Page 23 of A Kiss From a Faerie King

My face warms, and I shake my head. “You don’t talk like a king.”

His grin is all teeth. “Then all the kings you’ve met must have been quite boring.”

I nod. They were nothing like Emrys. Not as caring or considerate. They didn’t look at me as if I hung the moon in the sky or was the sun in which his world orbited. No, they looked at me—at everyone—only to assess how they may be of value.

My father may not have been a king, but he was cut from a similar cloth.

Unease rakes its icy nails down my spine as I think back to how Emrys avoided my question earlier. As much as I want to trust him, a small bit of apprehension holds me back. My heart screams at me to submit to him fully, but my mind can’t stop questioning everything.

Setting my fork down, I take another sip from my crystal goblet before squaring my shoulders.

“Emrys, what is meant to happen to me here?” I ask.

“You belong to me.” His answer is quick. “Your place is here with me, forever, as is your punishment for plucking my flower.”

Again, I raise a brow and gesture towards the table.

“This doesn’t seem like much of a punishment.”

Emrys’s grin deepens. “Punishments can always be pleasurable.”

I smile slightly before biting my lip and looking away.

“Why not turn me into one of the other humans? What’s all this talk from the sprites? The sisters said I was different. What are they talking about?”

The king shakes his head, his white hair floating around his shoulders.

“I don’t want you thinking about that. It’s not?—”

“Please,” I interrupt. “Please, be honest with me, Emrys. I want to trust you, but I can’t if you are keeping secrets from me.”

I know it’s quite a demand to make of a king who has ruled for centuries. To demand he lay all of his truths at my feet is laughable. However, I have to know. I can’t enter into any sort of relationship with him without understanding my true purpose for being here.

After a moment, Emrys sighs and rubs a clawed hand down his face.

“This is going to be a problem,” he sighs.

My heart pounds. “What is?”

“You, my blossom,” he says, “when you use that word. When you beg me so prettily, I find I can deny you nothing.”

“Oh,” I say. “Well, good?”

“Good,” he chuckles. “You're going to bring me to my knees, Laurelle. Never has anyone had this much power over me.”

My lips twitch even as my cheeks warm. “I’m sorry?”

Emrys laughs and reaches towards me. His thumb wipes at the corner of my mouth and comes away sticky with remnants of my strawberry jam. Licking it off his finger, he groans.

“Too sweet for your own good,” he states. “Alright, my blossom, I will tell you all you need to know. In due time.”

“But—”

“I know that’s not what you want to hear, but I promise you will not make any decision without being fully informed. Do you trust me? At least in that regard?”

My throat feels dry. To take this leap of faith with a faerie king, no less, is asking a lot. Yet Emrys has shown me more kindness and understanding than anyone in a long time. I owe it to him to extend the same courtesy, at least for the time being.

“I do,” I respond. “But I want to know the full truth before long.”

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