Page 32 of Chosen By the Fae King

I snorted. The last thing I wanted was to play princess. The only thing on my body I didn't want to burn to ashes was the lingerie.

Though, I had to admit this dress was far superior to the last. It moved with me and allowed me to breathe thanks to the stretch in the light blue fabric.

The skirt flared too far out for my personal tastes, but I could see why someone would feel feminine and enjoy wearing it.

I wobbled and an embarrassing squeak leaked out from between my lips. Raina turned around and Sofiya tightened her grip.

“She's fine,” she told Raina, who didn't look convinced but thankfully minded her own business.

“You can do this,” Sofiya whispered and took us through the doors.

In the center of the ballroom was a clump of color and chirping females. Contestants fluttered fans and spoke animatedly with one another. Raina kept to the fringes, as did a handful of others.

“What is happening?” I asked in a hushed tone.

“They're ... socializing. Maybe feeling pretty has made them nicer?”

“Doubtful.”

Sofiya sighed. “Agreed. Come on,” she guided me closer.

Lorne moved to the front of the room. “Quiet.”

A hush fell.

“You have one week to prepare yourselves. Liam and I have created a brief training program aligned to what will be asked of you in the trials. You will be competing in events that will test your intelligence, fortitude, wisdom, strength, control of magic, and courage, as well as elegance and other queenly things.”

What in the world were queenly things? And how did one compete in elegance? These seemed the most harmless but they scared me nonetheless.

“Madam Hilda?” he called.

Heels clicked rhythmically on the wooden floor and a small, proper female came into view. Her posture was straighter than any I'd ever seen.

Smartly dressed in all black, her fitted jacket showed just a hint of cleavage underneath. The matching wide-legged pants revealed a tiny waist.

The click-clack sound was produced by her even tinier feet that were crammed into the tallest heels in the room. Her dark green hair was perfectly coiffed atop her head in a twisted updo.

She was the epitome of style.

“Today's training will be spent with me, practicing grace and the meaning of elegance.” Her voice came out far more robust than her stature suggested.

“We will also review the rules for decorum and behavior not only during the trials, but as possible future queens. I need everyone to spread out into a straight line. That means now, ladies. I expect you to pay attention and to never dally.”

It quickly became clear that tiny Hilda was a tyrant. I was a little afraid of her.

She ordered us about, having us practice walking, and gliding, and sitting properly in our queenly attire. I tried not to notice how the others had little to no issue with the regal walking.

I may not have been the model of grace back in Greenhollow, but I wasn’t a klutz or accident-prone. In fact, I was good at avoiding accidents and getting out of physical predicaments handily.

I was steady when I was in shoes designed for actual feet or, preferably, barefoot. I'd always been able to outrun many of the fae I'd grown up with, even some of the males. Climbing trees was a cinch and I could easily find purchase, even with my old boots on.

Nothing in my history, however, had prepared me for this moment.

These suicide pumps were not shoes. They were a test of my sanity. At least the tiny tyrant was around to help and provide critical feedback.

Hilda gave me helpful suggestions like, “Stop being a complete disaster,” “I've never seen anything like this all my years,” and my favorite, “I hope the gods take mercy upon your soul.”

I'd thanked her for that last one. I didn't really care how I looked, I was more worried about breaking my ankle over such pretentious and snobbish practices. Or, worse, dragging someone down with me on my way to the ground.

---