Page 120 of The Forbidden Fae King

A scream pierces the air, then another, turning my blood to ice. I creep back through the woods, toward that woman’s wail. My friends try to tug me back to safety, but I push forward.

An old moonstone portal glows vibrantly. I crouch behind a bush and watch two high fae men drag a woman each from the swirling mists, snatched from the human realm. The women kick and fight to no avail. They plead to go back. To be set free. One man tosses a girl over his shoulder and the other carries his prize around the waist.

The opening of portals is strictly forbidden, but there have been rumors of fae traveling through them to kidnap a human consort.

“What do we do?” Saga whispers to me, tears running down the bark of her face.

I shake my head. “We follow them. Find out which village those high fae are from, then tell the druid elders.”

Something fractures deep in my soul as we watch the abuse of those women from a distance, being pulled by their hair, tossed to the ground, and finally tugged into a cellar beneath a great tree, where they will be broken into good little wives.

Scenes flicker by so quickly my head spins.

The mad dash through the trees back to the druid city. Standing before the council of the elders as they argue back and forth about how something must be done, but theirs is the power of healing and nurturing the earth, not of battle. A decision is made to petition the king, and my father volunteers to travel to the City of Vertical Gardens with me.

Flicker.

My breath catches as we walk down the center of the great hall of the palace. I have never seen such opulence. The floor is an elaborate mosaic of marble, depicting flowers and the low fae of the Spring Court. The walls are gilded and great velvet curtains hang over immense, arching leadlight windows.

But it is the sight of the king that sets my stomach tumbling. He is seated upon his throne on a dais, his bright emerald eyes glittering against the tan of his skin. I have never seen such a beautiful man.

His petition hall is almost empty, except for a few guards and the king’s adviser. We had expected him to make us wait for the formal session in a few days time, but as soon as we told our story to one of his stewards, he saw us immediately.

“King Jarrah of the Spring Court, I present to you the Druid Belemor and the acolyte Iona.” We are announced and we bow deeply before him.

King Jarrah steps down from the dais and stands before us. “No need for formalities. Speak to me. Has there been a violation of the portal treaty with the humans?” His gaze dashing between mine and my father’s.

I tell him my story. Every last painful detail of what I witnessed. He doesn’t interrupt me or turn to my father for confirmation. When I am done, he simply nods and beckons the captain of his guard over.

“Take a task force and investigate these allegations immediately,” King Jarrah commands.

The soldier turns on his heel and leaves.

“I would like to thank you for informing me about this nasty affair. Such violent practices cannot go unpunished.” The king’s eyes dance as they hold mine. “I would like to invite you to stay at the palace for a while.” He spares a glance at my father. “I get so very few chances to meet my citizens from the druid city and I would like to get to know you a little better.”

My head spins as he holds my hand in his. “I would like that,”,” I say a little breathlessly. My father speaks but I cannot hear him over the rush of my blood.

Flicker.

The mild breeze flicks up the curls of my hair as we walk through rose gardens under the light of the moon, my arm tucked into the crook of Jarrah’s. It has become a ritual of ours over the last weeks. He smiles as he gazes down into my face and it feels like we are the only people in the world, despite the guards that trail behind us.

Music flows out of the ballroom of the palace, along with voices laughing and talking. My king throws these balls because I like to dance. Because I cannot get enough of the feel of his arms around my waist and his body pressed so close to mine. It feels like home.

We find the center of the gardens, where a grand fountain gurgles and Jarrah seats me on a bench before it, then kneels in front of me. He takes both my hands in his, kissing each one lightly, and my head spins.

He looks up at me, burning with passion. “Iona, will you do me the honor of becoming my wife? My queen?”

I stare at him in shock. “Why me?” I whisper but my heart swells with love for him.

He takes my chin in his hand gently. “Nobody makes me feel alive like you do. None have your sheer capacity for empathy. You put your life on hold to find justice for two women you do not know. And quite frankly, because I am in love with you.”

“But I am human.” I half-whisper. “Will the fae accept me as their queen?”

“They will,” Jarrah says with certainty. “I will make sure of it and will tolerate no less. When the portals were open and the human and fae realmscoexisted as one, it was not a rarity for kings and nobility to have a human spouse.”

I throw myself into his arms, and he grunts with surprise at the suddenness of my movement, then wraps his embrace around me.

“You haven’t answered my question, Iona.”

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