Page 86 of Taken By the Fae King

“Like what?” I ask, curious to know what they spoke of.

“About our males luring unsuspecting human maidens into the forests to seduce them.” She laughs. “And that we are unable to tell falsehoods, but we can bend the truth to serve us instead.”

I frown. “I thought Fae could not lie as well. Is… this not true?”

“We are like any of the other races.” She arches a teasing brow. “But I suspect my ancestors may have spread this myth in the hopes that it would make others trust us more.”

My heart stutters and stops. Everything Kyven has said I have accepted as truth because I believed this myth about his people.

“Are you all right?” Emryll asks, concerned. “What is wrong?”

The heart tree’s words echo in my mind. “Emryll, have you ever spoken to the spirit of the heart tree?”

Her eyes light up with a mix of reverence and wonder. “Yes, I have.”

“Did the guidance it gave truly help you?”

“I believe so.” Emryll smiles, her gaze thoughtful. “The priestesses say that what it tells you may be hard to interpret because the spirit of the tree only tells you what you need to hear to set you on the right path.”

My heart clenches with worry, recalling the cryptic words the heart tree’s spirit had shared with me. I can’t help but remember Kyven’s expression of sadness when we were there. My voice trembles as I confess my deepest fear. “The spirit said that someone dear to me will betray me, Emryll.”

Her fingers pause in my hair, her eyes meeting mine in the mirror. “Who do you think she was speaking of?”

My thoughts return to Kyven, but I cannot voice this aloud for fear that my heart will shatter. I love him, and I cannot bear the thought that he could be my betrayer. “I—I do not know.”

When we walk into the Grand Hall of the castle, it is a breathtaking sight. A testament to the craftsmanship and artistry of the Fae. Towering walls adorned with intricate carvings stretch toward the high, vaulted ceiling, their surfaces gilded with gold and silver. Graceful archways frame the hall, each one crafted from marble and adorned with delicate filigree, leading to opulent rooms beyond.

Large, floor-to-ceiling windows flood the hall with natural light, their panes crafted from enchanted glass with delicate, swirling patterns that capture the essence of the elements, a tribute to the Fae’s deep connection with nature.

A majestic chandelier, crafted from shimmering crystal, hangs from the center of the ceiling, bathing the hall in a warm, golden glow. The chandelier’s myriad of crystal prisms catch the light, reflecting a mesmerizing dance of rainbows upon the polished wood floor.

I’m nervous as I look out upon the crowd gathered to witness my ceremony. A sea of Fae nobility adorned in garments that gleam with the colors of gemstones and precious metals. Their faces reflect a mix of curiosity, anticipation, and a subtle undercurrent of skepticism as they watch me, a human queen, ascend to a position of power among them.

Whispers rustle through the assembly like the soft sigh of a breeze, but I cannot make out the words. My heart races in my chest, pounding like the beating of a thousand wings as I take slow, measured steps up the aisle towards Kyven, who waits for me at the altar. His eyes are warm and steady, a beacon of reassurance that guides me forward.

My nerves buzz beneath my skin, but I do my best to maintain an air of composure. I draw upon my inner strength to steady my trembling hands and quell the storm of emotions brewing within me.

Despite the crowd’s scrutiny and my own anxiety, I am determined to stand tall, to face the challenges and uncertainties of my position with courage. For Kyven, for our people, and for the future we will build together.

A hush falls over the crowd as Kyven stands before me, the ceremonial crown in his hands. The common people stand behind the line of nobility, their eyes wide with anticipation as they bear witness to this historic moment.

My brother, Raiden, and my best friend, Lukas, stand off to the side, steadfast in their support.

As Kyven places the crown upon my head, his eyes meet mine, and my heart squeezes in my chest. He takes my hand and we both face the crowd.

“I present to you Queen Grayce of Anlora, Princess of Florin. My fated one,” he says solemnly. “My A’lyra.”

A hush falls over the audience at this revelation, the weight of their collective realization settling upon us all.

“Sanishon,” someone says in the crowd.

“One of the Great Uniters,” another chimes in.

“She is the Sanishon Queen foretold,” someone else speaks aloud as several voices overlap, almost all of them repeating variations of the same thing.

As the ceremony ends, the crowd erupts in cheers, their voices rising like a symphony of hope and joy. Kyven takes my hand and guides me down the aisle. Many of them stare at me with a mix of awe and wonder.

Yet, I notice that some of the nobility, including Lord Torien, have only expressions of skepticism and anger. Their disdain for humans is evident in their stony expressions, a stark contrast to the jubilance that surrounds us.

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