Page 45 of Faking with the Fae King

Rachel suggests “Abracadabra” by Lady Gaga, and everyone agrees it’s the only thing they can think of with witchy words. I make it through all of the lyrics I can remember twice, but nothing happens.

“Fruity bites,” Finn says, bumping my hand. With permission from Autumn, I grab a crunch berry from her cupcake and toss it to the floor, and he dives onto it with an excited yip.

A wry smile curls my lips. At least someone’s happy. I look up at the other witches. “Anything else?”

“I asked all my gamer friends and got more wands.” Kayla pulls them out of the little backpack she carries instead of a purse.

I take a couple of pieces of cocoa puffs from my cupcake and rest them on my thigh. One after the other, I swish the wands through the air, first silently, then saying, “Volito,” which means float in Latin. The cereal pieces remain completely still.

“The books I ordered through library loan are still ontheir way,” Skye says with an apologetic shrug. “All of the ones that sounded promising are too old to have electronic versions, and snail mail is slow.”

“I couldn’t find anything to help. All of my parents’ old commune friends talk about being one with the land and have a lot of farming tips but nothing actually witchy,” Autumn says. “Sorry we’re not much of a coven yet.”

“Hey, none of that.” I give her a side arm hug. “You guys found out you’re witches less than a week ago. Be realistic.”

“I could say the same to you,” Naomi says. “You haven’t known that long either. Cut yourself some slack.”

“I will.” But even as I say it, I realize it’s a lie. My go-getter personality comes with a downside—I can be pretty hard on myself.

And it’s not like I have a lot of choice. Time’s ticking away. I only have a couple of days before the next trial.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Severin

I spend the entirety of the next day with the dragon, constantly infuriated by his arrogance.

Yes, he’s a renowned scholar. Yes, he’s the foremost fae expert on human magic. Yes, dragons are the only other magic users who can rival the shadow fae in raw power.

I’m still a king.

When Lukendevener tells me not to be foolish for the third time, my shadows spool outward. I barely yank them back before strangling him.

As satisfying as it would be—and it would beveryfucking satisfying—throttling him won’t get me what I want.

“It’s not as if you’re the pinnacle of efficiency,” I snark back, waving a hand to take in his library. “You can barely find anything.” Wisteria trees surround the central area,framed by ornate windows. Long hallways lead off of both sides, each of them branching into smaller corridors that wind on for miles. The whole thing is far larger than the building that contains it, but this castle is a piece of Faerie and therefore bound by the laws of magic, which are quite flexible, indeed.

“I am unfamiliar with this library.” He scowls. “It was lost to my family for the past three-hundred years. I only regained access when the doors of Faerie reopened.”

“That’s notmyproblem,” I snarl, chopping a hand through the air. “I paid dearly for your services, and I expect to receive my due.” I inserted Lukendevener’s castle into the fabric of Earth in the same way I did with my palace. It was his price for helping me with this endeavor. Why he wants to be on Earth, I don’t know or care. But want it he does, so it gives me leverage over him. “Your castle is only anchored here by my agreement with Hannah. If you do not aid me in securing a permanent arrangement, you will be forced to leave.”

He sneers, but instead of arguing, he stomps off into the labyrinth that is his library, searching for answers.

I practice patience for what feels like absolute ages, but when I check the time, it’s only been five minutes. I try again, only making it for three minutes this time.

“You have got to be kidding me.” I scowl at the timepiece, which, being inanimate, doesn’t cower in any kind of gratifying way. Warrior kings never have to wait—warrior kings get immediate results or else.

Fuck. This is one of those times when I dearly miss such raw power.

The dragon finds me various bits and bobs, and when I bring Hannah to my palace that evening, there’s a wealth of magical implements spread across the library table.

We start with the wands. When Hannah has no success on her own, I stand close behind her, my hand wrapped over hers, and we try them all again. The only reaction she’s able to bring about is magic of a more primal sort: my raging erection, which I fight to ignore.

We spend several exhausting hours trying the rest of the paraphernalia, one item after the other, to no avail. By the time I fly her home for the night, she’s drooping in my arms, and not even her usual joy of flying can keep her eyes open.

This will not do. This will not do at all.

I storm into his castle the next morning, demanding lessons in magical theory instead of useless props, and the day passes in a blur of lectures.

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