Page 16 of Destined for the Fae King

“May I ask you a question, Lady Mira?”

At the use of that title, I cross one leg over the other, sitting up more primly. “I do believe you just did.”

A huff of air slips from his nose. Lysandir rises from his chair, and despite the little smirk on his features, a tiny thread of panic in the back of my mind warns me that I might have taken it too far. A potentially damaging move for my goals. Instead, he lifts the chair with seeming ease, despite its hefty bulk. It’s the twin of mine, which didn’t move a bit when I sat none to delicately, and I’m pretty sure I’d have to throw all my weight against the back just to slide it across the ground, forget lifting it.

He settles back into the chair, but this time he’s staring straight at me. “You’ve never been to Faery before, correct?”

“That’s right.” There’s no way he forgot that little detail.

“So why this desire to marry a male you’ve never met?” He leans forward, settling his elbows on his knees, his hands draped over one another between his spread legs. “Unless your focus isn’t him but the crown?”

I flinch. Damn if he’s not right though. It’s not just about the man, but also the title, horrible as that is. Granted, I’ve had plenty of time to learn about the king, to appreciate his qualities and daydream about his portrait. Iaminterested in him. But it’s the crown my uncle wants me to secure. It’s my family name that I’m supposed to improve.

There’s no way I can say that to the prince though. He’d hate me even more than he already does.

“Are you saying it’s impossible to develop affection for someone from afar?” I ask, deflecting. “Can you not hear about them or read about them and develop an appreciation and admiration for them?” Vasilius isn’t perfect. No fae or human is. However, he leads his people well, is strong, handsome, respected—all admirable qualities. And then there’s Faery, a dreamland that actually exists. “Maybe so much so that you feel compelled to venture to a new land that you’ve always longed to visit anyway, just to see if they could be your perfect match?”

“Then why haven’t you?”

“Why haven’t I what?”

“Visited before.” He tilts his head, and that long, dark red hair slips over one shoulder. “If you longed to visit Faery, why not come?”

My lips purse of their own accord. Because before I could run off on my own, Uncle Matias spotted an opportunity: an unmarriedking on the throne with an aging mother who wants him wed to a human. The certainty of a Choosing was too much for him to resist. So, he decided I’d enter for our family, and he already had the perfect leverage in my mother and brothers.

“You never answered my question,” I say instead. “It’s rude to ask another without answering mine first.”

His settles back into the cushion chair, his gaze never leaving mine. The silence that hangs between us is even heavier than his stare, so much that I think he won’t answer. The weight of it presses on my chest and makes me fight the urge to squirm or get up and run away.

“Yes, Mira.” The way my name rolls off his tongue, so full, rich, and deep, has a pleasant warmth crawling up the base of my neck. “I do think it’s possible to love from afar. To be so enraptured by the thought and dream of someone that you’ll rush headlong into something in desperation just to brush the edge of your imaginings.” His fingers flex on the cushioned armrests as if he’s holding himself still with effort. “Is that love? Or obsession? Perhaps an emotion caught somewhere between?”

Suddenly I have a feeling we’re not talking about me anymore. His answer is too deep, too well thought out, as if it’s something he’s mused entirely too many times. I swallow the tightness in my throat and tear my gaze away, staring at nothing on the bookshelf behind him.

“You see, Mira.” His name calls my attention, demands it. “Love can be a beautiful thing. But sometimes it’s coated in so much desperation and longing, and that it can drive someone to do quite reckless things.”

He shoves himself up from the chair and stalks to mine in two quick steps, so fast I barely have time to gasp before he’s right in front of me, filling my vision. His imposing figure towers over me.Subtle spicy notes cling to his masculine scent that envelops me like a warm blanket. And then he’s leaning down, his palms coming to land on the edge of the armrests, his legs nearly brushing mine where they’re half curled under me on the chair. I don’t breathe—can’t. He’s everywhere, stealing every rational thought from my brain.

“Should I worry about you doing something reckless, Mira?”

My body goes hot and cold all at once. My God. If he stares at me like that a moment longer, I might do something reckless, and it won’t be something that will earn me any favors with Vasilius.

Someone clears their throat behind me, and Lysandir retreats, stepping back as if he hadn’t just been inches away from me.

I whip my head around to find Tharin standing a few feet away. A bit of the tension stiffening my spine retreats.

“I am checking in to see if you need anything,” Tharin says.

Lysandir surely won’t do anything with him here, and the wash of sanity that has returned with him is enough to ground me too.

“My prince?” Tharin asks, looking from me to the fae male who’s retreated to his former seat, one leg crossed over the other in a casual pose that I might assume he’s been in for a while if I hadn’t just seen otherwise.

“No, thank you.” Lysandir waves a dismissive hand. “I seized the opportunity to get to know one of our candidates a bit better.”

That’s what you’re calling it?I glance in his direction, and though his attention is fully focused on Tharin, I’d swear I can feel the weight of his regard, the challenge to say anything.

“I’m happy to stay here with Mira and escort her back to her rooms later if you have other matters to attend to,” Lysandir continues.

I’m on my feet so fast I nearly drop the book stillcradled in my arms.

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