Page 137 of Bride of the Fae Prince

I let out a loud, celebratory holler, then bite down on my fist to contain the pride bubbling over inside me.

I love this incredible girl I married.

Chapter 50

The Princess

Don’t let the glamourslip. Don’t let the glamour slip.

Don’t let it slip.

I struggle to keep my wits about me, to remember exactly where I am supposed to go in this labyrinth of a palace. If I let my focus drift, I might be startled out of my glamour or forget to maintain my scent.

I nearly let my scent slip in Princess Listhra’s quarters. I had to assert my glamour hard to disguise reaching into my pocket for the scrap of cloth with the human girl’s scent. Once I’d smelled it again, I was able to reassert it stronger.

But I almost let myself get caught.

Now it takes extra focus to hide my shaking hands and wobbly ankles with the princess’s confident, swaying hips.

Ash’s directions take me away from the quieter ends of the palace I usually frequent with him, and instead I return to a place I once never wanted to see again.

The palace greens.

Where the revelry was my first night in Faerie.

When people tried to kill me.

But I’m not vulnerable like I was then. I have my own protections. As my imitations of Listhra’s slippers make a loud, confident proclamation of my entry down the silver-streaked marble steps into the greens, eyes of all shapes and sizes turn to me.

My heart hammers, but I lift my chin.

I was not made to shrink. I was not made to be small and quiet. Fear made me that way.

I intend to be much more.

But this is still nerve-wracking.

Guards’ eyes follow me down the steps onto the lawn. Vines slither up trees and skitter out of my way as I march past the few tangled knots of fae that seem to be perpetually intoxicated, and I make my way to the more dignified group lounging in the shade of trees with sprawling displays of small foods and drinks arranged on blankets.

That is where I find Prince Rahk and Princess Pelarusa bickering with each other.

“I’m not going back to Nothril,” Pelarusa is saying when I approach. “I don’tcareif you think—”

Rahk shushes her immediately, his dark eyes sharpening on me as he somehow maintains his easy posture leaning against the trunk of a towering oak. “Princess Listhra.”

Panic suddenly flares across my vision. I’ve observed the fae custom of greeting everyone by their title upon entering a room . . . but does that same formality extend to the outdoors? Am I supposed to greet everyone who lounges out here now? The random buck-horned fae on the other side of the burbling stream? What about his lover napping in his arms? There must be several dozen at least, many of whom seem to be titled. All of whom I do not know, save the two before me.

“Prince Rahk, Princess Pelarusa,” I say, glamouring my voice like Listhra’s sing-song tones. I hope none of my sudden fear comes through the glamour.

“Get sick of your party?” Pelarusa snaps.

So maybe theydon’tdo the addresses outside. I contain my sigh of relief.

But confusion quickly follows the relief. Was Pelarusa not invited to Listhra’s afternoon tea? What in the world am I supposed to do with this?

“Did my invitation not arrive?” I say, hoping it doesn’t come out too squeaky. At the last minute, I decide I should be playing at my own offense. I let one eyebrow lowerjust slightlyand pair it with one of Listhra’s wretched smiles. “I’m not used to my invitations being ignored.”

“I received nothing.” Pelarusa flips her snow-white hair over her shoulder, fixing her black eyes on me in a glare.

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