Page 17 of The Forbidden Fae King

Father stiffens at the suggestion. “Caitlin will make her own choice in life,especiallyif she returns with a magical pregnancy.”

There are undercurrents here that I don’t understand. I hardly hear the rest of their exchange.

Finan’s shoulders slump as he returns to his seat and frowns deeply. He becomes lost in a sight across the great hall, and his dark mood slowly clears. Those eyes light up again in an expression he usually reserves for me, as though he is appraising a fine work of art.

I double-take when I realize the subject of his attention.

Caitlin dances a fast-paced gig with the captain of the guard. The curls of her bright auburn hair bounce with each leap and her cheeks are flushed prettily. I turn to Finan as he leans back in his chair, a half-smile on his face.

I need to lure him back with sweet nothings or dirty promises. To grasp his attention by dragging him out of the ballroom to a dark, private part of the keep and taking him again. To blow his mind so that when he leaves for the capital, I will be the only woman he will think about.

But I just don’t want to.

I shouldn’t have to work so hard. To remind him it is me he wants every few hours. It is exhausting. Maybe it is different because he is a prince and his options are vast. Maybe it is my own insecurities at play and there is nothing abnormal about a man enjoying a glance at another woman.

My head spins, thoughts and convictions slam from one direction to another.

It's okay. It’s very much not okay.

The room closes in on me. I struggle to draw in each breath. The voices around me are indistinct roars, so loud they bounce around inside my head, but I cannot make out a single word over the rushing of blood in my ears.

I need to get out.

Finan and King Willard talk over the top of my head.

I stand so fast my chair clatters to the ground, and it draws the attention of everyone at the table.

“Keira, sit down, sweetheart. Have more wine.” Finan gives me his most dazzling smile, but it doesn’t work on me, not tonight.

“I have a headache.” I say. “I’m going to retire early.”

He nods, patting me on the arm, then returns to his conversation with his father on racing horses.

I take a single wobbly step away from the table, and then another, before a strong arm wraps around my waist. “A migraine?” my father whispers in my ear, as he leads me out of the room.

“Yes. I feel overwhelmed,” I utter.

He leads me through the foyer of the ballroom and into an empty sitting room. A fire whooshes to life in the fireplace and multiple orbs materialize and rise to the ceiling, all without my father taking his attention off me. He guides me to a couch.

I take a long breath in, hold it, then release one out in a drag. Each breath is slower than the last. I focus my attention on them, on easing the pounding of my heart. Bit by bit, I release the tension in my muscles. Caitlin taught me how to take control of my body and release anxiety. It is a battlefield technique, but also an essential one for life.

“How are you feeling?” Concerns etches my father’s features. There are furrows on his forehead and subtle crow’s feet at his eyes, but he hardly looks old enough to be my father, more like he is in his mid-thirties rather than past sixty. The magic in his veins will extend his life beyond a common person’s. He has always said it is why he married late in life.

“How can I be queen, if I cannot manage a simple feast?” I hold back my tears, but not because I am afraid to cry in front of him.

He sighs. “You will not go to that court alone. Diarmuid will be your druid adviser and he will always be at your side. It is what he has been training for. You will learn, I have complete faith in it. You have a large, open heart and a tremendous capacity for empathy. It means you are more vulnerable to getting hurt, especially in a royal court, but it will make you an excellent queen who will protect her people.”

A laugh escapes me. “How do you always know the right thing to say, to make me feel better?”

“It’s my job. I'm your father.” He tips his head at me. “Besides, King Willard is callous enough to make a grown man cry.” He gives me asearching stare. “You just say the word Keira, and you won’t have to marry him. It will always be your choice.”

Calls suddenly erupt from down the corridor, with gasps and shouts and loud applause.

“The firelight show has started.” My father looks over his shoulder to the doorway. “I better go. They need my contribution to get the colors intense enough. Will you be okay, or should I send in your mother?”

“I’m okay, thanks. I might spend a couple of hours in the library to unwind.”

I walk through the dimly lit, winding corridors until I leave the chaos of voices and music far behind. The familiar calm and quiet of the library is a balm to my soul. The orange glow of the firelight is like a waiting embrace.

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