Page 7 of Taken By the Fae King

“What is it?” I frown. “Tell me.”

“As your true mate, she will be closer to you than anyone else.” His blue eyes search mine. “Do you trust her?”

I understand his worry, but his fears are unfounded. “She is a princess, not an assassin.”

“Anyone can kill,” he says darkly. “Her father thought one of our people was responsible for her mother’s death. What if this is some sort of elaborate trap for revenge?”

“I trust her,” I tell him, trying to put his concerns to rest. “She will not harm me.”

“How do you know?”

“Because I know her,” I reply, inwardly cursing myself for giving too much away. Aren doesn’t know my secret. Varys knows, but he has been bound by magic to reveal nothing, and I’ll not risk telling anyone else. Even my best friend and personal guard.

His brow furrows deeply. “But you only recently met.”

“If she had any ill intent toward me, I would have sensed it when I touched her hand,” I explain.

His eyes widen slightly before he nods, seemingly satisfied by my answer.

Only a few of my kind possess the ability to read someone through touch. I am one of them. I have been feared by many because of it. Even my own parents were afraid when they learned what I could do.

This ability is one that gave birth to some of the rumors humans used to have about my people. They believed we could read their minds and ensorcell them simply by staring into their eyes, which is just as ridiculous as the myth that Fae could not tell any lies.

It is a crime among my people to read another Fae without their permission, which is why I was trained to create a mental shield between myself and others at all times. Since Grayce is human, this law technically does not apply to her, but I would never search her mind without her consent. But I tell Aren this now so that he will not question my trust in my future queen.

“It is late,” I murmur. “I will see you in the morning.”

“I’ll be next door if you need anything,” he says, bowing before he leaves the room.

Night has fallen, but I am too anxious to sleep. I pull the handkerchief from my tunic pocket and lift it to my nose, inhaling the subtle scent of my mate deep into my lungs.

It was a gift she gave me, while I was disguised as Joren. A pang of longing stabs my chest as I study the silken material. She embroidered it with scrolling vines, covered with tiny purple flowers along the edge. I have kept it with me ever since. It was my only connection to her while we were apart.

I think back to the first time I saw her. My father had suggested marrying me to her younger sister, Inara, to secure a peace with Florin. I was a second born son, and he assumed her brother—King Edmynd—would be more likely to marry her off for an alliance rather than Grayce, who is next in line for the throne.

Using a glamour to appear human, I came to Florin only to glimpse Inara—wondering about the woman my father would try to barter me away to, but instead I saw Grayce.

Instantly, I knew she was my A’lyra. I’ve heard others describe the pull of the fated bond, but I never realized how all-consuming it would be.

I shadowed her every move, and learned everything I could about her. Her favorite color is purple, and roses are her favorite flowers. She chews her bottom lip when she is deep in contemplation. She has an inquisitive mind, and spends long hours in the palace library researching various languages and cultures. She loves reading romance novels, but she hides them beneath her mattress to avoid being teased by her brother, Raiden.

He often jokes that she is a hopeless romantic, but I know something that she does not. He is too. Raiden reads as many of those novels as she does, but no one would know it, the way he makes fun of such things.

When Grayce cannot sleep, which is most nights, she climbs down the vine trellis of her balcony to the palace gardens below. Her favorite spot is the rosebush-lined wall along the southeast corner.

I am not ashamed to admit that I shadowed her for days to learn her patterns. Once I did, I made sure to place myself in her path, making it appear as no more than mere happenstance. Presenting myself as a simple palace gardener, tending to her favorite plants. I made sure to accidentally drop a copy of a romance novel I knew she liked.

In truth, I did enjoyThe Queen’s Knight. It has led me to seek out other such novels in my own library back home. Of course, each one that I read I now imagine myself and her as the main characters in the story.

Many nights I snuck into her balcony window to watch her sleep. I convinced myself that all of this was harmless because I never touched her, but in truth, I allowed it to go much too far and now… everything inside me wants to gather her in my arms, tell her who I am, and kiss her as I have longed to do ever since we met, but I cannot. To do so, I would risk losing everything.

It has only been a few hours since we spoke, but I long to see her again. If she has not broken from her normal, nightly routine, she is probably in her room now. Every evening she drinks a cup of lavender tea with two chocolate biscuits, sometimes three if she has had a particularly long day.

With a heavy sigh, I walk onto the balcony and look out over the palace gardens. With neatly trimmed bushes, and perfectly aligned rows of flowers, it’s all so orderly and… somewhat strange. As if they’ve been forced to grow in a certain way, rather than allowed to flourish naturally. So unlike the wild, untamed beauty of my own home in the Fae realm.

I spent much time with Grayce in this space, and I know how much she enjoys it. Especially the rose-bush lined wall near the back gate. It is the place where I used to meet her often.

Where Joren met her, I remind myself bitterly.

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