Page 30 of The Beast King's Bride

“This isn’t for us to discuss,” the older Fae says with a curtsy. “It’s for his majesty to tell you as he wishes. Apologies. Please, come with us and we’ll take you to him. If my lady is ready…”

I smooth down my skirt and nod. “Lead the way. Oh, and…” I reach for the woolen dress, the cape, the boots. “I want to keep these clothes.”

“Of course, my lady. I’ll have them brought to your room.”

“Who did they belong to?”

“Nobody. This way, my lady. We must not keep the king waiting.”

This is a chance to see more of the palace, I console myself as I’m herded down yet more corridors, passing outside so many closed doors. I have this feeling that I’m losing control of the situation, losing my confidence that I can leave this place. Things are happening too fast.

And still, the palace feels empty, despite the amount of Fae that were present in the throne room.

“Where is everyone?” I ask as we pass through a dusty salon, wilted flowers in the vases. “Why does this place feel so abandoned?”

“It’s been like this since the Decay began,” the younger Fae says, “since the curse—”

“Shush,” the older Fae interrupts, and they fall silent again.

“Is this a secret?” When they don’t reply to that, I turn back to the younger Fae who seemed more willing to talk. “What is your name?”

We pass some more empty salons and galleries before she seems to gather her courage to reply. “I’m Auria and this,” she points at the older Fae, “is Zylphia.”

The older Fae huffs, clearly displeased with all the chatter, and opens an ornate door. “This way, my lady.”

“Is this a palace or a city?” I mutter. “I’ll never find my way in here.”

The room we enter is narrow and long with tall windows overlooking the city below. I’m drawn to the view and I’m already heading to the windows when someone moves on my right and I turn, startled.

The king is glowering at me, standing in front of the lit fireplace at one end of a long dining table. “What took so long?” he demands.

“Apologies, your majesty,” Auria says, curtsying low. “We helped lady Elayne get ready for lunch.”

“That wouldn’t have been necessary had she not fled her room.” His hands are clenched on the back of a chair. The flames cast dancing shadows on his graceful face and those horns.

“Am I a prisoner, then?” I glower right back at him. “Don’t I have the right to wear what I want, wander inside the palace?”

He blinks. Then he closes his eyes, rubs at them with one hand. “Yes. You do.”

The Fae women are exchanging worried looks. “Shall we have the food served, Sire?”

He waves a hand at them and they hurry away, leaving me alone with him.

Suddenly the room feels too full, his presence too large, and I have to physically tear my gaze away from the intensity of his dark blue eyes, the shapely mouth, the hard lines of his body. The dark blue shirt he’s wearing molds to impressive muscles on his upper chest and his arms.

Somehow, I’m still looking at him.

It annoys me that I’m so drawn to him, a monster in a pleasing male form. So pleasing…

“Sit down,” he says, still standing there, though he isn’t looking at me at all, instead gazing somewhere into the void.

The command in his voice sends me walking. I’ve been a servant too long. I’ve been trained since childhood to obey that arrogant tone and I follow orders before I know I’m doing it.

Only two places are set with dishes, cutlery, crystal goblets. One is in front of him and the other at the other end of the table. Without a word, I walk there and sit in the ornate chair to face him, willing my anger back down.

There never was any reason why I should like this stuck-up Fae. Nothing has changed, but if I am to escape, better not draw his ire and have him lock me up in the basement or a tower.

“So you are the woman of the riddle,” he says, his mouth turning up at the corners in a grim smile. “Elayne Isabel de Calesterna. But are you up to such a task?”

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