” My voice is small but clear.

“Soon, my blossom. All will be revealed, but for now, I need you to eat.”

With a wave of his hand, platefuls of delicious-smelling food cover the table. There are several jars of fresh jam in all different colors. Dark and light-colored bread lay steaming inside towel-covered baskets. There’s an array of fried meats and soft cheeses.

My apprehension is quickly forgotten as my stomach growls loudly.

Emrys rounds the table and stands across from me. Reaching out, his claws clink on the ceramic plate as he begins piling food high on my plate. My tongue licks over my lips as I watch him expertly butter a piece of brown bread before laying a glossy helping of scrambled eyes on top. This is a feast even my wealthy father would be envious of.

The glass goblet in front of me fills with a pale gold liquid. I raise my brow at Emrys as he sets my overflowing plate in front of me.

“Apple juice,” he explains.

I giggle despite myself. It’s such a mundane drink for somewhere so…otherworldly. Or is it laced with something like the wine had been? I grip my fork and meet his stare again.

“Is it…like the wine? And the food, will it make me drunk like last night?”

“No,” he says, piling a helping of bacon onto his own plate.

“Do a lot of humans live here?”

I remember the ones I had seen last night. Their eyes milky and unseeing. Their mouths open in erotic sighs—drunk on wine and pleasure.

“Only naughty ones.” Emrys’s grin is wicked, and it sends a thrill down my spine.

One glance at his mouth, and I remember how it felt against me. How his tongue had tasted and feasted on my most private flesh. How I had ridden?—

I cough before taking a small sip of my juice. The crisp tartness explodes on my tongue. There's no need to get carried away with those thoughts already. Besides, I am starving.

I devour my pile of eggs and take a few bites of the cured ham. The salty taste leaves me in need of something sweet. Reaching for a pot of red jam, I slather it on a buttered roll and take a bite. The jam is thick and sugary as it coats my tongue. It takes of strawberries and some other fruit I can’t place.

Moaning again, I say to Emrys, “This is delicious.”

He chuckles darkly. “I’m sure it’s only second in sweetness to your pussy.”

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