Page 140 of Bride of the Fae Prince

Perhaps he sees something in me, too. I wear no glamours, so there is nothing I hide behind. Perhaps that is what he sees—that I am not a fool, not a puppet, but a force of will in my own right.

“Princess Stella,” he says, his black eyes fading to blue once more and a smile stretching across his teeth.

I turn away and look at the fae across from me in a slight that is not at all diplomatic and probably petty. But since I’m not a fae,I don’t have to address this monster.So I will not.

The woman across from me is a contrast to the other fae present. She is the only one to show signs of aging, with fine lines around her eyes and streaks of gray in her light brown hair. She’s beautiful, but there is no light in her eyes, no strength in her shoulders.

The High King’s wife. His new queen—the one he married after killing Ash’s mother. I haven’t seen her since the night Ash presented me to the High King. Which, looking at her now, doesn’t surprise me, though it does grieve me.

I hope Vivienne, Jacquelle, and Yvonne all fair better than her in their marriages.

“Would you like anything to drink?” Ash asks me suddenly, holding a vial of something that sloshes like water.

My throat has gone very, very dry, so I nod. Everyone else at the table is drinking a golden liquid in sparkling goblets, but Ash sends my goblet back and fills a new one with something that is still golden, but translucent.

I take a sip, then almost burst, “Oh!” in surprise. It’s apple juice. Something familiar and safe for me to drink.

He smiles at my pleasure.

“So, Prince Rahk,” says the High King suddenly, turning his attention on the silent prince sitting beside his wife. “I hear we are to congratulate you on a forthcoming engagement to Princess Listhra.”

Rahk, who has always been cool and collected in my presence, nearly chokes on his drink. He sets it down abruptly, presses one of the table’s scarlet napkins to his mouth, and swallows hard. Then, without a glance to the princess in question, he looks straight at Ash, then at me. Did he just put the pieces together?

But Ash doesn’t seem concerned at all, and only lifts one eyebrow and his goblet. “Congratulations.”

Rahk doesn’t reply.

Faradir lifts an eyebrow in a way that is a near replica of Ash’s. It’s a little strange to see the father-son resemblance between them when I love one so dearly and hate the other so viciously.

“I see I was misinformed,” says Faradir with a smile at both Rahk and Listhra, the latter being shockingly quiet. “I heard you were exchanging gifts. What pray, if not engagement gifts, were you exchanging this afternoon?”

Now I dearly regret Ash insisting I not use my glamours. My face goes hot, likely turning as red as the roses on my gown. I try to hide it by taking another sip of my drink.

Princess Listhra, a thread of alarm in her voice, speaks up at last. “There must be some mistake. I spent the afternoon in my chambers with my ladies. Any of them can vouch for my whereabouts. I gave no gifts to Prince Rahk.”

The table, previously full of chatter, goes dead silent. The words ring true, making the confusion almost palpable.

“You gave him no gift?” the High King asks, leaning back in his throne-like chair and casually stroking his chin.

Listhra, realizing her mistake—that her words sounded like an evasion of the question—quickly insists, “I gave him nothing. Nothing at all.”

The words ring true again.

My apple juice is already gone. Ash, his face a perfect mask of confusion and amusement at the scene playing out before us, pours me another glass.

This isn’t going to work,my mind repeats over and over in my head.

Ash takes a slow sip from his goblet, then asks, “Well, I suppose the only question to be asked is this: Prince Rahk, what did Princess Listhra give you this afternoon?”

Listhra’s skin goes pale, and when she leans forward to look at Ash, there is murder in her lovely golden eyes. She knows she’s been tricked, even if she doesn’t understand how.

Prince Rahk clears his throat, back to his carefully composed self as he announces, “She gave me nothing. The package was empty.”

“How very interesting,” the High King says with an almost gleeful grin, tenting his fingers and eyeing Listhra. “How mysterious of you. Perhaps your friends will enlighten me. Princess Pelarusa, you often spend time with Listhra, do you not?”

Rahk’s attention sharpens on his sister. No one makes a move as servants set a plate of food before each of us.

“I did not spend the afternoon with her in her rooms,” Pelarusa says quickly, which is not a denial—because a denial would be a lie.

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