Page 71 of Fae Crown

The females faceplanted into their bowls of creamed purple-turtle soup, upsetting the myriad utensils, goblets, and platters the princess-hopefuls were meant to be revealing mastery of.

The queen hadn’t so much as flinched as their heads slammed onto the table, soup splattering in every direction, while the remaining females shrieked. Nor had the queen bothered explaining the cause of their sudden demise, not even to ruminate upon it. Not even to lob false accusations, or perhaps to praise the conniving perpetrator for their wily ways.

I suspected a fast-acting poison. Maybe one of Braque’s alchemical potions. The females were dead within instants.

The queen flicked a hand in the air and a horde of goblins instantly hustled over to remove the bodies while she finished her soup. No one else dared touch theirs, even though it was a luxurious delicacy not to be wasted, most especially in the current disapprovingcompany. The turtles’ shells only striated with the highly desired purple veins after two centuries of life.

For once, the contestants revealed a healthy dose of common sense. Appearances suggested the goblins had been anticipating such a cleanup.

Seven members of Embermere’s nobility had lost their lives thus far in the Nuptialis Probatio. Though I’d cared for none of them, their deaths haunted me as profoundly as my sister’s. They were an unwanted reminder of how easily the queen killed. Of how swiftly someone I did care for might be yanked away from me.

Of how much danger Elowyn was in.

Since Hiro, Ry, and West had told me she was my mate, I had fought to conjure up the moment when I’d first realized I’d been gifted one of the most precious blessings in existence, one I hadn’t dared hope for. I’d agonized in my attempts to recall how it must have felt.

But it, too, had been robbed of me.

Regardless, I understood she must be the piece of me that was missing, the phantom ache I couldn’t shake. Despite the gaping hole in my memory that had excised every possible point of contact with her, I knew because of how Elowyn had looked at me when we were in the queen’s bed: as if she suffered my pain along with me.

That was what mates were supposed to do for each other.

And I was letting mine down.

There’d been no news of her, at least not that I’dreceived. The days clawed past while the queen persisted with the artifice of her trials, continuing to pretend they were impartial and actually revealed something other than her will. She made no mention of the search for Elowyn. It was naught but her increasing irritability that told me Ivar hadn’t yet located her. Perhaps Azariah had found the courage to mislead him.

None of my brothers had gotten word to me either, not even to tell me if they’d left the palace in search of her as I’d asked, openly defying the queen’s orders that no noble was allowed to leave court without her express permission.

Isolated as I was, there was no one for me to ask. No one willing to put their head on the line.

“I’ll need midrake to undress to complete the final steps,” Horst said.

I dragged my attention back to him as if I were deep underwater, swimming up to the surface. Blinking at him, I finally nodded and stood. I removed my tunic and sat again.

“The boots as well,” Horst prompted.

I kicked them off.

“The breeches.”

My jaw clenched. My nostrils flared so significantly I noticed their movement at the edge of my sight.

But I stood and removed my breeches.

Before I could sit again, in a voice that stung for its melancholy, Horst said, “The underpants too, midrake.”

Again, a stiffening jaw and nostrils. “What for?” I gritted out.

Horst swallowed, looked away, then stepped down his stool to retrieve more of the trufy feathers. He held them up to me in the palms of his hands for me to study.

Several of the colorful feathers were grouped together into two bundles, each capped in a metal ring. A third bunch clustered even more feathers together; their tips were lanced with ribbons.

I searched the goblin’s face for an explanation. He merely raised his hands so I could better examine the feathers.

“What’s the meaning of this?” I asked.

“They’re part of…” He sighed. “Her Majesty sent them for midrake’s adornment.”

“My ‘adornment.’”

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