Page 67 of Destined for the Fae King

I suck in a breath and turn fully in the seat. My stomach plummets, and my shoulders sag. Not his mate. Not the horrible woman he wants to get away from. They’re talking about the one he gave his heart to. Someone he must care about a great deal. She’s here. Tonight.

“Because that will lead to more pain and heartache for everyone involved.” The bitterness in Tharin’s tone is sharp as a blade.

“You talk about her like she’s a curse,” Lysandir snaps.

“Isn’t she?” he retorts.

Something hard slams against the glass structure in front of us. A crack rushes down the surface in front of my face. I let out a startled screech. Too late, I clap my hand over my mouth. In horror, I turn to stare at Selena. Her eyes are wide, a hand over her mouth as well. Did she scream too or just me?

But it doesn’t matter. One or both, it’s enough to condemn our eavesdropping.

Tharin is the first around the corner. Fae light reflects off his drawn blade. With a quick scan of the area, he zones in on us, blade lowering.

A heartbeat later, Lysandir rushes around the corner, a stunning woman on his heels. And not just any woman. It’s Wren, the beautiful consort of the King of Air.

Lysandir skids to a halt, his eyes widening.

Shit. I don’t even know what to say, where to begin.

Tharin sheaths his sword before crossing his arms to stare at us—or rather, me. “You have a bad habit of listening in on conversations in gardens.”

A flush of embarrassment races up my neck to my cheeks.Just call me out, why don’t you?What I wouldn’t give to be able to shift away like some of the fae can.

“Your fault for talking in a public place,” Selena replies with impressive casualness.

Wren tips her head to the side and glances at the men. “She has a point.”

Tharin frowns, but Lysandir doesn’t seem to hear her. In fact, he hasn’t reacted to a thing anyone has said since they appeared. He’s just continued to stare at me, that same look of barely muted horror etched on his features.

“Mira.” My name falls from his lips like a prayer, but I can’t image how he could be the embarrassed one in this situation. He’s not the one literally sitting here hoping to vanish.

“Oh!” Wren’s head whips around. “You’reMira?”

The words are so full of meaning that it takes me a moment to digest them. But it’s the look in her eyes that makes everything slam into place with jarring awareness.

I shift my attention to Lysandir. He grimaces, his eyes closing as he tilts his head down. His hands ball into fists at his side before releasing, his eyes flying open as they do, his gaze focused solely on me. A glow flares from him, bright then gone, like his resolve slipped for the briefest moment.

Oh. Oh God.

“You… I’m…” I stammer, taking a step back, as puzzle pieces crash into me so hard they threaten to steal my breath.

“Mira?” From the corner of my eye, I see Selena step closer.

But I don’t turn. I can’t look away from the male in front of me and everything that’s suddenly, painfully clear, like fog rolling back to reveal a graveyard.

Tharin mutters some curse and turns away.

“It’s me. You were talking about me. I’m your…”Mate.The last word sticks, bitter, dirty, and hard as a rock on my tongue.

His mate. The one he didn’t want. The one he entered a deadly competition to be freed of.

No wonder he tried to be rid of me that first night and prevent me from entering the competition.

He doesn’t want me here. He never has. Any feelings, any emotions… It’s just been biology, fate. Nothing real, nothing meaningful.

My legs no longer want to hold me up, and I wobble. Lysandir races forward, reaching for me, but I recoil. The motion has me careening back, falling, but the damnable man is faster, managing to scoop an arm around me and pull me to his chest before I tumble to the ground.

The warmth, strength, and gentleness of his hold make my body into a traitor. It wants to stay there, to cling to him, to bury my face in his chest and cry.

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