Page 12 of Destined for the Fae King

“I’m only part white,” I say politely, trying not to show how much their barbs sting.

Cora whips her head toward the woman at her other side, a gorgeous Latina named Gabriella.Oh yes, look to another non-white person for confirmation. Totally cool.

“MiraRivera,” Gabriella says with a look that says my heritage should be obvious.

My mom is basically as white as they come. For a while, I thought maybe that was why my uncle didn’t like her. But no. As I learned from my father before he died, my uncle identifies as gifted first, Texan second, and Hispanic third. And with as long as my dad’s family has been in Texas, we really are as American as anyone. It wasn’t Mom’s coloring that knocked her down in his esteem, just a different part of her genetics that she had as little control over.

Gabriella shakes her head and walks away. We haven’t met before, but I tried to pay attention at the ceremony last night and remember first names at least. Gabriella’s shiny, dark hair is even longer than mine and brushed to absolute perfection. Not a strand is out of place where it hangs down over the back of her knee-length crimson cocktail dress. With her rich skin tone, the color does wonders for her.

Cora rolls her eyes and mutters, “Whatever,” before turning away with Katherine in tow.

Before anyone else can engage me, we’re ushered off as one big group of women and guards toward breakfast. It shouldn’t take all of our guards to see us there—seriously, one would do—but it seems they’re not taking chances with our safety, even if this is overkill.

The room where we meet the queen is impressive even by fae standards. It’s circular, high columns holding up a domed roof with a wide, circular opening in the center. That alone would let in plenty of light, but half the room has no walls, instead opening up to a courtyard beyond, that side of the roof held up by thick columns spaced evenly apart.

The courtyard beyond is one I had spied the night before, albeit from a different perspective. Golden sand covers the ground, spotted with large gray rocks and twisting eggplant-colored trees, like some fae version of a Zen garden.

The room itself is lacking the dining tables I expected. In my mind, this was going to be some kind of formal affair straight out of a historical drama. Not so. A few tables filled with foods and drink stand around the edges of the room, but the center is covered with rich rugs and spotted with huge pillows in varying warm shades. The queen herself already sits in the one chair in the room, a grand wing-backed thing covered in plush-looking crimson cloth—velvet maybe.

Some of the other women are openly confused by the setup. One even whispers something to her guard.

If it weren’t for the importance of the moment, I might laugh. The dowager queen will have us on the floor around her feet like school children. Maybe that’s the point. Though she’s yet to smile, I don’t get the impression she’s trying to make us think lowly of ourselves, and from what I’ve learned, she isn’t arrogantor superior in nature, though she has every right to be given her rank.

“Welcome, ladies.” Elaine doesn’t rise, but I imagine it may be hard for her to do so, especially given that her cane is propped on the little table next to her chair, which already holds a plate of food and a crystal glass filled with pale golden liquid. “Not what you expected, I’d say.” She gestures to the pillows. “Help yourself to some food and find a seat.”

We do as we’re told, most in near silence. I don’t think this is how any of us expected things to start out.

The pillows are clustered into little groups, and I end up taking one near Bailey. Selena had helped me gather notes on my potential competition, and I vaguely remember some bits about her. She’s in her early thirties I believe and has a maturity I can appreciate. Plus, she’s the only other one who appears to have brought a notebook. She gives me a shy smile before opening her black leather journal and smoothing out a page, her little plate of food completely ignored on the floor by her side.

Once we’re all seated and introduce ourselves, Elaine drops into a speech. “One of you will become queen, and that is no small thing. Not only will you be a bound to the king in marriage and, fates willing, grant him children, you will also be a constant presence in his life, and it better be a positive one. Encourage him. Support him. Even reprimand him when he needs. And he will.”

A few women still and look at one another. Even I have to admit, it’s frank words for the first day.

“Surprised?” The queen angles her head, nonplussed. “At my age, there isn’t time to waste words. Vasilius may not be mine by blood, but he is my son in all ways that matter. I wish the best for him and intend to see that he has a capable queen by his side before death takes me. And while he has many strong qualities,he can be impulsive, reckless, and hot-tempered. You will need to help balance that.”

Impulsive. Reckless. Hot-tempered.I write, underlining each one.

“A pretty face is not going to win you this crown, and it’s not only my son you must impress. The counsel and I will also be sharing our opinions as time progresses, and I trust that Vasilius will take our words into account when making his choice.”

Katherine openly pouts and pulls up the neckline of her gown that exposes more of her cleavage than I’m sure Elaine cares to see.

“Now that you understand that,” the queen says. “I thought I would take the time to tell you more about my reign as queen, particularly the early years.”

The queen’s tales are riveting. To me anyway. Some of the others? Not so much. Cora has a serious case of resting angry face, and Zoe stands up and stretches enough times that I’m surprised she doesn’t drop into a full-out yoga session in the middle of this morning chat. Granted, we all have to move a little. My legs start to fall asleep more than once.

The queen pauses for questions as she’s done a few times already, and Grace raises her hand. Her blond hair is as bright and sunny as her disposition. Some might discount her for her curvy figure, but with the almost roguish grin Vasilius gave her when accepting her into the competition the night before, I’d say it’s a nod in her favor.

“Can you tell us more about The Choosing from your year?” Grace asks. “What was it like for you?”

Queen Elaine might have been the former king’s third wife, but she was the first selected via The Choosing. The first two were love matches, though only the second resulted in any children.Children are rarer for the fae than humans—probably due to their long lifespans—and even more uncommon among human and fae pairings. However, any children born of such unions always have especially strong magic. It’s one reason the fae royals tend to favor human mates. In fact, any of us who are not selected to be queen could probably easily find a different match here…if we wanted to. It’s what’s expected, human daughters to the fae in exchange for gifts to help our families on Earth prosper. Gifted families have made the exchange for generations. Even so, the thought of being essentially passed on to some other important fae makes my breakfast churn uncomfortably in my stomach.

If it was, love, maybe, but how could it be when I’m here for the king? Early in her speech, the queen made it clear we are here for Vasilius and shouldn’t seek attentions elsewhere.

“Well, that was quite some time ago,” Elaine begins in answer to Grace’s question. “My memory is not what is was…” An unfortunate side-effect of residing in Faery. Human memories of Earth fade quickly in the fae realm, and her arrival was likely blurred into that. “But I will say,” she continues, “that I believe humans nowadays to be more free with their attentions than was expected of us. To put it plainly, if you think the path to the crown lies in Vasilius’s bed, you’d be mistaken. Such intimacies should only be shared between the king and his chosen.”

A few women glance away. Cora, undeterred by the queen’s prim demeanor, straightens her upper body and raises her hand. The queen nods at her.

“How would you suggest we attempt to see if there is mutual interest then?” Cora asks.

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