Page 137 of The Forbidden Fae King

The castle in the distance is sprawled out on a rise. I would have thought it grand, with spires and turrets capped in terracotta, before I visited the fae realm.

It is in the same bland monotones as the city, the high wall and a dozen guard towers setting it apart. Rather than reaching to heights like most castles, it spreads out across the hilltop like there is no shortage of land in Sunbright City.

It is merely an ugly mark on the earth compared to Aldrin’s golden palace in the sky.

This entire city is dead and monotonous.

I didn’t only fall in love with the king of the Spring Court, my heart was captured by his home as well.

This place, and its prince, could never compare.

Chapter 35

Keira

Isuck in a sharp breath, as I prick my finger on my sewing needle and a drop of crimson blood immediately wells up. I stick it in my mouth and ignore the snickers from two of the ladies in wait, Fiona and Eliora.

The queen turns to me, looks at the messy embroidery in my hands, and lets out an irritated huff of breath. Hers depicts a scenery of wildflowers, and mine, I don’t even know what I was aiming for.

There are half a dozen of us in this suffocating room. The walls are painted white and decorated with purple borders and prints. Everything else matches, the couches we sit on, the tiny table loaded with pastries and tea, even the abundance of cushions scattered everywhere. I am so sick of seeing royal purple.

A knock resounds on the door, and a servant hurries to open it. The voice that drifts in releases the frustrated tension that has built within my shoulders all morning.

“I am here to escort my sister to her lessons.” Diarmuid’s words trail into the room.

The queen places down her embroidery, gets up from the couch with a graceful sweep of her skirts, and walks to the door. “Whichlessons is it today, Diarmuid?” Her tone is cold, as though her patience is stretched thin.

My brother constantly plans lessons for me, from anyone who will take me. Always to help me adjust to the royal court or to be closer to Finan. They are my escape and sanity.

“Harp lessons,” Diarmuid says with a straight face. “His grace Prince Finan has expressed an interest in having Keira play music for him.”

Both Fiona and Eliora bristle, their spines snapping straight. The other two ladies in wait become very interested in their needlework.

“Do you think you are the only one that Finan has taken to his bed?” Fiona hisses at me low enough that the queen cannot hear. This is not the first time she has thrown it in my face. “That he promised to be his queen?”

“Ever wondered what he was doing here in the capitol, while you were in your backwater hovel? Or who he was doing?” Eliora crackles a most undignified laugh.

It should needle me. It should rip my heart in two. Not so long ago, the betrayal would have destroyed me.

But I don’t care.

My only reaction is the sheer fatigue that rolls through me, because I have to put these women in their place. They cannot talk to me like this when I am their princess, or their queen.

I raise an eyebrow at them. “That’s funny. I don’t see a ring on either of your fingers? Just mine then? Perhaps the promises he told you were lies to naive, overwilling little girls, while he waited for his true bride to arrive.”

They both recoil as though slapped.

“Maybe he’ll keep his lovers after he is married,” Fiona mutters, trying to claw any victory over me.

I exhale, glance at the queen to make sure she still cannot hear the exchange, then turn back to both women. “Envisioning yourself having his royal bastards are you? I wonder what would happen to them on the next ascension?”

I hate the woman I have be to survive here.

Both Fiona and Eliora become absorbed in their embroidery again, but there is a faint smile on Nadia’s face at their put down.

The queen returns, laying out her skirts perfectly as she takes a seat on the couch, then combing her fingers through her blond hair. Her cool blue eyes capture mine. “Everyone out. I would have a private word with Keira.” She doesn’t even look at the other ladies as they scurry out.

I glance over at Diarmuid, still standing just inside the door, but he only raises his eyebrows and shrugs.

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