Page 10 of Fae Crown

“If it means milady will allow me to get her dressed. We’re down to seventeen-and-a-half minutes, and that includes delivering her to the great salon.”

How her countdown could be so precise when there was no clock anywhere in my chambers, I had no idea. Maybe every goblin felt the closing of the queen’s deadlines like a noose tightening around their thin necks.

Already guiding Saffron to wrap around my back instead of my chest, I told her, “You can go on doing my makeup till he gets here.”

With a resolved nod, she scampered across the bedroom, through the antechamber, opened the door,urgently relayed the request to someone on the other side of it, and was back in front of me in mere seconds, brandishing an eyeshadow brush above her narrow shoulders as if it were an actual weapon.

In the royal court, where appearances were an important component of battle strategy, perhaps all the colorful artifice the little goblin insisted on brushing all over my face and décolletage was indeed a weapon.

Regardless, after a harried Hiroshi arrived to coax Saffron from my hold, and after the goblin shoved me into a dress designed for standing around looking pretty and absolutely nothing else—including deep breaths—when she wasn’t looking, I retrieved a dagger from my bedside table. It was the one I’d once pilfered from the asshole Dougal, my original abductor with enough condescending haughtiness to ensure he was memorable. I still owed him for ordering me taken, shot, and for slapping me. But if I somehow managed to overcome the trials’ no-kill order and slit the queen’s throat with his knife, then I’d call us even.

Dressed, primped, and outwardly ready to face the queen—though my intestines gurgled with my nerves—the she-goblin bustled me toward the door. I waved away her shooing hands, and turned toward Hiroshi. West and Ryder stood with him as the lavender-haired drake held Saffron propped on his hip, the man and dragon still hesitant with each other. Saffron craned his neck in my direction before extending his arms towardme.

“Four minutes,” the goblin hissed at me before tugging on my hand.

But I couldn’t leave Saffron like this. He wasn’t yet comfortable with the drake. And Hiroshi was gripping the little guy like they were strangers.

“We’ll be okay, Elowyn,” Hiroshi said with a reassuring smile. He bowed his forehead to Saffron and pointed the warm smile at him. “Won’t we, you magnificent youngling?”

When Saffron met his welcoming gaze, I slipped out the door—guard free—discovering West and Ryder trailing me, and the goblin behind them.

“How far to the great salon?” I asked over my shoulder as I began walking up the hallway.

“Five minutes,” said the goblin, her voice tight with panic.

I grimaced. “Very well, then.” Muttering under my breath, “Nothing like answering her every fucking beck and call,” I hitched up my skirts.

In high-heeled shoes that absolutely werenotmeant for running, I ran.

3.NOT IF I EAT THEM ALIVE FIRST

ELOWYN

According to the she-goblin and her internaldon’t-behead-meclock, we skidded to a halt outside the double doors to the Great Salon of Delicacies with an entire minute to spare. While I was busy catching my breath—no easy feat when the corset I wore felt at least two sizes too small and I’d stuffed a blade down into it—the goblin disappeared—there one moment, vanished the next. I had no idea where she’d gone—only that when goblins didn’t want to be seen, they wouldn’t be, thanks to the unique magic of their kind.

Careful to perch my hands elegantly atop the waist of my voluminous taffeta skirts, I attempted not to glower at the contestants in line ahead of me, most of whom glanced my way before pointedly turning their backs to me, as if I were scum stuck to the sole of their shoe, unworthy of their attention.

Then why’d you look, bitches?

I pretended not to be winded, not to be irritatedbeyond measure to be forced into this ridiculous competition in the first place, not to feel absolutelymurderoustoward every simpering woman in line ahead of me vying to win the hand ofmydrake.

He wasn’t up for grabs.

The man was mine.

As I was his.

My near tardiness placed me exactly last in the queue. I doubted this was accidental when it was the queen who was orchestrating the trial’s details.

Everyone else ahead of me had an air of bored impatience, as if they’d been standing around for a while. None of their chests heaved with labored breath. Their brows were powdered free of shine, unlike mine, beaded with sweat.

“I wonder how much noticetheywere given before they were expected to be here,” I muttered, mostly to myself, but Ryder and West flanked me. Their sharp gazes roved over the many females who peeked at them as often as they did me. I suspected at least some of the women were sizing up possible second-place prizes in the drakes, should they fail to become crown princess.

Which they would.

West leaned his head closer and whispered: “They got a lot more notice than you did, that’s for damn sure.”

Scowling, I counted the women. Many of them stood with female attendants, but it was easy enough to discern the competitors among them. Without fail, their hair was bigger, louder, brighter. The skirts oftheir dresses took up twice as much space. And their makeup was of thestop and starevariety.

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