Page 56 of A Bargain with the Fae King

Yes, if he finds May, as I dearly hope, then battle will be inevitable.

“I’m ready whenever you are.” I stretch out the edge of my skirts in a mock curtsey.

Despite my playful act, he frowns. “I’ll be out in a few minutes.”

I fiddle with the bracelet in my hand, the backpack slung over one shoulder, when Riven finally appears in the sitting room, wearing his full armor and weaponry. Karin’s already left, off to deal with other chores as men and women of the court arrive and ball preparations begin.

“Let’s go.” The command is simple and cold, full of the strange tension that’s formed between us.

Moments later, he shifts us outside amidst a throng of people and horses.

But the change of scenery isn’t the only difference. The sad warrior is gone. The Riven who stands before me now is the one from the throne room. A wicked grin spreads across his face, his eyes twinkle with confidence and mischief, and his shoulders are squared and strong.

If I hadn’t been with him moments ago, I’d have assumed he’d switched places with an arrogant, evil twin. And screw that guy. The few times we’d been together, he’d been such an ass.

“Ambrose, are we ready to move?” His voice thunders with authority and practiced ease.

Ambrose’s broad grin mirrors Riven’s as he joins us. Real or fake? Around them, the guard perk up, some marked in the gold colors of the elite and others marked in common green, confidence marking their own features.

Riven moves on from Ambrose, talking to another set of fae in the yard.

Pride glows in Ambrose’s eyes as he watches his guard organize the final preparations. How long has he been their captain? A few rare strands of silver in his hair capture the sunlight, shimmering in its glow. A dash of fine lines accents his features. He’s still strong and obviously more than capable of his role, but he must be well over a hundred years old. A relic.

“I hope you’re not thinking I’m more ruggedly handsome than our young king.” Ambrose turns to me and winks, chuckling all the while.

My cheeks flame as I drop my gaze to the ground. Shit, I guess I did look like I was checking him out. And I was, but not like that.

“That’s not… I’m sorry.” Gosh, no good way to recover on this one.

Blessedly, he wanders off to join Riven, leaving me to stew in my own embarrassment.

Forest circles the outer yard on the two sides not bordered by the palace-like city resembling a small Virideria. However, the trees here are not as dense and consist mostly of varieties of pine. Well, the ones I can distinguish. The air here holds a crispness that reminds me of the mountains, and sure enough, tall hills stick up on the horizon, their crests touched by low-hanging, gray clouds.

“I’ll take that if you want.” Galen’s voice stirs me from my thoughts. His arm waits in the air between us as he motions for my pack.

“Oh, sure, thank you.” The strap slides from my shoulder.

“It’s no problem.” He flings the pack over his shoulder with ease, sending the golden earring—a leaf—dangling from one ear swaying. “Ambrose said we’re to…what’s the phrase?” He taps a finger to his chin as his lips pull tight to one side.

“Stick to you like glue,” Sylvie finishes for him, coming to stand beside her companion.

These two really know how to lift my spirits. Thank goodness for that. I look between them with a smile. For the first time since we shifted here, I don’t feel like a flaming torch stuck into the ground.

A sharp whistle cuts through the cacophony of activity and sound. Fae rush around, spurred into action by the signal, leaving us an island of stillness. My toes bounce in my boots, ready to join the fray.

“Time to go,” Galen says with a tight smile.

Riven and Ambrose join us. Together, we form a tight-knit group of five. Much as I hate Riven’s kingly attitude, I don’t balk when he takes my hand and gives it a little squeeze. It’s probably meant to be reassuring, but having Ambrose on my other side, bracing me between, is much more comforting.

A moment later, the world bends and warps as we shift from the outer yard of Arbrean.

Chapter 18

Theworldthattakesshape around us is nothing like the one we’ve left. Behind me, it is—yellowing grasses, colorful trees, life everywhere.

But I barely notice that, not with the host of fae standing just beyond a visible line on the ground. They’re dressed in predominately grays and blues. Their neat rows, carriages, and men and women on horseback are formidable, but it’s the land causing gooseflesh to break out over my skin.

Cracked earth, sparsely populated with dried grasses and shrubs, is dotted with twisted, mostly-dead trees whose barren branches hang toward the ground like boney claws. If someone told me the life had been literally sucked from them, I’d believe it. The hills beyond are no different, sporting little life but plentiful tales of misery. A winter without its biting cold came to this land and never left.

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