Page 17 of Destined for the Fae King

“That’s all right,” I force out in my calmest voice. “I was just about to retire back to my room. Maybe I can take this with me?” I hold up the book.

Tharin gives Lysandir a reproachful look, surprising, given his station, before addressing me. “Of course,” he says. “I will show you the way.” He turns to Lysandir and gives a bow. “My prince.”

Lysandir nods in return, and we turn to leave. But just before we round the bookshelf out of sight, his voice catches me and pulls me to a standstill. “Goodnight, Lady Mira. I look forward to speaking with you more.”

My teeth slam together, and I inhale a sharp breath.Be courteous. Be calm.

I turn toward him slowly. “Goodnight, Prince Lysandir.”

Chapter 7

I’m awoken by asteady thump at the door and the sound of someone entering my room. When I crack my eyes open, light floods in through the windows.

“Good morning, Lady Mira.” It’s well past dawn, but Fia is entirely too perky for how exhausted I feel. “I trust you slept well.”

Terribly, actually.Two nights in Faery and both of them spent lying awake replaying my interactions with a certain fae prince who has gotten under my skin in all the worst ways. Yesterday I was still able to wake refreshed and excited about the day—call it adrenaline. Today…not so much.

However, as I sit up in bed, I catch a whiff of something that improves my mood considerably. Fia carries a small try which bears a covered plate and a large mug of what must be coffee.

“You remembered,” I remark as she sets the tray on my desk, moving aside the book I borrowed and barely touched in the process.

“Of course.” She gives a quick curtsy before picking up the coffee and bringing it over to me. “I let you sleep late. I hope you don’t mind.”

“Not at all.” I take the warm mug and inhale a deep breath of the steam. That alone is a lift. The first sip nearly burns my throat, but it’s worth it, so worth it, for the way it instantly livens me up.

“I thought it wise because you may have a late night tonight.” A wide grin stretches across her pale face. "You’re all invited to dine with the king, and we’ve been told he may ask to spend time with some of you afterward.” She all but squeals with glee. “Isn’t that wonderful?”

Now, that perks me up even more than the coffee. “That’s great news.”

Finally, we can start this competition in earnest. Instantly, my mind shifts into planning mode: what to wear, how to get the best seat, topics of conversation.

“Do we know what kind of dinner it is?” I ask.

“A formal affair in the high dining room, which is the real reason I woke you. The tailors are here, but they’re not done with everyone’s clothes. They’ve brought what they’ve been working on so that you can pick your favorite for this evening and they can get it finished for you. They’ve already met with several of the others this morning.”

Which means I’m behind. I slip out of bed, nearly spilling a wave of coffee over the rim of the mug. My bare feet land on smooth tile warmed by the sunlight coming through the near window.

“I’ll see them now,” I say. “Is that all right?”

Her eyes widen. “Let me get your robe first.”

Fair. Greeting the tailors in an oversized T-shirt and sleep shorts probably isn’t a great idea. Ididbring some nice lingerie sleepwear, but honestly, it’s for appearances only—if needed. As Fia hurries back with a long robe of crimson silk, I reluctantly set the coffee aside. It’ll have to wait.

We spend the next hour or so with a team of three who have me try on each outfit, not only to let me choose one for the evening but also to confirm that everything fits to their high standard of perfection. Mixed with beautiful gowns are a few more casual outfits too—flowing pants and tops, a few so shear I’m amazed I can’t see the mole on my hip.

All of the dresses are gorgeous, which doesn’t make picking one any easier. I avoided red during our brunch with the queen, seeing it as the obvious choice and wanting to stand out instead…not that Vasilius showed up. I’m sure several of the other women will wear some bright shade tonight too, but maybe more of them will change it up. In which case, it might help to favor the court colors. Maybe? My head almost hurts from overthinking it—as I’m prone to do—so I eventually just pick a lavish crimson-and-gold dress with flowing sheer sleeves and move on to inspecting the rest of the clothes.

“Are these yoga pants?” I say, lifting black pair that look suspiciously like ones I almost packed but are much softer and light as air.

“Oh, yes, I added those for you,” Fia says. “Some of the other women asked for some, so I thought you might like them also. A few women even went to the gardens to practice this morning, or so I heard. It could be a good opportunity to get to know them better. And who knows, maybe the king will even decide to stop by.” She winks.

I smile in return. “I like your thinking.”

Itisa good idea. Besides, I’ll need something to do with my time if we have more idle days like yesterday.

The day passes quickly between fittings, a few self-guided walks around the nearby areas to get my bearings, and an ill-advised drop by our parlor, which earns a snide comment from Cora abouthiding my face all morning followed by giggles from Katherine. I don’t dignify it with a response, preferring instead to chat a bit with Adeline and Grace, who confirm they did in fact practice yoga that morning and invite me to join them tomorrow.

Fia finds me long before dinner and insists on getting to work transforming me into what she calls “an enchanting vision the king won’t be able to ignore.” Her words, not mine. While I don’t exactly lack self-esteem, her confidence could put anyone to shame. Though the more she works her own practical magic on me, the more I believe her. My hair is smooth and soft yet crafted into artful waves and partially pulled back to perfectly accent my face. The makeup she’s applied is light and airy, highlighting and enhancing more than hiding or changing the way I look.

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