Page 138 of Bride of the Fae Prince

Rahk, ever cool and collected, simply studies the two of us. Whenever his gaze settles on me, I feel as though he can see straight through my disguise. Just to be extra careful, I reassert my scent. I try not to let his unnerving study undo me.

Ash said it was important Rahk didn’t discover who I was, in case he is under orders to kill me.

“It sounds like one of my servants might be in need of a littlelesson,” I say lightly, laughing, even though the words make me sick. I need to end this and get out of here before I do something like throw up and betray my humanity.

“You can sulk here with your brother if you like,” I say, fluttering my glamoured wings. “Or you can come join us in half an hour. Up to you.”

And then I do the main thing I was sent here to do. I take a tiny, wrapped parcel with a sealed note from my pocket and reach forward like Ash taught me, placing my hand and the hidden gift on Rahk’s forearm.

“It’s always good to see you, Prince Rahk.” I give him my best Listhra smile and wait for him to place his hand over mine, covering the gift and accepting it. I pull my hand away, give a wink—just like Ash instructed—and all but flee the scene.

Don’t let your glamour slip,I beg myself as I hurry back the way I came, back through those terrifying armed guards, back through dozens of prying eyes, and into the palace.Don’t let it slip.

Don’t. Let. It. Slip.

I want to run, to release my pent-up adrenaline. But the point of all of this was to be seen, and I can still mess this up terribly.

My nerves are through the roof when I return to Listhra’s chambers, the women’s laughter ringing in my ears as I clear the empty tea set. I barely remember to glamour myself into Listhra’s terrified servant girl. I feel my scent slipping, but my hands are occupied with the tray I carry, so I can do nothing but try to reassert it by memory and scramble a little faster out of the room. Finally, I return the tray to the kitchen, glamour myself back as one of Ash’s servants, and hurry as fast as I dare home.

At some point, I become aware of footsteps behind me, almost drowned out by my pounding heartbeat—but not quite.

When I walk faster, the footsteps speed up. Panic floods me to my toes, and not even the familiar winged marble statue—indicating how close I am to home—can ease my terror.

I’m going to be the next servant the High King kills or blinds in front of Ash,I realize with a sickening sense of dread. Maybe the High King heard one of Ash’s servants was out and decided to snatch me up for his son’s next punishment.

Oh heavens.

I break into a run. I cling to my glamours as I do so, running as hard and fast as I can as the steps behind me turn to a pounding rhythm.

I just have to get to—

“It’s a good thing you’re running after dallying so long, by the Great Kings!” comes Ash’s sudden rebuke. “I should have you flogged!”

I barely keep myself from running straight into his chest. He catches me by the shoulders, stopping me as I gasp for air. I nearly weep in relief and throw my arms around him, but he shoves me behind him quickly and growls, “Get out of my sight before I lose my patience with you. You left Edvear to handle the silver all by himself. Don’t make me lower your wages.”

Still gasping for breath, I gladly do exactly as he says, stumbling past him into the door that Edvear opens for me. He pulls me inside just as I hear Ash say to someone, “Sorry you had to see that.”

Edvear hands me a glass of water, which I guzzle down between panting for air. My glamours melt away—and it’s a relief to just be myself. To be safe as myself.

Ash shuts the door behind himself, and the next instant he has me by the shoulders again. “Are you alright?”

I press a hand to my heaving chest. “Who was that?”

“Someone from the High King.” Ash’s voice is grim. “You were clever to run and keep up your glamours.”

Then he crushes me to his chest.

“I think I did everything properly,” I manage between gasps. “I gave Rahk the gift and the letter. And my sleight of hand was definitely not clean.”

“You good, good, clever girl,” Ash says, holding me tighter. He cups the back of my head with one hand, presses a kiss to my temple. “You were brilliant. You’ve perfectly set everything up. Now all we have to do is sit back and watch the High King begin digging his own grave, starting tonight.”

There is a newspring to Ash’s step when we walk to the High King’s banquet that night. He picked tonight’s dress: a gown of a light sapling green that clings to my hips and trails behind me in a long, glittering train. A layer of shimmering green leaves and tiny red roses covers the bodice, sweeping from my shoulder to my hip and spraying out along the train. My hair is bound up elaborately on the crown of my head, with falling curls arranged with threading little vines. A silver tiara studded with rubies rests on my head.

When I looked in the mirror, I thought I looked like a woodland fairy queen. When Ash looked at me, a flush crept over his ears and cheeks, but a second later his gaze seemed to snag on my bare throat. As though seeing just how breakable I am.

Then he met my eyes and smiled. “You are exquisite, my darling.”

Now my hand is tucked in his elbow as he guides me through the palace as though he is already the High King, and I, his queen. It occurs to me that while he often walked this way, with a possessive and authoritative stride, the difference is that now, it’s true. It’s not a pretense.

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