Page 30 of Destined for the Fae King

“That’s probably what they want.” Lysandir’s voice is the opposite of Memnon’s. Calm, assured, and pitched so that everyone has to be quiet in order to hear him speak. “The Unseelie have been divided for an age. The Court of the Forest already made the error of giving them reason to unite, and we’ve seen what happened as a result. If we give them more cause, we’re inviting a war we do not want or need. From what I’ve gathered from my contacts in the Court of Air, the Unseelie King is not as brash as many of his kin and will know he cannot win through force. There’s a deeper game at play here, and we risk losing if we move too quickly.”

Memnon slams his palms on the table and rises. “So you’d rather we sit around and become prey? They have the sword! They could use it against our wards.”

That gets Vasilius’s attention, and he shoves to his feet, leaning on the table with both of his palms pressed against it.

“That’s enough for now.” His deep voice is edged with just enough command that no one dares move, much less speak. “Let us think on it for now and continue to gather information. The coming days may bring us more insight.”

Memnon grumbles and wrinkles his pointed nose but says nothing further. The next few topics are much less exciting, and more than once I catch Lysandir looking my way.

Everyone seems to like him. Hell, I always liked and admired what I’d heard about him. So, if he’s against me, it’s going to be trouble. I have to figure out a way to get on his good side.

But whydoeshe dislike me so?

Is it possible he had a vision that included me?

The new possibility has me squirming in my seat. What if he did see something about me? Though, I’m not sure what I could do that would inspire such distaste that he’d try to kick me out of Faery the moment I arrived. It’s not like I’m here to be a spy, takethem down from within, or some other nonsense. Maybe I should ask, but I’m almost afraid to know the answer.

I muse on that throughout the rest of the meeting, impatiently waiting for the chance to improve my odds.

Chapter 12

That evening, Bailey hasher date with the king. Elaine visits with us for a little while, which involves a lot of the women trying to be on their best behavior and even a few very fake personalities coming out to play that fall away the moment she leaves. After that, the rest of us are all left to our own devices, which entails a whole lot of nothing in the parlor.

We’re not supposed to speak about what we learned in the council meeting, which means no debating it with each other where the guards can hear, but sitting around isn’t getting me anywhere either. It’s not going to be enough to say something like “War bad. Peace good.” I need thoughtfulness, reason, and insight. Worse, I’m not really sure which way Vasilius leans on the topic. He showed no preference one way or another before the conversation started toward an argument rather than a discussion.

Eventually, I seek out the library. If nothing else, maybe I can glean more insight into the history with the Unseelie and how their unfortunate circumstance came about. Living in a dead and ever-dying land is certainly a bad situation, and that can make anyone desperate.

I head toward the history section I’d found useful before and stop short just as I turn around the bookcase.

“You again.” The comment slips out before I can think better of it.

Lysandir looks up from the book he’s reading and has the audacity to grin at me. God, that look alone makes my chest burn, though maybe not in the way he intends.

“Mira, what a pleasant surprise.” He pushes a tendril of crimson hair back behind one pointed ear. “I wondered if anyone would decide to do a little research on their own after today’s discussion.”

“And so you decided to lay in wait, as it were?” I clutch my trusty notebook closer to my chest.

He nods once. “Something like that. Though I’m glad it’s you.”

I nearly laugh out loud. “Why is that?”

“I have something I’d like to ask of you.” He waits in silence. Careful, patient, unmoving, save for the occasional blink of his eyes.

He’s going to make me ask, damn it.I don’t know why that bothers me, but it does.

“And what would that be, my prince?” I ask in the sweetest voice I can muster.

There’s a subtle widening of his eyes before he mouths “my prince”, but another blink of his eyes and it’s gone. “I want us to start over. To see if we can forget what happened in the throne room and begin anew as if it never occurred.”

Of all the things he could have asked, that one surprises me. My brows pinch and lips purse as I wrestle with the request. “You want me to forget that you called me out in front of the entire court and tried to prevent me from entering the competition to become your brother’s queen.”

Saying it aloud makes it sound even more ludicrous.

“Yes.” As if it’s such an easy thing. When I don’t reply, he adds, almost like it pains him to say it, “It would mean a great deal to me.”

I’m curious—I can’t help it—so I walk to the little seating area and drop down into the chair across from him. “Why?”

God help me, I have to know.

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