Page 86 of The Maleficent Faerie
My eyes blink open.
I’m in a strange room with a peaked ceiling. A room at the top of a tower, maybe?
As I sit up, silken sheets slide from my body. I’m wearing an inky gown, like a river of midnight, with lace along the neck and sleeves.
On the bed lies a broad-shouldered figure, on his side, facing me, with his dark wings draping off the edge of the mattress. Four horns arch from his smooth skull. Scars outline the edges of his face, while more scars decorate his throat and the part of his pale chest that shows through the V of his torn black robes. His hands are marked too—white scars against Void-darkened skin.
Malec. Something terrible happened to him—
He’s asleep, and I’m awake—and that means—
The door of the bedroom creaks open, and a familiar face peers in.
“Andras,” I gasp. “What is happening? What does this mean? Did the King—did he kiss me? Is that why he’s—oh goddess. Oh shit.” Frantically I pat Malec’s scarred face. “No, no, no—please—shit, you impossible idiot, why would you do this?”
“He took your place,” Andras says quietly. “There is more to tell you, but only when you’re ready.”
“But—Dawn,” I gasp. “He was going to ask Dawn to do it, and then he was going to awaken her…”
“I tried.” The door opens wider. The second figure standing there is as familiar as sunshine, as dear to me as my own self.
“Dawn.” Tears burst from my eyes, and sobs lurch from my throat as Dawn flings herself at me. I clutch her like she’s my tether to life.
“I’m sorry,” I sob, over and over. “I’m so sorry.”
“No,” she hisses fiercely. “You did nothing. It was them, the Royals and the Regents. They were cruel to both of us. I love you, you know that. I always will. And you’re all right now, because he—” She glances at the handsome, sleeping face of the Void King.
I stare at his pale hand arched against the sheets—at those strong fingers that caressed me so skillfully, so worshipfully. The hand that spanked my ass, broke my glamour, cupped my chin, stroked my hair, held me securely as we flew through the night.
Pulling away from Dawn, I pick up that hand, now laced with fine scars.
“He loves me best of all,” I whisper.
Dawn’s smile breaks through the tears on her face. “Yes, he does. And it’s strange… but it’s wonderful, Aura.”
I lift the King’s hand, kissing each of his knuckles before laying it gently back down. Then I turn to Andras. “Tell me everything.”
ONE MONTH LATER
Wingless and wordless, I stand before a silver mirror, staring at the dark purple gown that flows from my shoulders to the floor. The palace seamstress dithered between pink and blue before I selected this fabric—a deep, rich, royal hue, softened by a black gauze layer dotted with scintillating crystals. Sheer sleeves part at my shoulders and trail down to mingle with the skirts pooling on the polished floor.
My maid brushes out a few locks of my golden hair before arranging them over my shoulder and smoothing the rest of the curls that tumble down my back.
A quick rap of knuckles at the door of the dressing room, and Dawn enters. She’s clad in the fashion of the Daenallan nobility, with peaked puffy shoulders on her dress and a cascade of ebony-and-gold beaded necklaces down her front. She seems far more comfortable in her role as a Royal Advisor than I am in my latest identity.
“They’re here.” Her eyes meet mine in the mirror. “They actually came.”
“Of course they did.” I adjust the rings on my fingers. “It’s their daughter’s twenty-fifth birthday.”
She shakes her head. “Maybe you were certain they’d show up, but I wasn’t. It has taken us weeks to convince them you’re in control here, that they’re safe.”
“And those weeks gave us time for other important preparations. Hold our guests at the palace entrance, would you, Dawn?”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
“I told you not to call me that.”
She smirks, but her smile drops quickly. “Are you all right, Aura? This noonday celebration—it’s an immense number of people, most of whom hate each other. And you have to address them all. You’ve prepared notes, haven’t you? Please tell me you have.”
