Page 29 of Faking with the Fae King

“Rather presumptuous.” I arch an eyebrow.

She lifts her chin. “I do not mean to lose.”

It doesn’t ring true. Gnomes are horrible gossips. There’sno way these two don’t already know about my betrothal, since I bought Hannah’s ring from gnomes. They know I’ll choose Hannah, so this is about something else.

“What is your name?” I ask. It’s a test. Like many of the smaller fae, gnomes do not give their real names lightly. It’s like Diamond at Bling It On—she told us we could call her that name, but she didn’t say it was her real one. This gnome will offer her true name if she truly wants to marry me. If she doesn’t…

“You may call me Ruby.”

Her phrasing makes it clear it’s not her real name. What could they be playing at?

Before I can tease out any answers, the wood nymphs arrive. Tall and slender, the two women move with the grace of majestic trees swaying gently in a breeze. They seem to float down the aisle, their long, willow-leaf hair rippling. Green-leaf clothing sets off their skin, which is the light linen of freshly cut wood.

“King Severin.” The older nymph sinks into a deep curtsy. “The wood nymphs of Alarria present to you Elowen.”

As soon as my eyes turn to the younger woman, she drops into an equally graceful curtsy. “Your Majesty.” She’s a pretty thing, with a long, oval face and an air of haunting sadness about her that probably makes most men long to protect her.

I am, however, not most men. The shadow fae in me sees her display as a weakness. If there’s a sturdy tree trunk under that façade, I can’t see it. Elowen is the kind of woman I could break far too easily.

Still, her coming here means the wood nymphs are ready to be allies, and I cannot offend. I tip my head to her. “Elowen.”

A stir at the doors of the room grabs everyone’s attention. A shadow fae strides into view, a tall male in the first flush of adulthood, with lightly tanned skin and long brown hair. He wears fighting leathers, the vest baring his shadow-tattooed arms. His cocky look of disdain withers beneath my hard stare, and by the time he stops in front of my throne, uncertainty stains his eyes.

Meloria appears, framed by the doors and her shadow wings. Instead of walking down the aisle, she flies, using the faintest movements of her wings to show off her control. Her strength attracted my attention years ago, yet I now know it’s a hard, unyielding strength. One that doesn’t allow for real emotion. A long-term relationship with her would be a hollow thing.

She hovers for a moment before touching down, her long blonde hair floating around her face. Her beautiful features are chiseled with cold perfection, and she wears fighting leathers, every inch the warrior queen.

The youth at her side rallies enough to speak. “King Severin.” He bows. “I present to you Queen Meloria of Markan.”

Markan, the dead realm my ex-lover thinks to damn me to.

Fuck no.

My lips pull back from my teeth in a snarl. “So you not only defect, you also steal young pups from my kennel. How many have you lured to your realm?”

“Don’t be such a poor loser, darling,” Meloria says. “It’s only a handful.”

I make note to have Daigan look into who’s missing from Avalon, expecting a list of more like the young man before me—those easily lured by the promise of her bed.

“If they were foolish enough to follow you, I’ve lost nothing,” I say. “Why are you here?”

“To be queen.”

“Did my ears deceive me? Did your representative not already name you such?”

Anger breaks through the pale-blue ice of her eyes for a flickering second before being hidden again. We both know she’s currently queen of nothing. Then she glances at Ruby and Elowen, her expression dismissive. “I will win.”

I smirk at her, loving the horrified shock that pinches her face when I say, “To do that, you’ll have to best my betrothed.”

CHAPTER TWELVE

Hannah

“I can’t believe we foundnothing,” I moan, when Naomi teleports the three of us to the front door of Severin’s palace for the first bride trial. “All the research we did yesterday and everyone in the Witch Bitch Spicy Book Club looking, and none of it helped.”

I said a bunch of spells, and the only thing I learned is my Latin pronunciation ishorrible.

I mixed up a potion, and the only result was I set off the smoke detector.

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