Page 44 of The Crown of a Fallen Queen
I grab the pendant hanging around his neck and play with the rectangular piece of metal, gliding my thumb against the sleek dark piece of jewelry. I know these have to do with Storm magic, but I can’t remember what they do.
Seth raises his hands to my bare arms, giving them a gentle, almost tentative squeeze. “Never. Just hold still.”
Spring magic tingles across my arms, neck, and chest as Seth’s power coats my entire body, and I instantly regret my offer. It’s too personal. Too intimate. He undresses me with his magic, melding the red fabric of my turtleneck and black jeans and using them to line the dress.
Threads borrowed from the silk pillows, the fur, the drapes, and molten gold from the chandeliers drift toward us. Unwoven fibers and liquid metal glide against my skin to form golden rose petals that sew themselves together.
I spy on his progress in the mirror.
The opulent gown is springtime frozen in gold. It clings to me at the bodice, petals and metallic vines mirroring the candlelight. The off-shoulder sleeves threaten to slip, and the thigh-high slit draws attention to my legs. I don’t wear this dress—I weaponize it. The plunging neckline dips down to reveal the curves of my breasts in a soft V-shape framed by a delicate floral appliqué. Alluring but classic. Daunting without being overly flashy. The kind of dress that lures stares in instead of shouting for attention.
A lavish fur coat hugs my shoulders, warm and soft. It cuts off just above my waist, leaving the full skirt of the gown untouched. The shoes are nude satin with a block heel, and two delicate straps snake around my ankles.
Fae don’t let things like the end of the world get in the way of throwing a good party. If anything, they dresslouderfor it.
Seth comes to stand behind me, the fabric still humming with the last traces of his magic, and I end up flush against him, myback to his chest. We both freeze at the sight of our reflection. His hands settle on my waist under the pretense of checking the fit, his thumbs grazing the curve of my hips. He drinks me in with his eyes, proud of what he’s made.
Subtle twines of gold are braided into my hair, reminiscent of a crown, and I swallow hard.
This is the filthiest fantasy brought to life. I can’t stop staring at the two of us together. We look good—more than good. Royal.
His large hand settles on my belly, and my core pulses. This dress didn’t come with underwear, and it’d be too easy for him to slip a hand underneath and find out exactly how aroused I am. I wouldn’t stop him if he tried.
“I thought you were more of a little black dress type,” I say to break the spell.
A zap of electricity goes straight to my heat, and I don’t know if it came from him, or if it was just static, but I’m panting.
Seth winks at me in the mirror. “Any man that wouldn’t cover you in gold is a fool.”
Chapter 13
Ready for it?
DEVI
“Welcome to Wintermere, cousins,” Elio announces, his voice carrying down the hallway just as Seth and I prepare to make our entrance.
The prince extends his arm, and I take it, eager to ruin Freya’s day. Inside the ballroom, the checkered windows stretch nearly to the ceiling, their panes clear for once, offering an unobstructed view of the gardens beyond. Crystal chandeliers hang from a vaulted ceiling painted with the Fall of the Mist-King mural—the same one we have in Spring. Once a reminder of past mistakes that nearly destroyed the Fae, it now lurks above our head ominously, with a new Mist King ready to claim a power that laid dormant for generations. A long bar, carved from ice, stretches along one side of the room, the bottles behind it glowing in shades of orange, blue, and green.
The delegation from the Red Forest is already here, huddled in the back and cloaked in layers of fine silk and brocade. A bunch of Winter High Fae make up the numbers, some of them already dancing.
Percy flies to meet us, looking enchanting in his fresh midnight-blue suit. His hair is slicked over his head, and Seth whistles beside me. “Looking hot, Perce.”
Percy ignores the compliment. “The new Red queen is here.”
I examine the Red Fae at the center of the katana-wielding bodyguards. She’s a stranger, but the infamous Red circlet sits on her head, the accessory propped like a bloody halo atop her smooth auburn hair. Living ironwood roots from the Lorntre tree are weaved in its frame, intertwined with bands of dark metal. Crimson sap glimmers along the twigs, matching the deep red stones set at the front.
Males do not grow on Red soil, so all pure-blooded Red Fae are females. How they manage to have more children is a mystery, and even Mabel never revealed that detail of her heritage. The Lorntre, the sacred tree of the Red Forest, has been sealed off ever since the new religion declared war on the witches of Lorntre’s Hollow. Long before I was born, Mabel had no choice but to flee into exile with her kin to escape slaughter.
This could be an opportunity to discover more about the Red priestesses and help Mabel avoid their scrutiny, but they say the secrets of the Red Forest can only be written down in blood.
Percy points to the other side of the ballroom. “The Summer King and Queen have also arrived, but there’s no sign of the usurper.”
“You mean my mother,” Seth corrects him.
Percy turns up his nose at my improbable fiancée. “No sign of Seth’s mother,the usurper.
Seth lets out a dramatic sigh. “I thought we were becoming friends…”
