Page 13 of The Beast King's Bride

“Must we do this?” The Fae sounds weary for a moment. He tilts his horned head to the side, gazing at the king. “I will get what I came to get, one way or another.”

“Why must you be so uncouth and selfish?” the queen says. “Why must you demand things that aren’t yours?”

“Your majesty.” He actually gives her a small bow, a bow he never gave the king. “This tithe is my birthright. I have come to claim it and will not leave without it, or else I would not have crossed the gates and into your cursed lands.”

“It’s something of great value to you,” she says, just as I think the same.

“It matters naught,” he replies, his voice low.

“Guards!” King Pryam bellows again and they swarm around the Fae.

It looks like more have arrived, called from other parts of the palace. So many, more and more running into the ballroom, the crowd stepping back, widening the circle—and yet they cannot hold their own against the Fae king. He dances with his knives in their midst, cutting them down, blood spraying.

I can only stare in horror.

Why is he fighting them at all? Why doesn’t he magic them, freeze them in place, as he did with everyone when he first entered? Is there a limit to his powers?

“Stop,” the king says at last, lifting a beringed hand. “Guards, step down. Put away your weapons. Fae king… let us talk.”

The Fae turns to face the thrones, his knives pointing to the floor, dripping crimson. His curved horns glint in the chandelier light. “My tithe,” he says, his voice dangerously low and velvety, brushing over us, over me, making me shiver. “Now.”

“Tell us what it is you seek,” King Pryam says. “We’ll come to an arrangement.”

“Yes.” The Fae bares his teeth. “We will.”

“Tell us,” King Pryam says again.

“I seek a woman.” The Fae sheathes his knives and turns to look at all of us. “A woman who is and isn’t human, who is and isn’t a princess. The signs have led me here, to your palace. Give her to me and I swear to leave and not bother you ever again.”

“We don’t have such a woman,” the king begins, “but we—”

The Fae roars, “You will find her for me!”

The crowd shudders. The chandeliers swing with small creaking sounds. A gust of wind seems to wind around the room.

“A woman, right, right.” King Pryam waves a hand at the crowd. “Human and not human, princess and not princess. Typical Fae ambiguity. How am I supposed to find such a woman?”

This isn’t good. One doesn’t deny the Fae what they want and live. Everyone knows that.

The crowd is whispering. The guards are shifting from foot to foot. The queen is pale on her throne.

But most of my attention is on the terrible horned Fae and the words he spoke. They echo in my mind. He can’t mean…

“Tell us more about this lady you came to find,” the king is saying and my eye catches on movement behind the Fae. Not a guard but someone familiar emerging from the group of guards, clad in royal red, a golden crown on golden hair.

A gleaming knife.

Prince Elyar approaches the Fae from behind so quickly I barely see him move.

As the Fae turns, the prince stabs the knife into his side.

Breathlessly I watch as the Fae turns around. He makes no sound as he shoves the prince away and sends him sprawling on the floor, then draws his knives once more.

“You dare!” He points a knife at the prone prince, then turns and points the other at King Pryam. “You dare. Distracting me to have this human kill me, a guest in your palace, a fellow king. I should cut you down where you sit.”

“Let’s be calm,” King Pryam says, lifting both hands in a placating gesture, and for the first time, his voice shakes. “As I said, I don’t know any woman such as the one you seek. If you want to look around, then look. I have nothing to hide.”

The prince on the floor isn’t moving. Did the Fae kill him? Didn’t the prince’s knife wound the Fae at all? It has to be magic, and I’m terrified.

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