Page 328 of Kingdoms of Night

The warrior lifts one of her sculpted brows. Right. Nothing that fits her incredibly lean, muscular frame would stand a chance of passing over my hips or breasts.

“You will notborrow.” Dryan’s tone is full of disdain. “Least of all from Iara. She’ll have your firstborn for the effort.”

Right. Fairy trades. I wince. “You can go without me.”

Dryan walks to the mannequin and circles it, his intense eyes zeroing in on my stitching and embroidery. The scrutiny makes me even more uncomfortable than the first time he stared right at my pussy. “It’s a fine gown,” he says at long last. “And it will suit you well. What do you have against it?” He sounds offended on behalf of my creation.

I wouldn’t spell out the issue for an entire kingdom. “It’s not ready,” I say, crossing my arms around my middle.

“Ah.” His expression clears and he smile. “Well, I had a dress made for you. Not as grand or skillfully made, but it’ll do.”

He retrieves the discarded parcel, opens it, and pull out a straight dress far more suited to his court.

I never expected him to order clothing for me, when he seems to intent on keeping me naked at all times. I grin and run into his arms, squeezing his hard frame before taking the fabric, still giddy.

He got me a dress.

CHAPTERSIXTEEN

Ithought I was prepared. I thought I understood the depth of depravity that goes on in the fae courts, after my brief introduction to the high king’s world. I was wrong.

The throng of bodies stomp their feet to the rhythm of the heady drums, dancing half—or completely—naked. I see tits pierced with bone rings and hard, veiny cocks bounce unabashedly.

The crystal court has been unbound, and I can only stare openmouthed, wishing for the willpower to resist the call to join them.

The moment we reach the doors of the great hall, everyone stops dancing, gyrating, drinking, singing, and fucking to fall to their knees, curtsying deep or bowing till their noses are but an inch from the floor.

This is power, the likes of which I’ve never seen—not from my father, not from King Hevar. Not even in the high king’s court, where the subjects seemed too busy scheming and calculating to show this amount of fear and respect.

The crowd rushes to part and let us cross the hall to Dryan’s crystal throne, mounted on a silver frame and surrounded by thick vines blooming with black flowers.

The dances resumes once he sits. I stay by the side of the throne, unsure of what I’m supposed to do. His hounds relax at his feet, so after a moment, I consider joining them. I am his pet after all.

Before I can kneel, Dryan takes my hand and tugs me to him. His strong palms rest on my hips and guide me to his lap.

I can feel how hard he is the moment I sit, so I blush.

No wonder.

I know better than to believe the tales of fairies are lies now. There is something terrifyingly irresistible about the sound of a fairy dance. I want to join them. In my father's kingdom, dances are studied, calculated things little children learn along with their letters and numbers. We rarely step closer than three feet away from our partners. But here? The crowd in the great hall spirals as one, flesh flush against flesh, bodies melding together. I watch a redheaded fae man take his cock in his hand and slide it between the nearest woman's thighs. She only arches her back and takes him, still dancing, still lost in this enchanted ball. Do they even know each other's names? I'm not certain either of them cares.

They're not the only ones to indulge. The more I look, the redder my face flushes in shame. If there's a difference between dancing and tupping, no one has seen fit to explain it to anyone here. An eerie, thin, short woman with diaphanous pink hair has a hand between the legs of a dark-skinned, willowy blonde, casually entering her over and over again. A boy too young for such affairs in my kingdom is kneeling between a naked woman's long legs. They're twirling in the light of the crystal chandeliers one moment, and sucking tits and cocks the next. I don't think brothels are this unapologetically lewd.

I cross my legs, uncomfortable and too hot though the hall is cold and I wear practically nothing—a pink mesh that’s transparent in this light, crossed by black ribbons that look like bonds.

We're seated above the crowd, on a raised platform no one dares approach, but I don't miss the looks. Everyone is intrigued by us. Some look merely curious, but others seem more calculating.

And some also seem angry. I don’t quite understand it, though I suspect it has to do with me, a mortal. Morag certainly showed what she thought—what some fae must think—of my kind.

The king sips his wine and occasionally raises a cup to salute his subjects magnanimously. He doesn't attempt a word, and I'm grateful. My stomach’s tied in a thousand knots. I finally understand that being encouraged to remain secluded within my room was for my own protection and comfort. I’m unsettled. This isn’t my world. Here, I’m a bug among giants.

A pet.

The dance is interrupted for a second time, though this time, no one bows. They instead rush to scamper towards the wall, leaving the center of the hall almost empty.

The group that appears at the doors are led by a couple who walk hand in hand. The dark-haired beauty wears leather pants and a tiny top that leaves inches of skin visible around her middle. A shield and a sheathed sword are strapped across her back. Another warrior lady. She’s so remarkable, I only notice her companion when they’re halfway across the room. He has hair of fire, eyes cold as ice, and though he holds no weapon, I doubt he needs one to kill every single person in this room if he wishes to. Dryan would be the only survivor among a pile of corpses.

“Calreth,” Dryan calls with a nod. “Keira. Welcome to the Crystal Keep. I trust your journey was agreeable.”

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