Page 37 of The Maleficent Faerie
“Very well.” Kyan moves to sit closer to Andras, yielding his place to me.
I walk around to his spot and hitch up my skirts so I can sit astride the bench. Then I prop my elbow on the table.
Vandel looks from his own freckled arm with its bulging bicep to my slim, toned arm. “Haven’t you suffered enough embarrassment for one day, Your Highness?” The last two words carry a faintly mocking twist.
“Not nearly enough,” I grit out, cupping the fingers of my right hand. “Come on, dicklet. Show me what you can do.”
Two of the other knights snicker, and Vandel’s face turns a shade redder. He clamps his right hand around mine. “On the count of three. Ember?”
Ember counts, and when he says “three,” I tense my right arm, exerting pressure against Vandel’s palm.
I may have lost everything else, but this body is still mine. I worked for this strength, this skill. It belongs to me.
Or at least, I hope it does. I do feel slightly weaker with my rings gone. Perhaps one of them enhanced the strength I already possessed, to augment the illusion of my Fae nature. All the more reason I should test myself, to discover the true limits of my body.
Vandel is human, which means I stand a better chance of beating him than I would with the Fae knights. But there’s plenty of power in his grip; it’s going to be close.
“Get him, Princess,” Andras bursts out. “Take him down!”
“He’ll save his best strength until you tire,” Kyan warns me.
I’m not as strong as I was, that’s for certain. But thankfully most of my strength is still there. Muscle and sinew, not magic.
“Pin her!” Reehan is leaning across the table, pounding on the wood in his eagerness. His blond hair tumbles around his face, and his eyes are brightly intense. “What’s taking you so long, Van? Down with the Caennith!”
At his urging, Vandel presses me harder. I yield a little, and a bellow of delight breaks from Reehan and Ember.
But the yielding was a calculated move on my part. I watch Vandel’s face, and when he grins at his friends, I strike.
I throw all my rage into my arm, my shoulder, my hand. Strong as Vandel is, the current of anger and violence inside me far outmatches him. With a cry of agonized fury I force his arm back until it’s hovering just above the table.
He’s groaning, trying to keep from giving me that last bit of space—but with another yell I slam his arm against the wood.
“Yes!” I shout, leaping up and wringing out my arm. “That’s how it’s fucking done!”
“I was tired from wrestling Kyan,” Vandel complains, but Ember leans over the table, bat-wings flared, and smacks him on the back of the head. “No excuses, Van. Goddess, both you and Kyan are such poor losers.”
“Maybeyou’rea better loser.” I lower my lashes, a challenge in my hooded eyes as I meet his gaze. “Care to try me?”
His full lips curve in a grim smile. “I accept.”
“But first, we drink again!” Reehan shouts.
Cups are refilled, and I throw back three burning swallows of the liquor before switching to Ember’s side of the table. We agree to do left arms this time, and I’m grateful that my trainers insisted I practice with both sides of my body, no matter which hand I preferred.
Did any of them ever suspect who I was? I remember a few guards, tutors, and trainers disappearing suddenly from time to time. Dawn and I were told they’d been reassigned. I see those events in a different light now, and I can’t help wondering…
Too much wondering. I need to drink more.
I put up a good effort against Ember in the arm-wrestling match, but he is Fae, and he conquers me after a few minutes of ferocious straining. We drink again, and somehow I end up seated on the table, nibbling almonds and cold roast pork, drinking whatever the knights pour for me.
Fire trickles along my veins, and my chest burns with the liquor. A buzzing heat soars into my head and softens the edges of all the thoughts that have lacerated my mind since the King broke my glamour.
I’m not sure what I’ve been drinking, but it hasn’t all been wine. There’s stronger stuff in some of these cups.
The musicians begin a soaring dance tune, deeper and wilder than the ones I’ve heard in Caennith. It twines with the strings of my heart, tugging on them unbearably. My body wants to bend with that melody, to curve and sway and shudder along with its crests and dives.
“Let’s dance,” I say, jumping up on the bench.
