Page 69 of How to Keep a Fae

They give us an eyeballing, perhaps sensing the direction of my thoughts. The one on the right nods, “Bring the Fae with you. The king will see you now.”

“Fucking great,” I mutter under my breath.

August cuts me a glare and slips under the covering to collect Adaline

I didn’t want to leave her here alone anyway. We knew we’d have to report to Cecil and explain what had happened. I suppose it’s better that this all gets done together.

Also, I still don’t know how I feel about the king sendingher a fucking wooing gift. August does a better job than me of containing his feelings, but I get the impression he’s not happy about it either. That couch thing is fucking fancy. Why else would he be giving it to her, if not to score a point?

Also I feel a freakish level of strength, and I’m ready to fuck up anyone who interferes with our claiming of Adaline… which doesn’t make sense given we’ve been rutting Adaline non-stop for days. I should be fucking wasted.

August emerges, holding her small hand in his. Her nervous gaze settles all the crazy thoughts racing through my mind. I take her other hand, feeling instantly calm.

The guards eyeball our joined hands.

I smirk. It shows a lot of teeth.Look all you like, assholes.

“This way,” the right guard says. “The king will see you now.”

Adaline

I’m back in the king’s room again, only this time I’m not alone, but he is. There is no Chosen lurking in the corner, nor is the imperial present, whom I now know to be August’s father.

I’m still coming to terms with that news. I have a lot of questions. Male imperials are very rare.

And what does that mean for August?

The door to the king’s study clicks shut as a bowing servant leaves, snapping me back to the present with a jolt.

The king sits on a high-backed leather chair at an imposing desk, wearing a blood-red silk jacket embroidered in blue. We are not offered a seat as he studies us.

The clock ticking over the cold mantle to his right is theonly intrusion into the silence. On the left is a leaded window that looks over the highest battlements of Sanctum.

I have never seen the city from above. It looks austere and imposing.

“You have mated,” the king says, a little unnecessarily.

“We have,” August confirms, his voice calm and clear.

This time, no glamor is used on me, and everything is disconcertingly clear. My fingers squeeze over my mates’ large and calloused hands—they squeeze lightly back and the touch comforts me.

The king’s gaze dips down to that point of connection. He rubs his fingers over his beard absently. “Both of you?”

“Aye, both of us,” Jayga says, a note of challenge in his voice.

The king smiles. I see his fangs, reminding me that he, like all males, has been changed to take blood. It would seem he is amused by this. “Well, it’s done now,” he says at length. “It is not our place to interfere with fate.”

The words prick at a memory. They are the words the chosen said after he refused Aurelius’ request to sanction.

My heart skips a beat in my chest. “Are you going to punish us?” I blurt out.

Maybe it wasn’t wholly the glamor responsible for my boldness the last time I was here.

“Us?” The king arches one brow. “Did you like your couch? I’m not in the habit of gifting fae one day and punishing them the next.”

Jayga growls.

The king cuts him a glare.

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