Page 24 of The Cursed Crown

"Hmm. Alden's crown suits you, by the way."

She wasn't even going there. "I'm keeping the dress." She'd considered offering to pay for it, or handing it back, but after that show, she'd earned it.

"Fine. It wouldn't suit me, in any case."

She fought against a smile, and lost miserably. "How did you get it so fast? Did it belong to one of the ladies of the court?"

"In a way," Rydekar replied.

She grimaced at the thought of wearing a discarded frock of Siobhe’s, or another one of his old lovers. But no matter. She loved it too much to bring herself to care.

He leaned to her ear. "Jealousy does wonders for your complexion, little crow. But sheathe your talons—it was a present from my great-grandfather to his human wife, Sophie. I thought you were about the same size."

"Are you insinuating I'm shaped like a mortal?" Rissa needled.

Rydekar glanced down to the deep sweetheart neckline of her dress and wordlessly stared for several seconds, before returning to her eyes. He simply lifted a brow.

He had a point. She did have curves most lissome fairy ladies didn't tend to possess, perhaps courtesy of her mother—she wouldn't know.

"You're a—"

"Bastard. We've already established this." Rydekar returned to his seat. Louder, he said, "Crane, you have the pleasure of standing in the presence of Serissa Braer. Rissa, Crane Vorfj. He's advised and fought for my family for several generations."

The goblin inclined as low as he could. "How do you do?"

She presented her hand, and he moved to kiss it. His slimy lips made her want to wipe herself on something. As her only option was the beautiful dress she wore, Rissa refrained.

"We're glad you've joined us. Might we expect more seelie folk to travel to the Old Keep soon?"

Rydekar spared her the need of answering. "Several are on their way, and Rissa will travel north to gather our allies shortly." She just had to smile and nod, and the lord was pleased.

He excused himself shortly after, leaving them with only Havryll standing between both thrones.

Rissa observed the court fairing to their machinations—gossiping, stealing glances at the dais, drinking, kissing in dark corners. "They don't seem concerned with their king's presence."

"So long as Havryll's here, they'll assume I'm occupied with grand affairs. When he leaves, I'll have to put up with supplicants." His mouth curved into a smile. "Or I suppose we'll have to, tonight, little crow."

"It won't work," she sniffed. "Pretending I'm yours. Most will see through the farce, but even if they don't, the seelie folk won't respect you more because of it."

"It's already working," Rydekar purred. His gaze trailed to a corner of the room she hadn't spotted yet.

The seelie lords she'd seen before were gathered there, every bit of their attention pinned on the dais.

Some seemed concerned, others, downright furious.

"Yesterday, you were no one. Today, with the might of my power, and your bloodline, they know they don't have any choice but to kneel."

Rissa shook her head.

Rydekar reached out, snatching her hand from her lap, and clasped it inside his grasp. Then, he kissed their intertwined fingers. "Shall we make a wager?"

Only a fool would play with a cunning fae king, but backing out would make her a coward. "State the terms," she replied noncommittally.

He tilted his head. "Dance with me."

Rissa's heart skipped a beat. Though she was fully aware that every bit of his attention was intended for the sake of the sea of courtiers, it wasn't every day Rydekar Bane set out to seduce the likes of her. She wasn't equipped to deal with him. Not without sustaining damage.

"That doesn't sound like much of a wager."

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