Page 86 of A Bride for the Winter King
I quickly explain what happened on the mountains beyond what has been broadcasted, but Seth’s expression remains unmoved.
“Damian will kill me if I let you do this—” he starts.
“I’m a grown woman. I can make my own decisions, and I’ve done my part.” My heart beats in my throat as I roll my shoulders back. “The winter solstice is tomorrow. You need to make good on your promise.”
Seth presses his lips together in a thin line. “A deal is a deal, of course. But I still think you’re making a mistake.”
A rapid succession of knocks interrupts our conversation, and Seth walks over to unlock the door while I hide my mask behind the skirt of my dress.
Byron’s wings flap as he hovers in mid-air on the other side of the door with his trusty clipboard in hand. “Don’t dawdle. The broadcast will commence in ten minutes. I need you two in the ballroomnow.”
Chapter 34
And the Winner Is…
LORI
The ballroom has been rearranged to sit a few hundred courtiers, with an elevated stage set up in front of the frosted floor-to-ceiling windows. I recognize a few faces in the first row, mainly the other sponsors.
Anticipation rumbles through the audience at our arrival. A handful of cameras hover over the public, most of them glaring at the hosts. Sara and Paul sit in a pair of teal velvet armchairs, three empty seats lined up next to them.
Seth zooms across the room to rejoin his colleagues while Byron escorts Daisy and me to the side of the stage where the Winter brides are waiting. I haven’t seen them since they left us to freeze on the mountains, and my nails dig into my palms.
“Look who finally decided to grace us with her presence,” one of them grunts.
Wendy shoots me a glance that spells out exactly how disappointed she is to see me alive. The off-the-shoulder neckline of her dress highlights her smooth, pale skin, and her dark hair has been styled in an elaborate updo.
“The brides are here,” Sara announces, drawing our focus back to the stage. She retrieves three small envelopes from the inside pocket of her glittering white jacket. “Since the last challenge was cut short, I now hold the names of the three finalists personally selected by our king.”
Paul leans forward, his hands fanning in front of him in a show of machiavellian excitement. Despite his gray hair looking flat and oily, his black suit and matching bow tie lend him a more polished appearance than his usual white tuxedo. “Shall we invite them on stage, Sara?”
“Yes.” Sara tears open the first paper envelope, and her voice trembles as she enunciates, “Daisy Sinclair.”
The crowd claps. A full-bodied gasp erupts from Daisy, momentarily freezing her in place. She quickly regains her composure, striding forward with a blazing smile on her red-painted lips. She climbs the three little steps to meet Paul, who hands her a single blue rose, pecks her cheeks, and gestures for her to take one of the three empty seats.
Sara tears open the seal of the second envelope. “Wendy Frost.”
A dozen High Fae rise to cheer her on, and I suppress the urge to roll my eyes.
Sara opens the third envelope and holds it over her chest. “And last but not least, Lori Lovegood,” she announces quietly.
My shoulders sag in a mix of worry and relief. For a moment there, I was almost certain she wouldn’t call my name.
I walk onto the stage amidst deafening applause. Paul hands me a blue rose and plants a peck on my cheeks as well, before I take my place between Daisy and Wendy.
Sara moves to shake our hands. “Congratulations,” she says quickly, her hand clammy in my grip. “And good luck.”
Her fake smile sends a chill down my spine as I lean in. “Is everything okay?”
She averts her gaze and offers Wendy the same lackluster words of encouragement before hurrying offstage. A molten heat pools in my gut. Something’s wrong.
I scour the room, but between the cameras, the quiet gardens beyond the windows, and the eager spectators, there’s no hint of trouble.
“How does it feel to know, one way or another, you’re going to receive a frost apple?” Paul asks. “Let’s start with you, Daisy.”
Tears glaze over her eyes as she opens her mouth and swallows hard. “I can’t find the words, Paul.”
I play absent-mindedly with the long-stemmed blue rose and accidentally prick my finger on its thorns.
