Page 11 of Fae Games

My mouth fell open. “Did you see that?”

“What?” asked Flora.

“They’re laughing at their friend.”

Flora leaned forward and stared at the Fated’s table. “It’s to be expected in the Royal Courts. They consider any sign of weakness and opportunity to cull an ally.”

A pixie flew over to me and held up a tray containing gate-shaped waffles topped with melted cheese and a mix of chopped tomatoes, red onions, and avocados.

I peered down at the waffles. “Which one contains poison?”

“None,” he replied.

“Do you know for certain, or are you just saying that because you didn’t see anyone put the poison in?”

The pixie huffed. “I made these breakfast gates, and they are not poisoned!”

“They can’t lie,” said Flora. “I’ll even take a bite of one if you want.”

“It’s okay.” I took a waffle from the middle. “Thanks.”

The pixie raised his little nose in the air and flew to another table on bumblebee wings that moved so fast they became a blur of white. I stared after the creature, willing myself not to feel bad. One of them had tried to poison me before and laughed in my face when she’d gotten caught.

“Candidates have an entire day to dazzle us with their finery,” said the queen.

“Finery?” I asked.

“Some kind of gown,” said Flora. “If you ask a pixie nicely, they might make you something.”

I swept my gaze to the pixie I implied had doctored my food with poison. He hovered in a crowd of other pixies, who all turned to me with fury in their huge eyes. I doubted that any of them would make me a gown, the bloody hypocrites.

We spent the rest of breakfast listening to King Oberon talk about the importance of not falling to the temptation of dark magic to achieve shortcuts in life. It was a good speech, one that he could have given in Doolish Town Square.

When he talked about the dark ones who were willing to bargain for terrible prices, a pang of sadness lanced through my chest. If only Sicily had heard that on the fateful day she had decided to visit the bargain circle. We’d had a plan—to escape to Balley Chashtal. Why did she think I would want a grander life than that?

The door to the kitchen opened, and Elijah stepped out, clad in a white janitor’s uniform and holding a mop and bucket. A mix of fury and disgust rippled up my throat. All the time I had known that faery, he had given me the impression that he was a supervisor with several employees working underneath him.

Flora leaned into my side. “Is that the guy who—”

“Yes,” I snapped, my skin flaring with prickly heat.

She wrinkled her nose. “Look at his wings. Why would you consort with such a lower being?”

“The same reason why high faeries consort with humans, I suppose.” The words tumbled from my mouth. “Did you ever ask your father?” My mouth clicked shut. Why the hell had I said something so nasty?

Flora’s eyes widened. “You’re no better than me.”

“I know.” Guilt tightened my throat. “Sorry. I don’t know what came over me.”

Flora’s dark eyes hardened. “The princes?”

I winced. Ouch. I deserved that. She probably thought I was being stuck up because I was in a contest to win an opportunity to mate with one of four members of the royal family. Or it was a reference to having won one of the rounds by being the only candidate wanton enough to give a blowjob.

She twisted around with a huff and bit into her waffle. My shoulders sagged. I knew why I’d made that bitchy comment. I wasn’t even a half-blood but the lowest of the low: a human. Hearing her imply that Elijah was inferior because of his dragonfly wings set a nerve on fire.

I blew out a breath. At the rate I was pissing people off, there wouldn’t be a single person on my side left.

My gaze wandered back to Elijah, the male who had been an important part of my life for three years and no longer remembered me. It still didn’t excuse playing along with the Fated’s humiliating plan for my disqualification.