Page 20 of A Bride for the Winter King
“Does my pedigree anger you, Lori? Do you have an axe to grind with the Sun Court?” Elio asks with humor.
“No. I just meant—my sponsor didn’t mention it.”
Silence, again. The unabashed glare of the eye unnerves me, and I touch the arch of my brow over the cheap plastic mask.
“You’re not from Faerie, are you?” he asks.
My chest deflates, and I shake my head, grateful for the lifeline. “No, I’m from the new world.”
“And why did you agree to come here?”
I hug a cushion to my lap.It’s just small talk. I can do this.“I had to come…for my family.”
“For money and long-lasting youth, right?” Elio says in a muted tone.
“Yeah,” I lie.
“Don’t fret, you’re not the only one. You’ve all been enticed by the riches of my kingdom. The precious jewels from my mines and my invaluable frost apples. It’s refreshing to hear you say it. I distrust the brides that proclaim to be after true love, because they certainly won’t find it here.”
I frown at that. “Isn’t marriage supposed to be based on love?”
“Typically, yes.”
“And what makes you so untypical? Besides the endless string of dead wives, that is.”
The silence stretches and expands, and my heart beats in my throat. “Are you still there?”
Silence.
Fuck-fuck-fuck.“Sorry, that was rude—I just wanted to break the ice?—”
A pun? Really?My brain melts from the shame, and I bury my face in the cushion not to scream.
“No, it’s the truth. Never apologize for the truth,” Elio whispers.
A faintthudon the other side of the wall goes straight to my spine, and I grab my forehead. “Hello?”
He’s gone.I’ve done it. I’ve ruined the entire mission with one stupid sentence. Why in the seven hells did I say that? The man marries—and very likely kills his wife—every year. It was incredibly stupid of me to point it out.
Byron releases me from the ice trap, and I wait for Daisy to be done so the Faeling can escort us back together. When the blonde finally joins me on the snowy path, the Faeling buzzes forward in front of us.
“How did yours go?” she chimes in a fake, sugary tone.
I glower at the blonde, about ready to slap the satisfied smile off her smug face.
“That bad, eh?” She skips up ahead, her steps a little lighter than before. “I’m glad to hear it.”
My brows raise. “I hope your date sucked as well.”
We exchange a glance, and—to my extreme surprise—erupt into a fit of uncontrollable laughter. My belly clenches as I try to get a hold of myself, but the situation is just so bizarre, I can’t stop.
Byron’s spine stiffens, and he flies further ahead.
Daisy stops walking as she muffles an unladylike snort with her hands. “This pageant is pretty fucked up, isn’t it?” she whispers.
I nod emphatically at her assessment. We’re never going to be friends, but we’re more alike than I thought. “Absolutely. Do you even want to marry that guy?”
Her nose wrinkles in outrage. “No. You?”
