Page 161 of Bride of the Fae Prince

“Well, you’re that too. But human men are sometimes handsome, and yet I have never seen one that I also thought was beautiful. Unlike you. There is this elegance to the features of your face that just makes you . . . well, beautiful!”

“Quit talking about my face and let me kiss yours,” I reply, then claim her soft, sweet lips before she has another chance to protest.

This will not be our last kiss,I vow to myself as I pull away, take her hand, and lead her with a pounding heart out of the safety of our chambers, toward the beginning of the Lulythinar Masquerade.

Chapter 61

The Princess

The palace greens area dazzling array of costumed fae dancing in concentric circles under every tree. Lumiral globes float through the air like tiny glowing stars, illuminating the vast spreads of food on overflowing tables and a dizzying number of sloshing goblets.

I turn away from the pockets of debauchery happening in the shadows as the full moon rises overhead. Instead, I watch the beautiful dances, the elaborate costumes on display, the children running around with friends and pets. One magnificent fae is dressed like a weeping willow, with long trailing leaves and a twisted trunk. Another is sea green, like a foamy ocean, with white hair and bright green-blue eyes. Ash isn’t wearing a costume or a mask, and even my pouting mouth couldn’t make him change his mind on that front.

Not that I truly mind. I like being able to see his beautiful face.

Faradir sits on his temporary throne—the one that is brought for him for these outdoor celebrations. His long golden hair falls over one shoulder, and he wears a new crown of shootingsunbeams. His mask is made of living fire that licks around his eyes, always burning but never devouring.

He finds us right away. I hold his gaze for a moment, then find something more interesting to give my attention to. I don’t have to be concerned about him just yet, and I intend to enjoy the celebration with my husband.

Two long fangs from a dripping wolf’s maw snap in my face. I flinch, stumbling backward into Ash, even though only a second later, I realize it’s just a mask. Still, my heart thumps wildly in my chest, and I become aware of the weight of curiosity pressing into me from all sides.

Do I have a reputation now, having come back from two supposed poisonings? Perhaps they think Ash is crazy to bring me here at all. Perhaps they believe me truly resurrected, not believing the High King’s proclamation last night that I wasn’t dead.

Children stare at me openly, and I could swear some of them do so in adoration. They don’t flinch when a tall fae with a mask of writhing tentacles passes between them. One of those tentacles reaches for my face, only to withdraw at Ash’s fierce glare.

“It seems you have become a legend,” my husband murmurs to me.

“I think I liked it better when they ignored me,” I reply with an uneasy chuckle.

But then the singing starts, and every thought in my brain is suddenly gone.

At first, I’m not sure where it is coming from—it is so all-encompassing, so all-surrounding. Until I realize it is coming fromeveryone, even Ash beside me.

The dancing has stopped. The eating, the drinking, the conversation, even the debauchery—all of it stops. Instead, everyperson sings, tilting their head back toward the sky, toward the moon climbing its way to its zenith.

The song washes over me, sung in words I do not know or understand, but the meaning of which transcends language. It is light, ethereal, but even as I listen, it deepens, broadens, until I can do nothing but look up at the sky with tears streaming down my cheeks.

I look at Ash, find him looking at me with warm, glittering eyes. He bends down to my ear, whispers softly enough not to disturb the soaring music around us.

“It is a song of thanksgiving. Gratitude that no matter what these last hundred years held, that we are still here, that the moon still rises, that the tides still come and go.”

“I know,” I whisper back, closing my eyes and letting the glory of the song sweep through me. I’ve always known fae music held magic, magic that could turn me foolish and make me forget my own name. Magic that could make me a slave.

And yet, part of me wonders if that is not as terrible as I once believed it to be. Perhaps it is a thing that can be used for evil. But in this moment? I see how it can be so soul-transcendingly good.

“Come with me,” Ash says.

He takes my hand, leads me quietly through the throngs of singing people. I follow gladly, even when the farther he leads me, the quieter the music gets. We reach a cliff that overlooks the sea, and Ash bids me look over the climbing vines to the reflective water below.

“It’s beautiful,” I whisper.

He only smirks. “Wait a moment.”

I wait, listening to the strains of music as stars glitter across the waves breaking against the rocky shore. Then, suddenly, at the swell of the music, the waves surge upright. I gasp, my hands landing on the railing and holding tight as the water splits inhalf. It starts at the shore, peeling back like two curtains, water reaching as high as the face of the cliff.

“What is happening?” I cry.

“It happens every Lulythinar, so the people of the sea can sing too.”

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