Page 107 of The Forbidden Fae King

I place a hand on the small of her back, and lead our party down an offshoot from the main boulevard.

Klara raises an eyebrow at me. “Is this wise? Should we not head straight to the palace?”

I pull my pocket watch out of my travel pack and inspect the time. “Let’s live a little. Twenty minutes to enjoy the city.”

I lead us through an open-air bazaar. It is on the ground level of an immense building on stilts, with only wide arches walling it in. Those regularly positioned columns are engraved with images of nymphs and vines.

Keira gawks and turns in full circles as she takes in the many stores.

We pass a shop that has spices arranged in pyramids of red, yellow, brown, and green, with dried herbs hanging from its ceiling. We practically have to pull Caitlin away, with promises to return.

Another stall has displays of flowers in every color imaginable, some larger than my hand. Some sell chocolates, perfumes, twenty types of olives, or fresh fruits. The entire space smells of the tang and richness of spices, vinegar and pollen.

Caitlin stops dead at a store that sells artisan painted glass lamps. There are fire orbs within them, illuminating the leadlight and casting their colors across the floor. Klara pulls her along by the elbow, and I am surprised for a moment, because I never took her for one to care for pretty things.

“All those fire orbs would be worth enough to buy a small estate back home,” Caitlin utters.

“They are cheap and common here,” Klara informs her. “Most high fae have enough fire magic to create their own. It is mainly low fae and elementals who buy them.”

Keira’s eyes dart around, as those she is trying to commit every detail to memory. A huge smile graces her lips. It fills me with pure happiness. I wrap an arm around her waist and lead her out of the bazaar.

We take a winding avenue up the vertical city. The platforms and staircases here are constructed from the roots and branches of a series of wisteria trees, their huge trunks melding in with the buildings.

The way is surrounded on both sides by cafes, restaurants, and bars, framed by the curtains of purple wisteria flowers, their fallen petals creating a carpet beneath our feet.

Tables and chairs and patrons spill out of each restaurant. The area buzzes with activity. There are musicians and street performers everywhere, lone artists playing instruments for diners at a restaurant or bands taking up one of the many dais built for them.

A lute player serenades us for a handful of steps, staring into Keira’s eyes while singing, until I toss him a coin. Keira comes to a full stop before a fae who creates flowing, colorful images in the air with light, her art a story of dragons battling each other, their long bodies fluttering and thrashing above our heads.

“It is beautiful,” Keira utters.

While she is transfixed by the show, I am mesmerized by her breathtaking loveliness. The colored lights reflect upon her skin, accentuating the soft curve of her generous lips, the vibrancy of her tightly curling hair and that line of cleavage I can see from my vantage point down the neckline of her dress.

Keira turns to say something to me, then notices the subject of my attention and that open mouth turns into a smile so wicked they don’t seem to belong to the same woman.

Gods, I could take her right now.

I feel like the king of the world when she gives herself to me. It is an utter privilege.

“We can’t linger here.” Klara breaks the tension.

I hate that she is right. I want the people to glimpse me, to question whether I am their king returned, but to be gone before any form the conviction to approach me.

We continue upwards, across golden bridges that span glittering waterfalls and past gardens of miniature rainforests nestled between buildings. Puca run rampage in some of the wilder parts, swiping food from the carts of unwary street vendors and scurrying up the sides of buildings in a flurry of black fur, long pointed ears and claws.

Of course, I have to stop to buy street food from those same vendors to see the look on Keira’s face as she eats it. They have some of the best food in the realm. I settle on skewers of spiced, charcoal-roasted meats and flaky pastries with berries and nuts.

“Damnnn, I have missed this!” Drake takes another bite of the meat, then sighs and throws back his head.

Keira licks the juices from her fingers. “And I thought the camp food was good!”

“Oh, my cooking is good.” Drake gives her a slow smile. “But I haven’t had the right resources in the wilds.”

“Are there no bounds to your ego, Drake?” Klara asks in a flat voice, but her lips quirk.

“Why should it have bounds?” Drake raises his eyebrows. “Especially if it’s true.” Klara gives him a deadpan look. “Come on, admit that you love my food.” He pokes her in the ribs.

Caitlin stares at a skewer, turning the stick around in her hand, as though she is trying to unpack every flavor on it. Her eyes flick up to her sister. “I want to buy spices to bring home. As much as we can carry.” Keira gives her a wide smile.

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