Page 103 of Destined for the Fae King

“Mira,” Tharin says. “Don’t.”

“But he—” I gesture wildly.

But Tharin doesn’t let go.

“So desperate.” Vasilius tsks at me, shaking his head. “Is it love?”

“What have you done to him?” If not for Tharin holding me back, I’d likely punch him, king or no.

“He’s fine,” the king says. “Though even a prince of fire can have trouble taking the heat after a while, isn’t that so, my brother?”

Lysandir remains on the ground, grimacing, and I only pray that’s the extent of what’s been done to him. If he’s been tortured, suffered some other way too—

My throat starts to close up, and its everything I can do to pull in one breath after another.

“What to do? What to do?” Vasilius starts to pace back and forth. “Here I am, trying to find my bride, and my brother goes and seduces one of my women.” He pauses and looks at Lysandir. “It’s treason, you know.”

Lysandir doesn’t argue, just hangs his head, and it guts me, absolutely tears me up to see him like this to the point I can’t take it anymore.

“It’s my fault!” I step toward the king, demanding his attention. When he gives it, sliding his imperious gaze my way, my skin tingles from the pressure of his regard. Nothing in life has prepared me for this, but I summon everything I have anyway to make my stand.

“Mira!” Tharin hisses my name and hardens his grip.

I roll my shoulder, trying to shake him off.

“I kissed him this morning. I went to his room. I lay in his bed.” Those were my choices.

The king stalks back my way. I brace, holding my spine straight. His gaze dips to Tharin’s hand on my arm, and the king shoos him away. With a quick look of apology to me then Lysandir, Tharin goes.

Vasilius stops just in front of me, staring me down. “You are bound to me.”

“Yes,” I say. “And I wanted to love you. I did, with all of my heart. I wasn’t lying when I said I’d dreamed for years about coming here and about becoming your bride. I really thought that I could be perfect for you.” A strange calm settles over me as I share my truth. “You have many qualities that make you a great king, and many women would be happy to be your bride. But unfortunately, I am no longer one of them. I wanted to love you but…” I turn my head to look at Lysandir. It’s hard to make out the look on his face with the distance between us, but just the sight of him, there, breathing, and suffering for caring for me, makes the words flow even more easily. “But I fell in love with Lysandir instead.”

When I look back at the king, any illusion of humor has faded completely from his stony features. I wait, braced for his reply,when he turns on his heel and strides back to his chair. He drops into, propping one elbow on his need and leaning his head on his fist as he continues to look between the two of us in silence.

“What to do with you two,” the king muses aloud to the quiet room. His attention lingers on me. “Perhaps I should just marry you.”

I gasp.

“No!” Lysandir cries out, leaping to his feet.

Vasilius holds an open palm toward him, and Lysandir draws still and silent.

“It would be a fitting punishment for such a betrayal,” the king drawls.

Darkness creeps in at the edge of my vision, and despite the warmth of the room, I’m suddenly cold.

This is it. This is how the vision comes true.

Somewhere behind me, a door groans open. I dare a glance behind me in time to see Elaine enter, making her way toward us on her cane—the spear.

“What’s going on here?” she demands.

“I must deal with this treason,” the king replies, unmoving save for his mouth.

“Treason?” she scoffs. Her gaze darts between myself, Lysandir, and the king. “Have they aligned themselves with the Unseelie then?”

“No,” the king grumbles.

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