Page 7 of A Kiss From a Faerie King

I lift my hand towards the meadow around us.

A few unlucky humans mill about down here. The punishment for breaking into my realm is an eternity of servitude. Not that any of them seem to mind it. They’re drunk on pleasure and an odious amount of faerie wine. I watch one human woman pass. Her eyes glazed over and heavy-lidded. She’s been here for almost a century. Her bare feet snag in the damp grass as she’s led by the sleeves of her sheer dress towards one of the many alcoves.

A debauched scene of her and some of my faeries will ensue shortly. The meadow does that to everyone. Wildflowers weave together in a mass of colors and fragrances while each is laced with magic to lower your inhibitions and heat your blood. A novelty I enjoyed for many centuries that I now find no longer holds much appeal.

My heart longs for more—a meeting and binding of my soul with another’s. Part of that desire stems from my guardianship ofThe Great Oakand a need to complete the prophecy. However, I felt this restlessness within me before the first leaf fell. An unease that no amount of faerie wine and naked flesh could solve.

Despite the confusion within myself, one thing is clear: the human I need to complete the ritual is not currently in my service. It’s been a few months since the last one slipped through. My faeries and sprites quickly sank their claws into them before I even got the chance to consider them as a partner in this ritual.

A part of me knows that even if my faeries hadn’t gotten to our last human first, they wouldn’t have been the right choice. I will not take just anyone intoThe Great Oak. Whoever I choose to complete the ritual will be it for me. My mate, my queen…I would not sullyThe Great Oakwith anyone less than that.

Sitting on my oak throne, a gnarled branch digs into my back as my crown tightens at the base. The wood of my throne feels weaker—hollow—indicating that I’m failing at the one role I was created for. Closing my eyes, I inhale deeply. The sweet and smoky scent of the meadow fills my lungs as my hair blows in a gentle breeze.

Great Oak, I pray silently,hear me. Guide me and help me so that I can serve you. Bring me the one I need for the ritual before it is too late for us all.

The wind shifts as the leaves above me rustle softly. I would take it as a sign thatThe Great Oakheard my plea, but this isn’t the first time I’ve called and been ignored. If the human I need doesn’t arrive soon, we may be doomed.

“Tick-Tock,” says Pond.

“Tick-Tock,” repeats Puddle.

“Time’s almost up,” declares Port.

Breathing deeply through my nose, I raise my hand to swat at the pestering sprites when my whole body goes rigid. It’s faint—barely rising above the earthly scent of the meadow—but it’s there. Sweet and warm and unlike anything I’ve smelt before. My mouth waters from just the barest hint of it as I rise from my throne on wobbly legs.

The three sisters notice the change in my demeanor, but before they can give another infernal rhyme, a shrill scream cuts through the tittering of the faerie gathering. I huff a breath as the faeries around me shiver and shake, their excitement palpable as they shriek in unison.

“Human!” they wail, buzzing on translucent wings towards our latest arrival.

My subjects swarm towards the clearing—where the veil between my realm and the human world is thinnest—and I am powerless but to follow them. Rubbing the base of my crown, my head feels twice as heavy as I remember I am king.

My curiosity is peaked but I will wait for them to return with ourguest.

There are various entrances all over the human world above that allow them access to my realm. Most find themselves here by accident—a few hedonistic souls do, however, seek us out. Less so now, as I’m sure the tales of my realm have turned into foreboding myths and legends.

This particular entrance has entranced even the most cautious human.

Though, if they have ventured this far intoThe Woods,aren’t they looking for ruination somehow? Only a truly desperate soul would come this far, and the fate befalling them by plucking my flower is better than one at the hands of the other beasts who roam the world above.

My lips pull back at the thought of this being another fur trader. There’s been an influx of them lately—greedy souls who don’t make for fun playthings. Dreadfully dull—even for humans. Their profession of killing and skinning for coin does not mix well with our faerie wine. The dozen of them wandering the fields with their open mouths and milky eyes is a testament to that.

If nothing else, I hope this thief who tried to steal my blossom is at least pleasant to look at. Their scent alone is more intriguing than a dozen fur traders.

Shrieks and screams of delight echo around me. Even the damp grass of the meadow seems to lean towards our newest arrival. The trees that encase my meadow sway on a gentle breeze. A few glowing bugs weave between their strong trunks. This meadow—my realm—seems foreign, yet I know it to be as familiar as my hand.

Something cold skates down my spine. I glance behind me to see if it’s one of my subjects, but only a gentle wind greets me. I’m not given long to ponder my unease as the wails of pleasure from my faeries get closer. The hum of their tiny wings echo through the tree line.

I hold my breath as they approach. My lips twitch, urging me to pull them back from my teeth.No need to snarl at our guest, I think.Yet, at least.

Branches snap as they pour through and into the meadow. My faeries' bodies glow as they fly around. They float through the grass, dance along the branches of the trees, and with all their force, yank whoever was unlucky enough to try and steal from me.

A decidedly feminine whimper has my ears perking up. My shoulders droop slightly as my subjects drag her into the clearing. She swats at them, but it’s useless. My faeries cover her completely, and I can only make out her hand. Then, only a glimpse of her foot and a curling tendril of her dark hair.

This angers me more than her intrusion.

“Enough!” I command.

In an instant, my faeries stop their frenzy and retreat from the human. Settling their sparkling forms into the grass at her feet, casting her a dim glow. The moon overhead illuminates her enough. My heart pounds as I take her in. This is no intruder—no thief in need of punishment. She is a goddess who walks the world above. The sun cast in mortal flesh. The moon sculpted into a female form.

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