Page 12 of Fae Crown

Fuck, they were right. I was out of control.

“You’re a warrior, right?” West said. “The only female warrior I’ve ever known,” he added with a tinge of awe that never seemed to disappear whenever anyone contemplated a woman actually knowing how to fight.

Like we needed dicks to hone our bodies as weapons…

“You’re a wounded wolf,” West went on, and I snapped my stare to his.

My lips pursed in annoyance. My brow arched in a sarcasticreally?“A wounded wolf?”

“Yes, El, yes. Every time you let on as to how much all these”— he flicked a look ahead, noticed the women closest to us, mere feet away, unabashedly craning their necks to hear us better, and frowned at them. He stalked several feet back down the hall and, with a flip of his head, urged me to join him.

Conversation at the head of the line grew louder, as if we were about to be granted entrance. I glanced fromthe doors to West, then hurried toward him. Ryder followed.

West didn’t delay in finishing what he was saying. “Every time you let these fucking cunts see how much they’re getting to you, it’s like you’re letting them scent your blood like you’re sliced open and bleeding. You’re not gonna bleed out, but you’re growing weaker, and fast. You just need to make it back to your den without anyone attacking you and you’ll be fine.”

The metaphor was a bit roundabout, and not at all how Zako would have done it, but I was following.

“No matter what, you can’t show them your vulnerabilities. You can’t show them that, even though you’re usually the predator, you’re currently the prey. A few of them might even join up to take you the fuck down. And, El? You can’t let them. No matter what, you can’t. Rush’ll gut us himself if we let anything happen to you.”

“I won’t let them take me out,” I immediately insisted, but I heard the roughness still there. Like I was barely keeping my shit together.

West and Ryder just stared at me, as if willing me to observe myself.

“I’m not an idiot,” I told them. “I am self-aware, you know. I hear what I sound like.”

“And so will every other nasty-ass bitch in that room with you,” West said, driving home his point.

For a moment, my eyes lost focus as I considered the two men. Finally, I nodded—mostly to myself.

“I’ll get it together,” I assured them—myself. “I will.”

Already, my tone was a bit softer, though not weak. No, never weak.

I could only portray strength. With all these eager females—and most especially with the queen.

“You—” Ryder started.

I cut him off, meeting his stare first, then West’s. “I’ve got this.”

“Remember,” West started, but a hush was falling across the others.

The same thin reed of a man, who usually announced each guest’s arrival at the Hall of Mirrors, cleared his throat with a dignifiedahem. Unlike the long tailcoats he wore for the nighttime parties, the hem of his suit jacket was cut in an uncommon arc that mimicked the bottom curve of his ribs. Its fabric was a subdued rose.

Accustomed to speaking above the din of revelry, “The Nuptialis Probatio Trials are about to begin,” he announced in a steady, strong voice. “As Her Majesty the Queen Talisa Zafira Tatiana has arranged an intimate affair for the opening event, only the contestants, and no one else, not even their servants, will be admitted to the Great Salon of Delicacies.”

Murmurs interrupted the hush until he spoke again.

“You’ll be admitted one at a time, and I’ll announce your arrival to Her Majesty. Once inside, you’ll takethe seat labeled with your name on it and await further instructions.”

I expected something else to follow. Perhaps a,Here we go!Or a,Ready or not, enter the salon at your own peril.

But the tall, gaunt man called out, “The Countess Natania Tally of Bendisantos.”

Natania, with hair coiled atop her head higher than anybody, walked forward with measured, slow steps, as if she were already a freaking bride, dramatically drawing out her approach of the groom.

Of course she was fucking first in line. The queen made no attempts to hide her preference for the daughter of the continually scheming Dowager Countess Dayana Tempest, who appeared to be part woman, part serpent, forever ready to influence any and all circumstances in her daughter’s favor.

A growl once more rumbled deep in my chest, drawing the startled glances of the two females directly ahead of me in line. I didn’t know either of them, nor had I noticed them at any of the queen’s endless litany of festivities. They must have only just arrived from the surrounding fae clans.

---