Page 77 of Bride of the Fae Prince

“Then I will come.” She pushes aside the blankets, swinging her legs and long skirt over the edge of the bed. She stands, and my throat goes dry as she takes the three steps separating us, tilting her face up toward mine.

I stare down at her.Kiss her,every fiber of my awareness begs. I swallow, struggling to keep my glamour in place as she gives me a coy little smile.

“If it’s dangerous, you’ll just have to protect me,” she says.

I watch her lips form the words, hardly hearing them over the sudden roaring in my ears.Kiss her. Kiss her. Kiss her.

That’s when it clicks—what is different about her.

She’s not stuttering. Not even slightly.

Which means . . .

She’s not afraid.

Something shifted after our conversation in the entry hall. I’m not sure what it is, only that there’s no denying it.Thisis what I saw during our first dance back in Aursailles, that spark of something buried deep inside her. It burns brighter now, and it is undeniably compelling.

She makes to walk past me, to leave her room. My self-control breaks with a resounding snap. My hand darts out and I catch her around the waist. She gives a small, surprised yelp, but doesn’t resist when I pull her back against my chest.

I love the feel of her.

Swiftly, hardly trusting myself if I linger too much, I sweep her tangled hair to one side and bend down, pressing my lips to the gray fabric covering her shoulder. Her breath catches, her hands flying to grip the arm I have around her waist. I don’t want to let her go. But I’ll do something I regret if I don’t.

I cannot help indulging in a quick squeeze to bring her closer, one more inhale of her sweet scent. Then I let go, and she scampers out of the door. The little bit of her face that I catch before she’s beyond my range of vision is bright red.

Perhaps I’d chuckle if I didn’t feel so bereft.

Chapter 29

The Princess

The dress the tailordropped off for me is . . .well. . . the most scandalous thing I’ve ever laid eyes on. Never in my wildest dreams would I have evenconsideredwearing something so . . . so . . .!

I stare in the bathing chamber mirror, hardly daring to meet my own embarrassed gaze. I can’t go anywhere like this! It’s not as though I can keep my hands plastered over my exposed chest. Perhaps the lower neckline could be tolerated—it’s notthatlow, after all—if my legs weren’t exposed to their knees! It doesn’tmatterthat the dress technically reaches the floor. If it’s translucent material, it’s utterly indecent. I can hardly notice the beauty of the shimmering pearlescent blue gown, the color of a snowflake, with its glittering train. The colored fabric of the bodice and hips gives way to translucent material around my knees and continues all the way to my slippers. Both of my calves are on complete display! And if that wasn’t enough, there is aslitrunning halfway up the skirt.

Hylath burbles irritably behind me, her eyes bobbling all over the place as she styles my hair in an elaborate updo that makes my neck look long and slender. In a fae mirror, I find myself thinking how very choke-able I look with my hair this way.

Do I really want to get used to this place and all the horrifying thoughts it brings?

“Is she almost ready?” comes a masculine voice from the other side of the door.

Ash’s familiar timbres send a scalding line of panic down the length of my body. I barely restrain myself from hopping up and hiding my scandalous appearance.

Hylath makes a chorus of noises in response. Ash huffs. I brace myself, expecting him to enter at any moment. He doesn’t, which must mean Hylath told him I wasn’t ready yet. She weaves sparkling beads and strands of pearls into my hair. It’s quite lovely, and if I wasn’t so self-conscious about the dress, I might enjoy feeling beautiful.

“Grrrbaurgh!” says Hylath, clapping her hands and stepping back.

I’m done, then?

I swallow, plucking nervously at the neckline. It’s not that low, right? I’m merely not used to havinganythingon display. I can handle this. No one will look twice at me, or my exposed legs. That’s what they do here—they drape a piece of gauzy fabric around their body that only barely covers the essentials. What I’m wearing is quite demure.

I can’t make myself believe it.

It’s so much leg! How could showing more than an ankle ever be appropriate in a public setting?

Another knock at the door jolts me. “Stella? Are you ready?”

“Oh!” I breathe. He’s going to see how self-conscious I am! After that unexpected shoulder kiss not that long ago, I feel especially exposed. “You can do this,” I mutter softly, hopingHylath doesn’t have augmented hearing like the high fae. “You can do this. You’re not afraid, remember?”

---