Page 41 of Fae Crown

Rush’s chest seemed to deflate, a reaction I didn’t readily understand. “Just leave me alone.”

“No way. I?—”

The doors opened with a loud flourish, and the announcer, whom I’d last seen slashed and bloodied to within a few inches of his life, cleared his throat. His cuts had partially healed, but he still looked like he’d gone a few rounds with a dragonling with sharp claws and a lack of restraint.

“Her Majesty the Queen Talisa Zafira Tatiana of Embermere.”

Quickly, he stepped aside. The queen swept in with Ivar and Braque stalking behind her, at the edge of her gauzy train of sparkling sapphire blue that matched her equally sparkling dress. It was studded with gems along the line of her décolletage, drawing the eye to the plunging V of her bustier.

As if the dawn hadn’t delivered the death of two contestants, she beamed at us—apparently fucking delighted from her night of depravity, the cunt.

“Greetings to you all. I’m excited to begin our first event of the Nuptialis Probatio.”

Her attention traveled to Rush, to me, and then to everyone else.

Her incongruously chipper expression fell, settling into lines of abject sorrow.

What a crock of steaming dragonshit.

After a morose downward glance I hoped no one was stupid enough to believe, she peered at us again, her bright eyes shimmering with unshed tears.

“What a loss we’ve all suffered,” she said, and I harrumphed. Her stare blazed as it pinned an obvious warning on me before taking in her rapt audience once more.

In a voice that shook—the brazen artistry of this fucking woman!—she called out, “May their memories live forever. May their essences voyage to the Etherlands.”

When everyone, even Rush, parroted her empty words, my stomach sank.

“We’ll one day join them in the Etherlands,” she offered.

As many of the others agreed with somberayes andyeses, I breathed out an, “You fucking won’t.”

Ivar’s and Azariah’s stares snapped to me, the only ones seeming to have heard me. I’d barely mumbled the words, not in the mood to deal with any more of her shit right now—or to be tortured, for that matter. There were a lot of shades of not killing someone, and I didn’t feel like exploring the boundaries of what the magic of the Fae Heir Trials would and wouldn’t allow her.

With Ivar still looking like he was endeavoring to implode my brain within my skull, the queen sauntered across the room, hips swaying seductively. When she reached her open throne halfway through the space, she sat and crossed her legs, allowing the deep slit of her voluminous skirts to fall open, revealing long, smooth stretches of unblemished skin. As if we hadn’t gotten enough of her nudity during the previous night’sfestivities…

After Ivar and Braque settled to either side of her throne, a step behind it, she flicked a casual hand in Azariah’s direction.

The unisus about tripped over his own legs in his haste to heed her call. He trotted to a stop beside her throne, far enough away that she couldn’t easily lunge for him, and cleared his throat.

The soft hair of his beard swayed as he announced, “Female contestants of the Fae Heir Trials, welcome to the first event of the Nuptialis Probatio. Her MajestyOur Queen has determined that the first event will consist of a test of your abilities to correctly react to a series of fae and situations that will be similar to those you’re likely to encounter in the royal court of Embermere.”

Oh. Fuck.I was the least qualified to know how to handle practically anything in this court.

I looked at the queen. Her grin was wicked.That’s precisely the point, it told me.

“Her Majesty will judge you on the correctness of your responses,” Azariah went on, each word fueling the sense of unfairness and doom rapidly growing inside me.

“A crown princess will by necessity need to know how to properly carry herself in any of the circumstances the queen has designed for you. A most excellent first event by our queen.”

The odds were being stacked against me as I fought to win an honor that was, by right and Rush’s agreement, already mine.

The queen—the fucking asshole queen—knew it too. Of course she did. She knew much too much.

Her wicked grin spread until it exposed too-sharp teeth. They were tinged pink up by her gumline.

Blood.

Then she winked at me. Fucking winked at me.

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