Page 9 of Chosen By the Fae King

My blood still simmered with anger over Astrid's mistreatment, and I vowed this would not be an easy experience for King Nox–or for the fae now sizing me up.

“Aeryn,” Sofiya interrupted my thoughts. “Look.”

Peering up at what had caught her attention, my mind registered the magnitude of Thornewood. It was an imposing construction, stretching as wide as my peripheral, and it felt just as tall.

Storm-grey stone stood out against the dusky sky, all harsh angles and looming towers that seemed to pierce the clouds. Touches of artistry softened the edges, with intricate carvings and mirrored glass windows that caught the last rays of the sun.

Even from this distance, I could see the complex detailing on windows and door frames, like lace made of stone. I'd never seen anything like it.

“It's beautiful,” I whispered, my eyes drinking in the sight.

Sofiya snorted. “I suppose.”

I shot her a quizzical look, but she just shook her head. “Ignore me. I shouldn't be surprised you so easily find light in the dark.”

“I think you have us mixed up, Sofi.”

She shook her head again. “Come on, we don't want to get left behind. Thornewood is so big we might never be found.”

Arm in arm, we walked over to the back of the group gathered around the butler who'd opened our coach's door. We only caught the end of his little speech.

“… not speak or touch anything until you get to your rooms. Now, if you will please follow me inside,” he bowed shallowly and escorted us up the stairs and into the castle.

Just past the doorway, he took an immediate left through a narrow passageway that led to a small room with two other passages connected to it.

“This way, please,” a new voice spoke, feminine and sweet.

The group followed dutifully, walking past the male who eyed each contestant warily. I was too far back to see our new leader, but I already preferred her over the male who appeared put out by our presence.

Once we reached the bottom of another staircase, we stopped. The new servant, a pale plump female with kind brown eyes, stood a few steps up to see us better.

“My ladies, only a minute more and we'll be there. I'm sure you all would like to freshen up as soon as possible, so we're taking the most direct route,” she explained before continuing through winding stone corridors lit by torchlight.

I wondered if she'd waited until out of earshot from the grumpy butler to explain why we weren't moving through the main parts of Thornewood.

“Here are your rooms,” the servant said, gesturing to a long hallway lined with heavy wooden doors. “Please make yourselves comfortable and prepare to meet His Majesty. When you are ready, proceed to the common area at the end of this hall.” With a curtsy, she took her leave.

Most of the females dispersed into their rooms, chattering excitedly at the prospect of meeting the king. A contestant strode over to me, icy blue eyes glinting between perfectly styled rose gold curls.

“Aren't you a bold one, shouting at the king's guard like that,” she purred. “I'd be careful if I were you, dearie. Nox does not tolerate insolence. He'd be right to punish you. Then again, it might not matter much since you obviously won't make it through the trials.”

I bristled at the thinly veiled threat, my mouth opening without thought.

“I don't tolerate the mistreatment of others,” I shot back. “And none of you seemed inclined to lift a finger.”

Her lips twisted into a sneer. “So noble,” she mocked. “But noble fae don't last long in Nox's court. Or his bed.”

My hands curled into fists as I struggled not to rise to the bait. I'd met fae like her, beings who enjoyed putting others down to make themselves feel superior. She was the worst kind of bully, and I refused to give her the satisfaction of a reaction.

With a disdainful sniff, she flounced away, the train of her deep crimson skirt swirling dramatically behind her.

Sofiya came to stand beside me, slipping her arm through mine. “Pay her no mind,” she said. “She's only trying to rile you because she so obviously wants to win.”

“As if I care what that viper thinks,” I scoffed, though the comments had struck a nerve.

The shrew was right about one thing. If I wanted to survive, I would need to rein in my temper and be more careful with my words. I refused to change who I was, or stand by while others were mistreated, but I could dial back my mouth.

“We don't have much time,” I told her. “Clean up and we can walk together to meet our captor.”

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