Page 31 of Faking with the Fae King

There’s a pair of gnomes, and the younger woman gives me a nod of greeting, a small smile tugging at the corners of her mouth as she spots my engagement ring.

Two tall, willowy women with leafy hair both watch me with slightly mournful looks on their faces. I immediately want to go over and tell them everything will be alright.

I keep turning, my eyes sliding past another good-looking shadow fae man to…

Oh, god. The most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen glaresdismissively at me, her eyes the light blue of the heart of a glacier and just as warm. She’s taller than me and model-thin, with leather-encased legs that go on for days. Long blonde hair flows around her shoulders like something from a shampoo commercial. Shadow tattoos slide across the bare skin of her arms, promising magic and power. And her face! Her face is carved by a master artist, a perfect match for Severin’s chiseled features.

I swallow so loudly I’m sure her fae hearing picks it up, because she sniffs and sneers even harder.

“This is a farce. You honestly expect me to believe you’re going to choose this human over me?” The shadow fae rests a hand on Severin’s forearm, her tattoos sliding toward his. When she catches me looking, she preens like a cat with the cream.

In a flash, I realize she’s so comfortable touching him because they’ve been lovers. The dead butterflies plummet to the bottom of my stomach like sinking stones. I’ve always been pretty confident in myself and my looks, but this woman isunreal. I’m wearing my prettiest purple blouse and a pair of really sharp designer trousers I got for a steal at Nordstrom Rack. I look my best, but I can’t hold a candle to her. How can I ever compete?

“I wouldneverchoose her.” Finn presses against my calf, a low growl humming through his body as he stares at her, his fangs bared. “Don’t forget you have the great honor of being my witch.”

“Thanks, bud,” I whisper.

The beautiful fae ignores us and says to Severin, “Declare me your queen.”

“Never,” he snaps, his shadows emerging to shove her hand from his arm. “It will never be you, Meloria.”

The conviction in his voice shocks me. Is she why he wants to fake marry me? So he won’t be forced to marry her? I don’t know whether to be thrilled or insulted.

“We will begin the first trial.” He keeps his grip on my hand, and one of his shadows coils around my waist, keeping me close as he leads all of us outside to his garden.

A five-foot pillar of rose quartz stands on a low dais. Varyn instructs the representatives to surround it. “Place one hand on the bridal crystal, and it will create the first trial.”

“You really don’t know what the trials are going to be?” I whisper to Severin.

“No one does.” He shakes his head. “The crystal changes them each time. It’s the only way to make the trials fair.”

Before I can ask anything more, a wave of magic crashes over me, snatching me from Severin’s grasp. I float up into the air in a blazing ball of light. Tingles rush over me as my clothing disappears to be replaced by slippers and a floating gossamer gown of white. It’s lovely and ethereal, like someone captured starlight and gave it physical form. The magic lowers me gently to the ground, clearing so I can see again.

All of the other contestants wear dresses like mine, and of course, Meloria looks freakingamazing.

A scroll of parchment pops into being in front of Varyn, and he reads, “The first trial is the trial of grace. Each contestant must make it across this field of flowers to the groom. Let it be known you now wear the finest of Faerie silks. A single touch of the blossoms will stain. She whomakes it across without any discoloration in the most graceful fashion shall win.”

Magic ripples across the ground, moving Severin to the other side of the garden like he stepped onto one of those moving walkways airports have, only made of grass.

The middle of the garden transforms, the paths and bushes disappearing until it becomes a solid sea of flowers in a patchwork of red, pink, blue, purple, yellow, and orange.

It’s absolutely beautiful, but it’s also impossible to get across without touching any of the blossoms.

“You call this a trial?” Meloria lets out a sarcastic laugh and leaps into the sky, her wings snapping out of her back. She makes a sharp V in the air, arrowing down to land directly in front of Severin, her dress as pristine as a field of arctic snow. She throws a gloating smirk at me as she stands at his side.

Damn. I hate that she’s already potentially won, and I sure as hell can’t fly. I spent a good half hour yesterday jumping around on a straddled broom, which gave me nothing more than a killer wedgie.

Naomi steps close. “What are you going to do?”

“I don’t know.”

“I’ll scout.” Finn trots toward the flowers, nose to the ground, and runs back and forth across the front. He gives a frustrated snort, then plunges into the lush growth, setting a stand of irises swaying. Emerging several feet away, he slinks back over, his tail down. “I couldn’t find a way through.”

“It’s okay, bud. I don’t think there is one.”

“I’ll go next,” the gnome says. Instead of moving toward the flowers, she dances away from them, going over to aflower bed edged with bare earth. With a swan dive, she disappears into the ground, leaving behind her little moss cap. She pops up a minute later from a plant bed behind Severin, looking exactly the same except for the tiny patch of violets on her head.

“How the heckity heck is her dress still white?” I gesture. “She tunneled throughdirt, for god’s sake!”

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