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The truth was I didn’t want to stop on the patio. I wanted to keep going. I wanted to go deeper and deeper into the canopy of trees and underbrush until I could scarcely find my way back again.
It was a wicked thought. My father, my sister, my kingdom–they all needed me.
Maggie stomped on my foot, startling me away from my thoughts and back into the ballroom. "Ow!" I cried.
Lady Cat blinked at me in concern. "Are you quite alright, princess?"
"I, um, yes. I mean no..."
My sister, always a better liar, came to my rescue. "Oh, she looks positively faint. She really should sit down."
"It must be the heat," Lady Cat lamented. "Get her a glass of something cool and have her rest for at least two dances."
My sister bobbed her head obediently. "Yes, Lady Cat–Catherine," she corrected herself.
We hurried away. A line had formed at the punch bowl where men and women were imbibing perhaps more than was socially acceptable in their quest to beat the heat. The temperature would have been unbearable if it weren’t for the open doors and windows, allowing a distant ocean breeze to ebb and flow.
Unfortunately, we walked straight into another obstacle, our father. Tonight he was acting as king, host, and apparently matchmaker. He wasn’t alone. By his side stood a stout, strong man, likely in his mid-forties.
Upon spotting us, my father opened his arms in welcome. I tried not to cringe. I knew exactly who this man was–another suitor.
"Ah, my two darling daughters. At last. Allow me to introduce our guest, Regent Callahan. He has traveled far to be here with us tonight." My father held my gaze meaningfully. His intent was clear. This man was an advantageous match, and I should act accordingly.
I forced my lips into a smile and inclined my head in deference. "If I’m not mistaken, your dress denotes you are from Frost Haven. Is that so?"
He looked pleased that I knew something about him. Encouraged, his eyes ran up and down my figure appraisingly. I supposed he liked what he saw because he licked his lips and asked, "Might I claim your next dance?"
My stomach turned. This man was more than twice my age, and everything about him felt wrong. I didn’t like the way he looked at me, lingering on my breasts. I didn’t want to dance with him. I certainly didn’t want to marry him.
But our riches wouldn’t last forever. The fae’s storms ravaged our shores. The cost to rebuild and survive was high. Our kingdom had no male heir and no clear line of succession.
And so, I danced.
CHAPTER 2
The Fae King
Heavy is the head that wears the crown. No truer words have ever been spoken, especially when one is a twice-cursed fae king with more adversaries than dinner plates.
I was trying to relax in my bedchamber and enjoy the blissful nothingness of a goblet of wine. Yet, my oldest friend and most loyal servant was insistent that I listen to him.
"Your council of advisors is talking," he warned.
I sighed and stared out at the moonlight dancing across the distant ocean waves. Couldn’t my council just leave me in peace? Didn’t they have enough years of experience and political finesse to leave me alone for just a few days?
But my friend, Harry, wasn’t going to let this go, so I replied, "Isn’t that what advisors are supposed to do?"
He ran a nervous hand through his light brown curly hair. "That’s not-"
I held up my hand. "Peace, Harry. I understand your intent. What did they call me this time? A drunk, a womanizer, a worthless heir? I’ve heard it all before."
Of course, I had. It was part of my plan. If they believed I was a spoiled king who overindulged, they might brush away my frequent absences. I couldn’t let any of them know how I truly spent my days.
Harry shook his head. "That’s not what they’re saying."
I heard the sliver of fear in his tone, and I turned to face him. We’d known each other since we were boys. I knew that tone, and it spelled trouble. "What are they saying?" I prompted.
"Soul rot." The words slipped through his teeth like poison. "They believed you may have soul rot, my king."
