Page 5 of The Fallen Fae King

Too late.

My friends unite to snatch up handfuls of petals and hurl them in my face.

I splutter.

“Respectful enough, Your Majesty?” Ciara drags me down next to her in the bed of blossoms.

I laugh, as Elatha pins me on the other side, rubbing sweet blossoms in my face.

How could I become too big for my fae boots with these two as friends?

“Aye, about right.” I scrunch up my nose. “I think I smell sweet enough.”

“A few finishing touches.” Elatha’s blue eyes narrow.

Uh-oh.

She picks up a handful of lavender petals.

I study the freckles across the bridge of her nose and sharp cheekbones as she leans closer. Her brunette hair is wound into three long braids around her head, while the fourth trails down her back to her ankles.

Joy sings through me.

Elatha carefully threads the petals into my hair. “Your crown.”

She throws herself onto her back next to me with a satisfied smile.

I wish that I could lie like this, staring up at the sun through the branches of the tree, only ever wearing a crown crafted out of blossoms.

“How handsome,” Ciara teases.

“I am god-like.” I preen.

Ciara snorts.

Rude.

Contentment settles over me.

“One day,” Elatha boasts, “I will forge a new crown for you just like my da made the one that King Branna wears.”

My expression clouds. “I don’t want to talk about that.”

Hurt flashes across her face. “Why? Don’t you want me to work for you? My family have been royal artisans for generations. I’m loyal to you and⁠—”

I sit up sharply, brushing the petal crown off my head. “I hate being a prince. For my job, someone must die. I don’t want the Crown.”

My chest is tight.

Elatha pales.

Ciara instantly reaches to grab my hand.

“I’m sorry.” Elatha wraps her wings around me. “I didn’t mean⁠—”

“Da isn’t going anywhere,” I say, fiercely. “He isn’t gone.”

Elatha strokes me with her wing.