Page 8 of Fae Exile

After the queen took a sip, red glistened like blood across her already crimson lips.

I hoped it was elderberry wine and not what it looked like.

The queen took another taste, then held her glass out to the side. Another goblin materialized to receive it from her before fading away.

She tipped her head this way and that, openly considering me. All the many years of grueling training as a warrior were serving me now. I didn’t so much as twitch beneath her scrutiny. I didn’t draw my sword when all I wanted to do was track its point as it sliced across her milky white throat, her blood staining the diamond necklace that dipped beneath it.

“How many of you fantasize about the pretty drake?” the queen asked, eyes boring into mine as if daring me to protest, to react.

I bit the inside of my cheeks and held steady. The music became impossibly smokier, lusher, more exotic as it wove around us. The ladies surrounding the queen tilted in my direction. Malina fanned herself some more.

Each of the women, even Millicent, who wasn’t a crown princess hopeful, muttered something in the affirmative, except for Octavia Lily Rose, whose eyes were wide and slightlyhorrified. The queen would gobble up her naïveté for dessert and lick her lips afterward.

“Then perhaps I shall do something about it,” the queen murmured. “No need to wait.”

Eliana scanned the length of me before inching forward. “My queen, when will the Nuptialis Probatio begin? Does Her Majesty yet know?”

The queen’s response was terse. “Soon, Eliana.”

Eliana slunk backward, sliding partially behind Malina.

The queen pursed her lips, tapped the toe of her diamond-studded heeled shoes, and reached out her hand. Moments later, a goblin appeared once more with her refreshment on a tray above his head.

She drank, swallowed slowly, returned the glass, and only then answered: “Just as soon as my preferred announcer Azariah is capable, the Nuptialis Probatio will begin.”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” replied the women, except for Octavia, who’d begun casting desperate looks at her twin.

“Now,” the queen said sharply, “I’m feeling generous tonight.” She didn’t sound it. “Drake Rush Vega will put on a private show for us.”

My stomach bottomed out as I kept wholly motionless. I didn’t so much as breathe or blink while I waited to master my emotions.

“Oooh,” squealed Malina as she tucked away her fan to clap softly along with the undulating, entwining beat of the music.

“Thank you, my queen,” added Natania. “You are ever so generous with us.” The woman had learned well from her mother, Dayana.

“How exciting,” Coretta added, as if I needed another reason to quake in my boots.

“Guards,” the queen called out, and two came running in a clanking of weapons along their belts. “I will retire to mysitting room with Drake Rush Vega and my ladies. See that the festivities continue until my return.”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” they answered instantly. One asked, “Which of us shall protect you?”

“I need only Ivar and Braque. The rest of you can remain outside my chambers.”

The guards nodded, and she rose, saying, “We’ll take the back hall.”

As if she’d rung a bell to summon them, Ivar and Braque rushed in from either side of the dais, hurrying to flank her. Then, in a rustle of stiff skirts and a tinkling of precious gems, the queen turned and aimed for the passageway that was more concealed tunnel than hallway, the one the king had once ordered me to carry Elowyn into to protect her.

“Your Highness, Your Highness,” called a voice from behind us. As one unit, the women, Ivar, and Braque spun.

It was a guard, red-faced and out of breath.

“Yes? What is it?” she snapped, not bothering to mask her annoyance at the interruption.

“There’s been a development in the murder of the prince.”

In a circle directly around us, conversations hushed.

“What kind of development?” the queen asked, her question sharp as a blade.

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