Page 60 of Taken By the Fae King

Standing in front of the ornate mirror, I study my reflection. The small scraps of silk that cover my breasts and pelvis are vastly different from the modest attire I’m used to in Florin, but at least I have something to wear.

The Fae ceremony is meant to be done without any clothing, and even though only a priestess is supposed to be present, I cannot deny how uncomfortable I’d feel standing there nude.

Emryll hands me my robe, and I draw it around my shoulders, tying the sash securely around my waist. The material is green and softer than the finest silk and smooth against my skin.

“Do you want your hair up or do you wish to leave it unbound?” Emryll asks.

“How do most Fae wear their hair for their ceremonies?”

“Unbound,” she replies.

This is my home now and I wish to honor the ways of my new people. “Then, I will leave it down.”

She rests her hands on my shoulders, a smile on her face as she studies my reflection. “You are lovely,” she whispers. “My brother will probably lose the ability to speak when he sees you standing before him.” She laughs and my cheeks flare with heat.

“Do you remember the words and how to draw the runes?” she asks. “Or would you like to go over them again?”

“I remember,” I tell her. And I should. We only practiced all morning because I wanted to make sure that I would not forget anything during the ceremony.

“It is time then.”

Drawing in a deep breath, I steel myself and follow her to the temple.

Silver moonlight spillsin through the temple windows. The entire structure is a living, breathing testament to the ancient power of the Fae. Towering trees, their trunks twisted and gnarled with age, cradle the sacred space with an otherworldly grace. Vines adorned with glowing flowers, a vibrant dance of blues, pinks, and purples, weave their way through the branches above, casting a mesmerizing, ethereal light.

I stand before the altar, heart hammering in my chest, as I gaze up at Kyven. He stands tall and regal, with a crown of twisting silver adorning his white hair. His eyes meet mine, and my knees weaken beneath me.

My pulse quickens with a mix of fear, anticipation, and desire clouding my senses. His captivating violet eyes lock onto mine, the intensity of his gaze like a physical touch.

The priestess lifts a wreath of flowers from the altar and gently places it atop my head before putting a wreath of vines on Kyven. She then instructs us to follow her.

The full moon bathes the ground in silver light as we follow the priestess outside the temple and to a circle of glowing l’sair crystals. Kyven takes my hand, leading me into the center before turning back to face me.

The is the moment I will become his true queen, bound to him by blood and magic, forever.

My heart hammers as I unfasten the sash of my robe. Drawing in a deep breath, I lower my gaze as I carefully allow it to slip from my shoulders. It falls to the ground, pooling at my feet.

I understand the purpose of this ritual, but I am still nervous. The Fae bare themselves to each other as they speak their vows as a symbol of trust.

Kyven’s robe falls to the ground. Swallowing against the knot of nerves in my throat, my gaze travels up his body. My heart swells when I note the loincloth tied around his waist.

A faint smile crests my lips. He did this for me… for my comfort.

My hand trembles as I reach for his, and he takes it gently in his own, his touch sending shivers through me. A faint pulse of magic travels across the tenuous connection, filling me with warmth.

The high priestess steps forward, her voice solemn as she begins the ceremony. I can barely concentrate on her words, my mind too caught up in the maelstrom of emotions churning through me.

She presents a small bowl to Kyven. He dips his finger in the silver paint and then gently touches my forehead.

The paint is cool against my skin as he draws the first rune on my forehead, speaking words in the ancient Fae tongue of love and devotion eternal before moving down to my chest.

The paint glows on my skin, beneath the moonlight. I inhale sharply as the tip of his finger slides between the valley of my breasts as he draws the next rune. The fabric of my bra suddenly feels tight as my body responds to his touch and the intensity of his gaze as he studies me with reverent focus.

He kneels and then paints the next rune upon my abdomen. Goosebumps pebble my flesh as he draws the Fae symbols of fidelity and fertility intersecting one another.

When he is finished, his eyes lift to mine, his gaze both possessive and tender as he stands and then hands me the bowl.

A shaky breath escapes my lips as I struggle to calm my nerves. I know how sacred this moment is, and I’m so worried I’ll do something wrong.

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