Page 19 of Destined for the Fae King

The dining room is massive. It could seat a hundred easily with room to spare, but tonight it’s only set with one long table in the center of the room. High-backed chairs painted or gilded in brilliant gold have their curved legs sitting upon a crimson rug the same shade as the cushions on the seats. The table itself is a dark ebony wood with golden place settings and tall bowls with flames seemingly hovering above them as a strange, magical candelabra.

But the real breathtaking part is the view. One long wall opens to a balcony, the heavy drapes pulled back and tied between each of seven archways giving a perfect view of the sun setting across the sand sea.

Standing in the center archway is King Vasilius, resplendent in a tailored coat of crimson and gold and dark pants tucked into black boots with golden accents. He wears his crown today, the rubies and his auburn hair gleaming in the sunset glow and adding to his ethereal aura. No one, human or fae, could look upon him like this and think him anything less than a king.

“Ladies.” He spreads out his arms in greeting and gives a slight bow of his head. “I’m glad you could all join me for dinner. The dowager queen will be joining us as well.”

Not his brother? I wait for that addition, almost sighing aloud when it doesn’t come.

Several of the women have already rushed up to the king without invitation, crowding in around him and peppering him with questions and compliments. Katherine literally grabs his arm, and though she doesn’t seem to notice, I don’t miss his flinch or the way he subtly pulls away from her touch before thinking better of it and pretending like the visceral reaction didn’t just happen. I guess she’s not his type, which is good news for me.

“There will be plenty of time to talk,” he says over the din of women vying for his attention. “Please, choose a seat.”

Fae stationed near one side of the room move into action, placing themselves behind the rows of chairs on either side of the table, ready to pull them back for us like servers at a high-end restaurant. The two largest chairs—one at either end—are unattended. Spots for the dowager and the king.

Cora nearly knocks Gabriella down in her rush to claim a seat at one end. Adeline hurries just as quickly toward the other end. They’ve presumed the same thing as me, though I’d wager none of us know which side will be the king’s versus the queen’s. I land a space just off the middle. Hopefully, I’ll be close enough to the king to catch his ear and participate in conversation, no matter which side he sits on.

We’ve barely taken our seats when the main doors open and Elaine enters, accompanied by a guard. Vasilius, like the king he is, breaks away from the two women who linger near him rather than claiming a seat and rushes to her side. He’s the picture of gentlemanly grace as he leads Elaine to her seat on Adeline’s end. The beaming smile he gives her, so full of love, might make my knees weak if I wasn’t already sitting down. Maybe his relationship with his stepmother is the reason he hasn’t shown much interestin human women before. Maybe he just hasn’t found one that can compare. She does set the bar high.

But I’ve always enjoyed a challenge.

“Thank you all for joining us this evening,” the king says once he claims his seat. “One goal of The Choosing is for me to get to know you all better. While I have many pressing demands for my time, I will endeavor to arrange time with you all as well in the interest of finding the best human queen for the court.”

While he talks, servants slip into the room on near silent feet carrying plates of food—a colorful array of vegetables with a pale violet soup sprinkled with petals for this first course—which are set upon the charger plates in front of us. It smells divine, and I have to fight the urge to grab my silverware and dig in.

“With the help of my advisors and my dear mother…” He pauses to acknowledge her and allow us all to do the same. “Some activities have been planned over the next few days which should allow us the chance to get to know each other better.”

“The group dates begin,” Grace whispers at my side while fighting back a grin.

Across the table from her, Alexis rolls her eyes and mouths,You watch too much TV.

It really does feel like the opening episode of a reality show though or maybe the second, since the acceptance ceremony was grand—and scandalous on my part— enough to make a worthy episode on its own.

“In addition,” the king continues, “I will be asking each of you to spend some time with me one-on-one.”

That elicits a murmur of excitement around the table.

“I can’t wait to spend timealonewith you tonight,” Cora announces, as if it’s some foregone conclusion that she’ll be first.The implication in her words isn’t lost either, at least not on the dowager, who gently clears her throat, not that Cora notices.

“We shall see,” the king says. “But don’t worry, each of you will have your time.”

“Likely several times,” Elaine adds with a pointed look at her stepson.

“Indeed.” The king lifts his fork before gesturing to the table with his other hand. “Shall we begin?”

Dinner is long, almost painfully so, yet my chances to jump into the conversation are few enough. Most of the women near Vasilius try to dominate the conversation by talking about themselves. He’s polite enough, nodding along and offering the occasional smile between small mouthfuls of food, but anyone paying attention can tell he’s bored. Oh, he tries to hide it all right, but even the best actor can only disguise their face for so long. Between the course of grilled fish and the subsequent one of a roasted bird that could almost pass for chicken, Vasilius and Elaine switch seats, allowing him to pay some attention to the other half of the table.

When Gabriella pauses her assault of questions to take a long sip of wine, I cut in with one of my own.

“What would you be doing right now if you had your choice, Your Majesty?” I ask.

The fork he’d lifted halts halfway to his mouth. His brows pinch slightly before he lowers the utensil, a slow grin spreading across his features.

The obvious answer would be he’s right where he wants to be, but that would be a lie. I know it, and so does he.

I blink at him innocently, but his growing smirk says he’s caught my game.

Conversation dies down as everyone awaits his answer. His eyes hood slightly before he says, “That might not be proper conversation for the dinner table.”

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