Page 20 of Kissed By Songs of Lilies

I was taken aback by the warning in his tone.

He bridal carried me down a long, empty hallway until we finally reached a colossal set of doors. Through my thin, wet garment, his strong arms seared his natural body heat into my skin and warmed my chilled bones.

As he turned the door knob, my heart beat faster. I knew what I had promised him. I was a stolen bride. Did this count as our wedding night? Did the fae even hold formal ceremonies?

For just a moment, I dared to look up into his eyes.

He gazed back, and my breath hitched.

I imagined what was going to happen next. He would wrap his arms around me, unencumbered by watchful eyes, and drag me to his bedroom. There, my wet shift would hit the floor followed by his handsome cloak. I would run my hands along his strong muscular biceps and chest. He would bring his delicious, sinful mouth to my bare shoulder and languidly work his way up to my neck.

My overactive imagination came to a screeching halt as I was roughly deposited on the floor. I was so surprised I slipped in a puddle made from the water of my own dripping, wet shift.

Of course, he didn’t apologize.

I looked up at him in annoyance and found his appearance had changed. His brilliant facade was fading—his skin had turned a sickly, pale green, and his limbs drooped with exhaustion.

He didn’t even bother to look at me as he muttered, "Take whichever room you like."

Without another word, he entered a nearby doorway and flopped down on a majestic king sized bed. Then, with a wave of his hand, the door magically closed behind him.

I should have been relieved, part of me certainly was, but there was another part that was astounded. How dare he drag me through mortal peril, then just slam the door in my face? Was he so tired from the journey? Was this the true man behind the powerful exterior?

With him gone, I could begin searching for my sister immediately. I started a few paces toward the doors but stopped. My legs were shaking like a newborn calf and without his glamour, I was cold. I was also nearly naked and wearing a soaking wet garment.

No, I wasn’t ready to search the castle. Not in this state.

Tomorrow, I promised.

CHAPTER 11

The Fae King

Iclosed the door between my "bride" and I.

Away from prying eyes, I collapsed into my luscious silk sheets and sighed. I had forgotten how hard it was to really try. For so long, I had believed the curse was unbreakable. I had resigned myself to a half-life filled with near constant deceit. Then with my crown and isle at stake, I had been forced to make a move.

Would it prove miraculous or disastrous? That was yet to be determined.

Still, I was drained–emotionally, physically, and magically. I had traveled to the human realm, glamoured my fae characteristics, bound our bargain, ensnared her family, and called down lightning. Just thinking of it made me exhausted.

Not to mention I had saved her from drowning and carried her halfway here. Though, I wasn’t sure I had saved her. Part of me believed she had faked the entire thing. She couldn’t possibly be so fragile.

After all, my bride wasn’t just any mortal. She was the daughter of my enemy–the witch who had turned me into a frog. With such powerful magic coursing through her veins, surely she could hold her breath and swim through some cold water.

But she had looked so helpless under the waves, kicking at the water sprites. Her eyes had been round with fear. Even still, I couldn’t help but think somehow she was playing me.

Before I could rest my head against my pillow, my whole body began to shake. My exhaustion was triggering the curse. I gave in, and the change came swiftly. Soon, I was a bullfrog once more. I released what would have been a swear but came out as a "ribbit."

My emotions, so long deadened, had awakened this weekend. I had felt short bursts of joy, still outweighed by sorrow and self loathing. I had hoped our betrothal might free me from my curse, but that hadn’t come to pass. Then, I thought perhaps her arrival on my ancestral soil might do the trick. No such luck.

Unfortunately, it seemed the witch’s curse required more.

What had been her exact words? I ran quickly through my memories of that day. It felt as if they had been carved into my gray matter. "You can break your curse, but I doubt someone like you ever will."

Not exactly helpful. The other witches I had consulted suggested I marry within the witch’s bloodline. One even had the gall to suggest a love match would be best.

A love match? With a human? Absurd.

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