Page 10 of Chosen By the Fae King

Paying little mind to my provisional quarters, I hurried to wash off the stench of travel and pulled my long, light honey-brown hair into a simple braid. I wasn't impressed with the clean clothing supplied, but at least it smelled nice.

Sofiya was waiting for me when I stepped into the hall. Her eyes rounded, looking me up and down.

“Not a word, Sofiya. Not one.”

Her hands slapped over her mouth dramatically and she mumbled nonsense into them. I laughed, quickly quieting as three contestants moved past us.

Soberly, Sofiya hooked her arm with mine. We followed them down the hall, wondering what awaited us on the other side of the double doors.

The common room wasn't what I was expecting. It was similar to the quarters I'd been assigned, decorated with rich colors, large comfortable furniture, and luxurious rugs. Gaming tables were set up. Bookshelves lined one full wall.

Pockets of females were gathered in various spaces. It appeared as though Sofiya and I were the last to arrive. Though, I didn't see Astrid and hoped she was faring well.

“Welcome, ladies,” the kind-eyed servant greeted from the front of the room. “You will be called in one at a time to meet the king. He likes to take his time so please make yourselves comfortable.”

A few excited titters arose.

“King Nox has requested that you do not speak to one another until tomorrow. After your meeting, you will return to your rooms and dine alone, then you are expected to rest. Guards will be stationed in the hallway. Should you need anything, you can ask one of them to find me. Any questions?”

No one spoke. In fact, quite a few studiously ignored the servant.

“I have one,” I said.

“Yes?”

“What is your name?”

Subtly, the servant's head shook. “Pardon?”

“Your name? So that we know what to call you?”

“You call her servant,” someone derided from the corner of the room.

I didn't look to see who it was. I had a feeling I knew.

The servant's clasped hands tightened, her mouth pinched.

“That will be all, Greer,” a voice reverberated through the room as the big blonde guard from this morning strode through the door.

Sir Vanilla had ditched his soldier garb. He'd traded for clean black leathers and a tan embroidered tunic I feared his muscles might bust out of at any moment. He was still armed with a sword on one hip and smaller blades on his belt.

Greer curtsied and said, “Thank you, my lord,” before making haste to get out of the common room. I couldn't blame her.

Wait ... my lord?

“Sit,” he commanded, snapping and pointing like we were dogs. The females dropped in unison with rapt attention, as though he'd cast a spell over them.

Sofiya tugged my skirt and I carefully lowered to the seat beside her. It wasn't easy considering how stiff and uncomfortable my garments were.

The fine dress, a deep emerald green, had been laid out on the bed along with soft, racy underthings–underthings I'd die before admitting how empowered they made me feel once I had them on.

The shoes, gorgeous as they were, I hadn't any idea how to walk in. So I kept my boots. I'd gone through the wardrobe to look for garments and footwear more to my tastes, but it was empty.

The male's grey eyes fell on each contestant, keen and observant. He paused on Sofiya, his broad chest expanding with his deep inhale. She didn't breathe until he moved on to the next female.

I wasn't disappointed he paid me no mind. I supposed he'd already assessed me during our short interaction in Greenhollow.

When his once-over got to the petite female with white-blonde hair, his jaw flexed. Her face blanched, but she didn't look away until he addressed the room.

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