Page 57 of Destined for the Fae King

As if my thoughts summon him, he says my name again, louder this time.

I turn a corner, pressing onward, though I have no idea where I’m headed. This part of the palace is new to me. My destination doesn’t matter, as long as it’s away from the courtyard and the king.

“Your quarters are the other way,” Tharin says. “Let me show you back. Or shift you.”

The hallway ends in a T-shaped intersection just ahead, pathways branching off right and left.

I look back over my shoulder as I plow ahead. “I can’t. I just—”

He halts. Tharin’s eyes go wide.

“I need—” I smack into something firm and bounce backward.

But it’s no wall that reaches out and grips my upper arm to steady me. The scent that envelopes me makes my head spin more than the wine I drank earlier in the evening, and in that moment, I know who it is before I see him. My heart skips a beat. My chest swells, and I grab a fist full of his shirt to steady myself. The moment I lift my face toward his, all the emotion of the evening crashes into me full force, and tears burn at the corners of my eyes.

“Lysandir.”

“Mira.” The sound of my name is somewhere between a gasp and prayer. He cups my cheek, turning my face as if searching for injury. “What happened?”

“I—” The single letter cracks from my throat, and I can’t force anything out. All I can do is stare at him, caught in the heat of his stare that starts to blur beyond the tears that threaten to form and fall.

He drops his hand from my cheek, and his attention snaps past me. “Tharin?”

Distant conversation and laughter grow louder, signaling others coming our way. The sound makes me take a half step closer to Lysandir. The irrational urge to bury my face against his chest and sob is nearly overwhelming.

“Not here,” Tharin replies.

“Her room.” Lysandir givesa little nod.

His other arm comes around me to hold me closer. That’s all the warning I have before the air constricts, the hallway melts away, and then suddenly we’re standing outside my chamber.

Chapter 23

The guards stationed inour hall leap to attention and step forward.

Tharin raises a hand to ward them off. “No need. Lady Mira is unsettled, and the prince would like a word.”

Said prince has already released me, opened the door to my room, and is ushering me inside. Tharin follows us and shuts the door behind him.

I don’t wait for them to speak or ask me questions. Numbly, I walk to my bed and plop down on the edge. My teeth dig into my bottom lip, the sharp bite of pain centering me and forcing the tears away. The fae lights are dim, and no one bothers to brighten them.

A little voice in the back of my head is screaming about the awkwardness of the situation.Bed. Prince. Room. Dark.But it’s barely a whisper compared to everything else.

“Well?” Lysandir says.

From the sharpness of his tone, I know the question isn’t directed at me. I don’t even need to look up. And I don’t, focusing instead on one deep breath after another.

“Some of the women decided to attended a party. I went along to keep an eye on things, of course. At some point in the evening, Mira ventured into the courtyard. There, she…” He trails off, and I can almost feel the tension radiating from Lysandir in the pause. “The king was there with some of his close companions. Male and female.”

Lysandir bites out some curse I’m unfamiliar with.

“Indeed,” Tharin replies. “I may not have caught all of the conversation that Mira did, but in the parts I heard, your brother made clear his dedication to his duties as king, despite what he may personally prefer.”

Another curse slips free, this one even more edged.

“I was attempting to convince Mira to let me bring her back here when we stumbled upon you.”

Literally.I huff air through my nose and glance up at the men.

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