Page 43 of Destined for the Fae King

“Very nice,” Vasilius says.

In a flash, Lysandir’s hand is gone, and the warmth of his nearness vanishes. I twist around, nearly getting tangled up in the skirts of my dress.

How long has Vasilius been there? It can’t have been long, but his relaxed stance says he didn’t just arrive. He crosses his tanned arms, his loose cream sleeves once again rolled up to his elbows. A piece of crimson clothing somewhere between a cape and a jacket hangs off his shoulders, the edges secured by a golden chain that drapes across his collarbone.

“Somehow my brother seems to be better at finding my bride candidates than I am.” He laughs, others around him following suit.

Candidates? Plural? My brows pinch, and a hint of jealousy flares in my chest. Who else has Lysandir been hanging out with? Not that it’s any of my business or that I should care. Of course he should be getting to know the others—that only makes sense—but my body’s reactions rarely have anything to do with reason.

Lysandir somehow finds a way to put more space between us without moving, which only makes the flush creeping up my neck burn hotter.

I force a bright smile to my face. “Would you like to join us, Your Majesty?”

When Vasilius glances toward the balls, his smile drops.

I immediately switch tactics. “Or maybe we could take a walk, just you and me? I’d love to see more of the gardens.”

“Then by all means, let me show them to you.” He extends his arm in a courtly gesture, and I loop mine through it.

“Thank you for the instruction,” I say to Lysandir over one shoulder.

No emotion crosses his face as he nods our way. “Anytime, Mira.”

I turn my attention back to the king. “Shall we?”

Chapter 17

When you’re on thearm of the king, everyone notices. It’s a truly unnerving feeling, having so many people watch me, their whispers chasing in our wake. When I used to enter competitions, people watched me strut across the stage, but that was different. Then, I expected it, planned for it. Here, during what should be a casual and companionable stroll, it’s an annoyance at best, a distraction at worst.

I want to pay attention to Vasilius, truly I do, but my ears catch fragments of words from those we pass and my brain keeps trying to cue in on those instead of whatever he’s saying.

“Do you think we could have a seat over there?” I interject when he stops to take a breath.

A little wooden bench sits near what looks like a massive weeping willow tree, its branches draping over to sweep against the ground. It’s not exactly private, but it’s a little more concealed than most places—other than the nearby hedge maze. But people can follow us through the maze or pretend to be meandering on their own but stay on our path. Under the willow tree, no one can get that close to us without making it obvious they’re trying to eavesdrop or directly seeking ourattention.

“Why not?” he replies and leads me over to the little bench.

It’s a cozy setup, which is perfect for what I have in mind. Vasilius alone takes up half of the space, and I don’t bother spreading out on my side, instead brushing up against him and staying there. From the way his face lights up, he doesn’t seem to mind. It’s a far cry from how he reacted to Katherine and Gabriella being all over him in the parlor the other night. Maybe I’m not doing so poorly after all.

“I’m honored that you came to find me.” I touch his arm, just the briefest pressure on his sleeve.

“Of course. I planned to spend some time with each of you today.” He adjusts himself on the bench, angling his body more toward mine. “Did you enjoy the game? I noticed you playing it earlier too.”

“It was all right,” I reply. “Though I’m not very good at it.”

“Oh?” One auburn brow arcs. “That last throw was excellent. You may have won that point if you’d stayed.”

The flush that rises to my cheeks is entirely real. “Thank you. I had a lot of help.” And here we are, talking about his brother. I need to alter this conversation and fast. “Though, I’m happy to give up a win to spend time with you.”

He chuckles. “I’ll remember that.”

“I hope you do,” I say honestly.

We talk about everything and nothing for a moment, and I savor it, eating it up like the refreshing cool breeze that drifts by.

When I spy a natural opening in the conversation, I take it. “I think it’s wonderful that you’re inviting some other courts to the ball.”

“Oh? Eager to meet other fae, are you?” It’s a tease from the glimmer in his eyes, but there’s a slight barb in the words that I have to shove down and push away.

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