Page 73 of The Beast King's Bride

19

ASH

Six guards arrive to escort me and I don’t know if it’s a show for the Empress’ benefit or because it’s already nighttime and monsters might spring out of the walls and floors at any moment to attack us.

They don’t, though, our rushed walk through the palace quiet—which is a good thing as I struggle to gather my courage. I don’t know why I held this faint hope that the king might come and accompany me inside. I never even told him that I changed my mind and decided to attend the ball. He probably had to be there to welcome the Empress, if Fae protocol is anything like the human one.

And I’m late. I realize that as we approach the ballroom, notes of music drifting over us. We come to a gallery where a small crowd is milling about, probably drinking wine and resting before they return to the ball.

Though the double doors are open and through them, I see lots of Fae in colorful costumes who seem to be standing still.

Just like these aristocratic Fae standing outside, I realize, their faces pale, their hands clutching the stems of their wine glasses too tightly.

A thundering screech comes from inside the ballroom and the guards hesitate before entering with me in their center, their steps slowing once more as we beheld the spectacle in front of us.

Strange Fae—Lesser Fae, I realize, goat-legged, dog-headed, bent with branches growing out of their backs, scaly and horned, some tall and muscular, some thinner and weaselly are standing on the carpet leading to the twin thrones.

And behind them, in front of the twin thrones, a monster.

A monster I recognize from tales. A white griffin, guardian of gold hoards, its eagle wings tipped with silver, its talons and beak carved with symbols and shapes.

There, beside the griffin, stand the king and the Empress, side by side.

It has to be her. Her crown is tall and looks as if it’s fashioned from silver swords, sharp blades rising toward the ceiling. Her face is white like the moon, her eyes as dark as her gown is pale. Her hands… they have claws, I realize, black claws, and they are digging into her gown, shredding it as she watches me, the screeching of the tearing fabric the only sound right now.

“Well, well,” she says as I stand there, frozen, and she turns to face me fully. A wide smile spreads over her face, though it never reaches those black eyes. “Look what the big cat dragged in. I’m impressed, Talensar. I could have sworn you didn’t expect her to join us, and neither did I.”

I swallow hard. That was because I had let him believe that. Did she hurt him because of it? I rake my gaze over his tall form, over those broad shoulders, the shirt molding to his muscular chest, his narrow waist and hips, over his striking face and Gods, I missed him, I realize with a pang of fear and want.

No visible wounds, not lines of repressed pain on his handsome face—and since when do I think I can read him so well?

His dark blue eyes are fixed on me, a little too wide. He clearly didn’t expect me to show up and guilt worms its way through my insides.

I step out of the circle of the six guards, lift my chin and make my way between the Lesser Faeries, my gown dragging on the carpet, my hands sweaty at my sides. The Faeries seem to be glaring at me from odd, animal eyes, malevolent and angry.

“Your Majesty.” I make my way to the king whose mouth has formed a faint smile, his shoulders relaxing. I stop and give a small curtsy to them both, then I reach out and link my arm with his. “Talen.”

The Empress’ eyes narrow ever so slightly as Talen leans in and whispers in my ear, “Don’t lie to the Empress. She can smell lies. Only give answers you believe are true.”

“Follow his advice,” she says, not even pretending not to have heard.

From Talen’s unconcerned expression as he straightens, I know that it hadn’t been meant to be a secret. Probably something everyone here knew but me.

“Why would I lie?” I give the Empress a nod. “Your Eminence, I’m an open book.”

Her talons are still buried in the folds of her half-ruined gown. Her smile is all teeth—sharp, pointed teeth, I notice with an inner shiver. “You hid her from my emissary, Talensar.”

“It had been a tiring day for her,” he says smoothly. “She simply wasn’t in the room when your emissary arrived.”

Not a lie—but not a truth, either. I resist the urge to glance up at his face, see what expression he’s wearing.

“The game is still on, is this your message?” She pulls her talons out of the fabric of her gown and it mends itself, the fabric rippling, the holes closing. The touch of her magic flows over me like a cold wind. “You still think you can lift the curse in time?”

“Hope is the last to go,” he whispers.

“You let me come here to flaunt her in my face!”

“I thought you came here to see her for yourself.”

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