Page 4 of Kissed By Songs of Lilies

The words hit me like a punch to the gut. Was I really doing such a poor job of masking? Could they so easily see behind my false smiles and feigned energy? The stories of drink and women? Did they... see me?

A thrill of terror ripped through me, and dread began to pool in my stomach. "Were they sincere?" I asked.

A measure of relief crossed his face. "Not yet. It was merely one of numerous possibilities bandied about."

"Then it’s fine," I said hopefully.

He frowned. "There was silence after the suggestion. No one laughed."

"So, they considered it?"

He nodded slowly. "I think they’ll be watching more carefully from now on."

"Damn them. Who started such dangerous talk?" I demanded.

"Hawthorne."

I nodded. "It has long been rumored he maintains more than a casual connection with the unseelie court. He’d like nothing more than to see my reign end. I should have banished him long ago."

"It would be easier for him to work in shadows than light," Harry reminded me.

"The idea was to keep him close. Not give him the means to sway my own advisory council against me." I paused and took a swig from my goblet. "Is there anything you can do to end the rumors?"

"Any interference on my part would only give his claim legitimacy."

I nodded. "Of course. Then it is up to me."

"You?" he echoed.

I should have been offended by the surprise on his face, but I wasn’t. The truth was I’d rather end this conversation and return to bed. I could sink beneath the covers, drown myself in drink, and stare up at the blighted stars.

The ones that had cursed my fate.

He turned to me with concern. Slowly, uncertainly, he said, "I know this curse weighs upon you. I know the realm does too. But you don’t have... you’d say if…"

I glared at him, leaving his question unanswered.

He bowed. A formality we usually skipped. "I’ll take my leave then. If there’s anything I can do, if…" he trailed off and then turned away.

"Thank you," I said weakly as the door closed between us.

So, my advisors believed I had soul rot.

I snagged my goblet and made the slow procession to my inner chambers. I collapsed into my four-poster bed. No longer desiring the company of my council or any other. Not that night.

Soul rot was when melancholy ate away at a fae’s spirit, withering their essence until it crackled like decomposing leaves and blew away on the wind. A nasty business. Gruesome even for those who attended to the rotting.

A death sentence.

My death sentence.

CHAPTER 3

The Fae King

Ihad little time to act on the startling revelations of the evening. I hadn’t even decided on a course of action. Part of me hoped the problem would simply go away.

It was still early in the morning. Day had not yet broken. Despite that, someone was pounding on my chamber doors. Who would dare wake their king?

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