Page 111 of Bride of the Fae Prince

Give up.

Keep fighting.

A growl rumbling in my throat, I push off the doorframe, march to the desk that Edvear had moved back here while we were gone, and pull out a fresh sheet of parchment. Rahk’s compromised loyalty is going to cost me greatly.

Neverseen King,I write.I’d like to call in my favor.

I pause, my pen suspended in the air a few millimeters above the paper. Then, with a determined set of my jaw, I keep writing.

I want you to give my wife safe passage out of Faerieland to Orawyth.

Chapter 39

The Princess

Ash is withdrawn whenwe leave for the banquet. I ask if he has any stunts planned for tonight; he sighs and tells me no, but that doesn’t mean there won’t be any. It’s not a lie.

I take his arm when he offers it, and he guides me to the banquet hall. I follow the path, saying the directions in my head before each turn, quizzing myself to make sure I have it memorized. To my surprise, I get it all correct.

One step toward not being lost in a palace full of people who want to kill me.

Rahk’s doorway is two hallways down, three doors on the left. Shockingly close. Perhaps that was why he was there to rescue me the night Ash was poisoned. I tuck away Ash’s concern about Rahk, about what the High King might make him do.

I want to reach out to Ash, to comfort him, to encourage him, but I’m so deeply entrenched in my own worry. What if the High King doesn’t take the bargain? How then are we to stop tomorrow’s slaughter?

All of it seems impossible. These political machinations make me want to strangle everyone involved. Right now, it feels like my only friend and ally is lost to our own hopeless predicament. And I have no strength left to pull him out.

Plus, I haven’t forgiven him yet for the throne room.

The doors open, and I’m overwhelmed by a wave of exhaustion. My limbs are weaker than normal. Am I still recovering from my illness? Probably. The stress of today has been too much on my healing body.

I don’t know how I’m going to get through this banquet when only a few minutes in the throne room zapped my strength. Especially because therewillbe stunts, maneuvers, games. It wouldn’t be Ash and the High King if there weren’t.

I’m half expecting another trick like before, but when Ash guides me into the banquet hall, it’s not full of women. It’s a diverse group of fae, male and female, with various complexions ranging from luminous gold to cobalt blue. Murmurs of our titles rise from the gathering, but Ash doesn’t answer. I try not to stare at the radiant wings attached to a female fae—Oleria—sitting beside one of the two empty chairs at the head of the table.

Two empty chairs.

My sudden burst of optimism is immediately quelled. The High King hasn’t arrived yet. So, of course, one chair belongs to him, and the other to Ash. I glance up at him, trying to read him for my cues.

A darkly sardonic smirk twists his face, responding to this new situation, like it is a fresh game to play. Then, just like last time, he takes me to his open seat. Unlike last time, he goes to the head seat, grabs the back of it, drags it out, and gestures at it. And looks expectantly at me.

The blood drains from my face.

The quiet murmur of conversation around the table goes quiet.

I can’t—I can’t sit in the High King’s chair! That is just asking to be murdered. I grip my skirts in both hands and shake my head.

Ash’s gaze darkens, his jaw flexing. “Princess Stella,” he says, not at all kindly. “Sit.”

I have two choices, it seems. Neither of them good. I can set my mouth in a stubborn line and refuse, thus causing a public scene that will no doubt have the fae talking about how Ash cannot control hispet. Or I can do what he says, choose to trust him—that he isn’t meaninglessly throwing me to my own death.

I don’t understand all these moves of his, but I understand enough. This is spite. Yet again.

So much spite.So much hatred.

If Ash isn’t careful, he will become just like his father. He isn’t there yet, but he is on the very same road. I’m not skilled in clever subterfuge or these tricky bargains, but my intuition tells me that sitting in that chair is the wrong move. It’ll enrage the High King, and I’m beginning to think that Ash doesn’t always have something he’s trying to accomplish by enraging him.

In this instance, we need him to accept Ash’s bargain.

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