Page 40 of Fae Trials

The Summer Court prince stood to one side, allowing Prince Rory to make his appearance. With another invisible drum roll, Prince Rory shook his burnt orange hair as though he was in a shampoo commercial. My stupid wings fluttered so hard, they created a gust of wind that blew my hair across my face.

“They’re just so handsome,” Flora said with a sigh.

“No.” I shook my head for emphasis, and my wings glowed bright enough to light up the entire table.

Prince Rory blew a kiss to the watchers, making me snarl. He was enjoying every minute of the attention.

Helen leaned into my side. “Watch out for that one. Everyone thinks he’s the quietest and the most unassuming, but beneath that relaxed exterior is a calculating mind.”

“Yeah.” Ten minutes with that guy, and I already knew he was the worst of the quartet. While the others probably wanted to get rid of me, Prince Rory was forcing me to stay.

The drumroll started again, and Prince Bradwell walked in with a blank expression, looking like his brothers had coerced him into this ridiculous display.

Now that I was sitting and not blinded by panic, I leaned forward for a better look at the Spring Court Prince. On most men, long cerise hair would look effeminate, but not Prince Bradwell. Steel-colored highlights broke up the pinkish shade, giving his hair the look of a sword that had been stained with the blood of his enemies.

The pulse between my legs pounded at the magnificent sight, and I squeezed my legs together, reminding my body that we were in the worst trouble of our lives. Prince Bradwell’s wings were also cerise but divided by masculine, indigo lines with brilliant white spots glowing at the edges.

“Rumor has it that Prince Bradwell and Gazania have already consummated their mating bond,” whispered Flora.

My gaze zipped across the room to Lady Gala’s table, where the faerie with the mahogany skin beamed at Prince Bradwell. Her wings looked like they were made of liquid flame, and they glowed brighter than all the others’.

“If they’re already bonded, why did his wings glow for me?” I asked.

“It could be the fates playing tricks,” Helen said, sounding hopeful.

I narrowed my eyes. Did she also think I had carried out black magic?

Prince Bradwell stood to the side, and before the drumroll could start up again, Prince Caulden strode in with his arms crossed, and his wings retracted.

“Prince Caulden and Salix were best friends when we were all little,” said Helen. “He’s very protective of her, but I’m not sure their love is romantic.”

My gaze darted back to the Fated’s table, where the green-haired faerie gave Prince Caulden a soft smile, making his cold expression melt. A heartbeat later, he turned a scowl at the other princes.

I glanced at the Summer Prince, whose lips tightened with annoyance. Leaning forward, I rubbed my chin, wondering if I could take advantage of the brothers’ different personalities.

Prince August spread his arms wide. “Fated mates, will you please rise.”

Lady Gala and her cohort flapped their glowing wings and flew six feet above the table, looking like contestants for a supernatural beauty contest. My lips parted, and an awed breath escaped my lungs. Every one of the fated belonged on the arm of a faerie prince.

“You too!” Helen elbowed me in the ribs and flicked her head toward the princes.

Everyone in the dining room, including the princes and the Fated, stared in our direction. Heat rose to my cheeks. This entire display was because I had arrived and messed things up. I also had to stand.

“Oh, right.” I scraped my chair back and stood.

“The poor halfling can’t fly,” said Lady Gala.

“She’s only good for show,” added Lady Aster.

A few students around the tables giggled.

I clenched my teeth. When would we get round to the killing part? My fists itched to punch their perfect noses out of joint.

A semi-awkward silence stretched out. Perhaps they all wanted me to prove that I could fly, but that wasn’t going to happen. I folded my arms across my chest and shuffled on my feet, waiting for everyone to stop gaping.

Prince August walked around the tables and past the doors that led to the kitchen. As his brothers followed his lead, Pokeweed stepped out. Behind him was a familiar figure, but his head was bowed.

“Elijah?” His name left my lips like a whisper.