Page 15 of Taken By the Fae King

Dressed in his gold and black armor, which does littler to conceal his lean, muscular form beneath, he is strikingly handsome to behold.

When we reach the altar, Kyven’s violet eyes meet mine, their vertically slit pupils expanding slightly as he studies me intensely. The pointed tips of his ears peek out from his short silver-white hair. He has an aristocratic nose and brows, and a masculine square jaw that could cut glass.

He is so tall the top of my head does not quite reach his chin. I’ve always heard the Fae was the very definition of handsomeness and beauty. Gazing up at him now, I know that these rumors were not wrong. He is the most handsome man I have ever seen.

My heart hammers as we stand across from each other, and my cheeks flare with heat. If he is nervous at all, he is excellent at hiding it. His face is an impassive mask.

I swallow hard, trying to appear stoic to hide my uncertainty. In truth, I am pledging my life to a man I barely know, a man who is king of a people that mine have been fighting against for over a hundred years.

The weight of this moment is nearly overwhelming, but I hold my head high, determined to be brave.

My younger sister, Inara, stands beside me as my maid of honor. Her golden hair is styled similar to mine, but she is dressed in elegant Elvish robes, similar to her husband—King Varys—who stands next to Kyven. His own silver robes are a stark contrast to his gray-blue skin, short, black hair, and glowing blue eyes.

Their union gives me hope that my marriage to Kyven could be successful.

Out of the corner of my vision, I see Raiden staring daggers at my soon-to-be husband, his brown eyes narrowed as he looks him up and down.

Lukas stands on the other side. His golden eyes meet mine briefly before sweeping to Kyven with a threatening glare.

I stop short of rolling my eyes. They make a wonderful pair—each of them ready to murder my soon-to-be husband at a moment’s notice.

My cousin Freyja, and her husband, King Aurdyn—the Dragon King—sit beside them. A smile lights her face as Aurdyn curls his left wing around her shoulder, tugging her close to his side. I pray that my marriage will be as blessedly happy as theirs seems to be.

Edmynd kisses my forehead, and then relinquishes my arm to take a seat in the front row beside the rest of my family.

Kyven takes my hands, his grip firm and steady. His callused palms are warm in mine.

I force my voice to remain steady as I speak my vows. When I promise to love, honor, and cherish him, something flickers behind his eyes—an emotion I cannot quite place.

Despite my nerves, the rich, deep timbre of his voice makes heat rise in my cheeks as he promises the same in return.

When he is finished, the priest looks at us both. “It is time for the exchanging of the rings.”

One of his guards hands him the ring, and Kyven steps closer. The air shifts with his movement, and the smell of fresh rain and forest fills the space around us.

I inhale sharply as he holds out my ring and my eyes travel over the delicate silver band etched with tiny leaves. I stare in surprise at the purple moonstone setting in the shape of a rose.

My heart hammers. This is my sign. It is the purple rose I saw in my vision.

I lift my eyes to Kyven, and I’m caught in his intense violet gaze, unable to move. I have always trusted my instincts, and in my heart I understand now that the gods are directing my path.

Our fates are entwined.

CHAPTER9

KYVEN

Lifting her delicate hand, I carefully slip the ring onto her fourth finger. I see surprise in her eyes as she studies it before she lifts her gaze back to me.

My heart clenches as her hazel eyes search mine. She is stunningly gorgeous, dressed in her long, white gown with tiny crystals embedded in the bodice and trailing down the elegant fabric like starlight.

The sunlight catches on her chestnut hair, twisted in a series of small braids and appearing like a crown atop her head. A few spiraling tendrils frame her lovely heart-shaped face accentuating the delicate features of her brows, nose, and chin and the plush bow of her soft, pink lips.

The delicate scent of rose oil with a hint of lavender floods my nostrils, her familiar scent stirring the primal instincts buried deep inside me. I long more than anything to seal her to me, so that none will doubt that she is mine.

Long, dark lashes frame her eyes—their golden-brown coloring flecked through with chips of green. A lovely and unique combination that never fails to fascinate me. I study the pattern of tiny spots that dot her cheeks and her dainty nose as her rose pink lips part slightly beneath my gaze.

When she places my ring on my finger, I am surprised by the detail of the band. Intertwining vines of silver with tiny thorns and flowers carved into the metal. A smile crests my lips when I realize they are roses. Our rings are a match even though we did not confer upon this before our wedding, and I am in awe of the workings of fate.

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