Page 70 of Fae Crown

He startled, meeting my eyes in the mirror at last. His brow was arched in alarm.

“Sorry,” I grumbled. “It’s not you.”

It was the queen, alwaysher, and the evidence that she was making me her plaything. Ordering me dressed how she wanted, to debase me however she wished.

“Not the ears,” I told him without explanation.

There wasn’t reason to risk sharing my true thoughts here in my temporary room where the queen had likely planted her usual spying spells—or Braque’s, probably. Unlike when I’d spoken with my brothers, Horst wasn’t an ally. He was merely another of the queen’s many prisoners.

“Of course, midrake,” the goblin said easily, his deft fingers twisting my hair in such a way that the pointed tips of my ears remained hidden.

It was a silly insistence, really, when I knew whatthe robe meant. It wasn’t as if the queen had been subtle. She intended to have me in her rooms again tonight, naked but for the robe.

Revealing the tips of my ears should have been the least of my worries. And yet … they weren’t. They were one small thing that might remain mine while I exposed the rest of myself for herentertainment.

To avoid his reaction, I gazed out the window, so high up in the palace I would have been able to see beyond the boundaries of the royal city had it been daytime. As it was, the night was dark, too cloudy for strong moonlight.

“Do you know what Her Majesty intends for me this night?” I eventually asked.

When the goblin delayed, I forced myself to glance in the mirror. His throat was bobbing repeatedly along the column of his thin, lined neck.

“It’s alright,” I offered gently though the statement was ludicrous. Nothing was even remotely close to alright. “Just tell me.”

His throat jerked again.

“I’d rather know and go in prepared than not,” I added.

My supply of olvidian was depleted. I’d naïvely assumed the queen would grow bored with her torment of me sooner.

Horst cleared his throat in a deep rustle. “I … believe Her Majesty has had enough of the dancing…”

My blood seemed to chill inside my veins. My chest stilled, trapping a breath.

“I believe she intends to … join with midrake tonight,” he articulated carefully, likely as aware of our potential hidden audience as I was.

Unseeing, I stared into the mirror—until all I could see was myself and the person the queen was forcing me to become.

I jerked my stare back to the window. “Cover the mirror.”

The goblin’s fingers stopped moving across my head. “Excuse me, midrake?”

“Drape something over it. I don’t want to see myself.”

Not right now. Not like this. Not feeling how much I was letting myself down. How much I was betraying the mate I had but couldn’t remember.

After a mantle concealed my reflection, the goblin’s hand landed on my shoulder for a moment so brief I turned to confirm it was there at all.

Horst lifted it and resumed his task. “I’m very sorry.” His voice was deeper than usual, gruffer.

I studied his face. His thin lips were pressed into a sad, mournful smile. The stringy trail of hair that hung in a braid from his chin drooped.

Again, he cleared his throat. “Her Majesty wishes to celebrate the end of the second event of the Nuptialis Probatio. Only two more events remain before midrake will move on to the Regius Probatio.”

He hesitated as if to add,Along with the female winner, the future princess and your bride, but didn’t.

He would remember I had a mate that wasn’t anyof the remaining contestants of the trials even if I’d been spelled to forget.

I faced forward, staring blankly at the coarsely woven threads of the black mantle. The queen didn’t need official reason to host any sort of festivity—she’d proven that many times over. But the second event had indeed finished earlier that day. The queen had devised a series of challenges concerning etiquette and social practices at court that had seemed so inconsequential I’d barely paid attention—until five contestants died.

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