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Ignoring the room’s tension, Rainer deposits Fern into the chair beside him. She pouts, but he ignores her, leaning forward to grab a chocolate-covered doughnut. He chews methodically while everyone stares at him waiting to see what he’ll do. As I turn to leave, he swallows and catches my eyes. Waves of heat flutter through my stomach.
A flashback to last night’s dream passes through my mind, and I break eye contact before he can see the desire building in me, or worse, before Ken can scent it. I pray Rainer forgot what he saw me doing last night.
My blush deepens at the thought. Sure, the prince has the most kissable lips, hair I want to run my fingers through, and penetrating, icy eyes that twist my stomach into knots, but he’s a right bastard.
Ken clears his throat, giving me a humored look. My face burns so hot that I fear I might pass out. I hate all the eyes on me.
“Sit. Have a doughnut.” Rainer’s lips twitch as he beckons to the chair on his left—the one Fern now sits in with her arms crossed and a glare on her face. “I insist.”
“That seat is taken,” I say stupidly. “And I’m not sitting on your lap.”
Rainer says, “She was just leaving.”
Fern narrows her eyes at me. It’s one thing for the fae to be cruel, but I refuse to take the attitude from another human woman—someone who should understand how difficult it is to fit in here.
“Sit,” Rainer commands.
“No,” I say.
Someone inhales sharply, and there’s a murmur from the table. I snag a doughnut before retreating and striding toward the archway.
“Run away now.” Fern laughs. Her words are slurred, and I can tell she’s high on something. It brings out her mean side. “You don’t belong here.”
“Shut it,” Rainer growls.
“Showing favorites now, Rainer?” Eoin asks.
It takes a few deep breaths to ignore Fern’s taunting. Slowly, I turn back to the table.
“You know what? You’re right, Fern. I don’t belong here.” I look to Rainer next. “And I am pathetic. I am weak. Just like you all constantly remind me. Is that what you want to hear? Does that make you happy?”
“Oh, no, little human,” Ken mutters with a shake of his head.
I grip my purple skirts, shaking them out aggressively. “This is just one big joke to you all. Playing with me like some sort of living, breathing toy." A dolly. "Sure, feck with the human for a few faerie laughs.”
“She said feck,” Ken whispers, leaning forward with wide eyes. “I think she’s mad.”
Rainer frowns, but when his eyes dart back to Eoin—who’s scrutinizing him—he carefully schools his expression and turns back to me.
I wait for anyone to say something, anything, to tell me that I’m more than a joke to them.
I wait for Rainer to stick up for me, to show me the kind side of him.
“Is it true?” I whisper, my voice cracking. “I’m just here for your entertainment?”
Another beat stretches by. Eoin gives Rainer a smug grin, waiting for his response.
“Tell us, Prince of Fear,” Eoin says, taking a quick sip of his wine, “does this human mean something to you?”
“No.” Rainer’s tone is devoid of emotion. He locks eyes with me, and I feel like I’m drowning, stuck beneath the surface with no air. “Like she said, she’s here for entertainment and nothing else.”
My heart shatters in my chest.
Eoin points at Fern. “And what of that one?”
“She’s good for one purpose, and one purpose only,” Rainer says, without sparring her a glance.
Fern’s cheeks burn bright red, but she says nothing. When she reaches for a glass of wine, Rainer puts up a hand, blocking her.
