Page 11 of A Kiss From a Faerie King

“The king will be pleased, I can tell,” chuckles Port.

“We must hurry. No time to dwell,” chastizes Puddle, who’s finished with my hair. My curls are perfectly formed and glossy in the light. Carefully, she drapes a few dark tendrils along my temple before braiding a top section of hair back from my face.

“Can you three stop speaking in riddles and give me a full answer?” I ground out.

“No,” they say in unison.

I roll my eyes as they continue working on me. They’re stronger than they look, and I’m certain I couldn’t fight them off. Besides, where would I even escape to? I fell through the ground. I’m sure there’s no way back to the surface unless one of them helps me, and if they already believe I belong to their king…

My options for escape are slim, so I shall do what I have always done and bide my time. When the opportunity to flee arises, I will take it. I have to. I can't stay here even if I have nowhere to return to.

Pond rubs her warm hand across my cheeks to add a bit of pink dust to them. Next, she uses the same hand across both my eyelids and lashes to darken them. Lastly, a dark-colored berry appears that she rubs across my lips, turning them into a deep red. This is no modest amount of make-up. My mother would be horrified at my wanton appearance.

When they slip the sheer gown over me, I know for certain that my mother would’ve keeled over at the sight.

The thin green fabric hugs my body, molding to each curve that was deemed unladylike even when I was still a girl. The fabric is thin enough to show everything from my hard nipples to the shadowy place between my thighs. The color warms the golden brown of my skin and makes my dark eyes shine.

My chest rises and falls as I take in my appearance. I look strange—like I belong in a place like this. I should feel ashamed or uncomfortable, but as my bare feet curl onto the cool tiles, I feel…free. The strict rules of society don’t apply here, and for a fleeting moment, I let myself consider the life I’d have down here. Of course, there’s always a possibility that their idea that myservice-to-the-kingwill result in my beheading.

Though, judging by the hot stare the king looked me over with, I think he has another plan for my body rather than turning it into a corpse. What would that be like? To be owned by a creature like him? Would it be as freeing as I feel now?

The three sisters sigh and break me from that thought. I’m trapped here and need to figure out a way to escape. Whatever the king’s ownership of me entails, I am certain I do not wish to find out.

“She looks just right,” Port states. “The king will be pleased with our work.”

“I can’t go out there like this.” My protests sound half-hearted even to my own ears. “It’s immodest—immoral. To show this much skin is unbecoming.”

“Those words don’t exist here,” snaps Puddle. “Forget them, or you will be punished.”

I swallow hard as they take my arms and skirt once more and pull me from the room. The palace around us passes in a golden blur. My feet feel the cool grass as we reemerge outside. The sun has set, and there is a chill to the floral-scented air. Glowing bugs and faeries weave between the thicket of trees. There is a hum of life as the large, pale moon hovers above, casting us all in its blue light.

How is the sky visible if we are underground?

The three of them lead me back towards the king’s throne. Faeries and sprites of all shapes, sizes, and colors sip from golden goblets. They dance, their bodies shimmering and naked. Music floats through the air as a few engage in some sort of dance. It looks more like a mating ritual with their grinding bodies and wandering hands.

Do they expect me to allow the king to touch me in such a way?

My breath catches as I register more figures in the meadow’s clearing. They’re too big to be faeries or sprites. Their skin is too dull. Tucked amongst the creatures celebrating are humans. Or at least the husks of some of them. Their hair is long and unkempt, as is their clothing. Their eyes are milky—clouded as they drink from their own goblets. Their mouths are red, like mine, but twisted into pleasured smiles.

Any thought that they could help me escape is quickly forgotten.

“That could’ve been you,” whispers Puddle, who returns to her original small size and perches on my shoulder. “Still could be if you’re not careful.”

I suck in a breath as the other two sisters continue pulling me into the clearing. I try to delay as best I can, but it is of no use. My toes curl into the grass as we stop before the king. He sits shirtless. His pale chest is muscular, as are his arms. He’s a large man—male? Whatever he is, his figure is most imposing.

His throne is carved into the base of a large oak tree. Hallowed out to accommodate his strong thighs that are barely contained in his dark linen pants. His black eyes miss nothing as they survey me from head to toe. My nipples harden further, and I wretch my arms free from the sisters to try and cover myself. A reflex I can’t help.

The king growls, baring his sharp teeth, and I dip my head. My face heats, and shame curdles my stomach. Am I embarrassed of my body? Am I uncomfortable because that’s how I feel or because I was taught to be?

The music around me stops, and my heart speeds up as I hear the creaking of wood followed by strong footsteps stomping towards me. The king’s scent reaches my nose—dark and woodsy. It invades my mouth and chokes me, turning my skin warm and my lips dry.

His feet come into view. Before I can say anything, his strong hand wraps around my neck and jerks my face upwards. The touch doesn’t hurt but leaves me in no doubt of his power. His thumb drags along the pulse at the side of my throat. My heart beats wildly as I meet his unrelenting stare.

At this angle, he’s easily a foot taller than me. My neck cranes all the way back to look up at him. His crown cast in moonlight makes him look even more dangerous. I should be immobile with fear. I most certainly shouldn’t be overcome with this foreign yet not entirely unpleasant sensation. A warmth spreads from my stomach and into my lower extremities, causing them to prickle with awareness.

“Do not hide yourself from me,” the king, Emrys, growls. His sharp teeth gnashing.

His power overwhelms me. My knees wobble, and shockingly, I want to obey him. Shame still holds me back, and for the first time in my life, I feel anger toward my parents for instilling it in me. I want to be wild and wanton in a way befitting of this place even if that thought is ridiculous.

---