A grove like the one placed on the central platform during the games, reminding the fae of their homeland. Only this one has real trees, green and lush, and the birds flitting from branch to branch are small, round, and colorful like dollops of paint. More importantly, they don’t seem interested in eating my face.
Two guards step forward, their faces unfamiliar, heads crowned with those tall conic hats, wings creaking at their backs. I wonder idly if Eosphors really look like that, with elongated heads and wings with hinges in need of oiling, or if it’s just a fancy.
Without a word, the guards wave for me to follow them toward another pavilion, this one draped in gold and black with silver lamps swaying all around it, giving off yellow light.
Swallowing past a throat gone dry, I march after them down a narrow, paved path, past the marble statue of what looks like an Eosphor… woman?
I don’t recall the Eosphors having a gender like us. Her face is small and symmetrical, and the wings stretching out behind her are covered in symbols. Her marble robes cling to her curves, a wide ribbon covered in more symbols twining over the breasts, hips, and legs.
“Hurry up,” one of the guards barks, “His Majesty theAnaxis waiting.”
Frowning, I trot after them, and then stumble to another halt when they suddenly stop a few paces away from the pavilion. A floral incense wafts out, jasmine and amber, warm and cloying. I take a breath and fight a cough.
The guards stand at attention, backs rigid, hands at their sides. It looks like this is as far as they will go.
While I debate what I should do—simply walk into the pavilion?—I hear metal chimes. A tall fae man appears in a gray tunic and pants, his dark hair pulled back from his narrow, long face in a braid, in the traditional way of the fae.
He pulls a flap of golden silk aside and gestures at me to approach. “His Majesty theAnaxwill see you now.”
Throwing back my shoulders, straightening my scrawny body as much as possible, I stride past him and into the pavilion.
In for asilverling, in for a goldenaurum, right? Let’s see how close they let me this time. How protected the old king is in this secret garden of his.
It’s slightly dim inside, the airy black drapes fluttering on every side, cutting off most of the daylight. Soaring candelabra with flickering candles frame a throne, this one seeming to grow out of the ground—perhaps the trunk of an old tree carved into a tall-backed chair.
And on it sits a young fae man, his silver-blond hair gathered loosely off his face, a golden circlet gleaming on his brow. Pale eyes regard me out of a cool, handsome face. I can’t quite tell their hue. Dressed in dark blue robes, he rests his hands on the armrests carved in the shape of dragons.
Realizing I’m standing there staring, I hurriedly drop into an awkward curtsy.
Because here I am, in the exalted presence of the King of the Fae.
“Approach,” he says, his voice sonorous, seeming to echo inside the pavilion. He lifts one hand to gesture at me, gemstones flashing on his beringed fingers.
Straightening, I take two steps nearer, gazing at that handsome face few have had the chance to see from up close. He doesn’t look old at all, that’s my first and overwhelming thought. He looks young, with that long, unlined face which is a beauty standard for the fae, the aquiline nose, the straight jaw that isn’t as square as a human man’s.
That isn’t as hard as Jai’s.
That cold sensation is back as I stand under the scrutiny of his pale eyes. I didn’t expect the impact of his presence, the way it crushes my chest, or the chill it emanates.
Where Jai’s presence heats me up, the fae king’s cuts me like an icy blade. Yet he possesses that aura, that pull that has me stepping even nearer.
He’s alone in the pavilion. How is he so confident I can’t harm him? I had fully expected to find more guards and probably also a few servants inside.
“So you are the volunteer,” he says, his low, deep voice piercing me. “The one that caught Athdara’s eye.”
The chill spreads through me, and I swear it turns the dagger nestled in the folds of my skirt into a piece of ice, but I lift my chin. I never thought how it would affect me to have him observing me so carefully. So detachedly.
The memory of Jai’s arms around me, his warm breath on my hair, comes unbidden, sudden and all-consuming.
I shake it off.
“Oh, that’s right, I was told you don’t speak. That you are mute. How intriguing.” He now leans forward, eyes narrowing, a faint crease appearing between them. “Do you have a tongue or was it cut out?”
Wondering if I should stick my tongue out for him to see, I shrug.
“So you can hear me. Let me look at you.” Power brushes against my skin, raising goosebumps. What is he doing? Only dragonbone can detect magic, right?
I take a step back.