Page 18

We walked silently for several minutes before I noticed spectators—first, dancing orbs and fairy lights, then movement among the sea oats, and finally, crowds of seelie court fae like we saw in the marketplace. They were tall with pointed ears and beautiful, so beautiful. Their lives were tenfold our own. Why were they all here? Why were they watching us?

"What are you, some kind of prince?" I grumbled.

He looked down at me and grinned. "Darling, I’m a king."

I swallowed back my astonishment. His kind couldn’t lie, or so the stories said. In fact, hadn’t a selkie just called him king, too? I had assumed it was a nickname. But no, apparently, it was actually true.

My captor wasn’t just any fae–he was their king! A thrill of fear shot up my spine. This was so much worse than I had realized. Even while I was catastrophizing, a small part of my brain thought, Well, Father, you got your wish. I’m marrying royalty! Unwittingly, a laugh escaped my lips.

He looked down at me with a furrowed brow. "Is something amusing?"

"Nothing at all," I said quickly.

"What forked tongues you mortals possess to lie with such ease," he said, not bothering to hide his disgust.

"Your kind deceive with equal measure, my king," I spat back with venom. "Let us not forget, if you had not concealed your identity and obfuscated your words, I wouldn’t be here at all!"

For a moment, he said nothing, and neither did I. We walked in icy silence as I hoped not to collapse. My muscles were shaking from fatigue. I had fought the water sprites with everything I had, trying to escape the cold, murky depths of the ocean and a watery grave.

Finally, he looked down at me and cocked an eyebrow as if daring me to reply. "Any other faults you wish to lay at my door?"

I don’t know what came over me, but I grinned sweetly up at him. "Do fae kings often neglect to provide their betrothed with an engagement ring, or does your kind marry so often you can’t be bothered?" Apparently, nearly drowning had made me reckless. I never spoke so freely at home, and I had been cautioned since childhood not to anger the fae.

But he wasn’t angry. He tilted back his head and started laughing. "A ring? Really? You mortals are so traditional. Still, let no one say I am an inattentive husband." He raised one hand into the air, and the sky darkened above us.

An ominous feeling fluttered in my stomach, and the little hairs on my arms stood straight up. I immediately regretted antagonizing him.

He jerked his hand downward, and lightning struck the sand just feet ahead of us.

I gasped and stumbled backward. My hand on my chest, I asked, "What are you doing? Are you trying to kill us?"

He chuckled. "My lightning won’t hurt you, and it certainly won’t hurt me."

He stepped forward, knelt on the ground, and scooped up a smoldering lump of sand. He blew on it, and the charred sand drifted away, revealing the most beautiful piece of sea glass I had ever beheld.

"There," he said, polishing it on the hem of his tunic. "I’ll have the smiths set it. You can choose whatever precious metal you desire. Add gems, pearls, shells, anything you wish."

He opened my hand, dropped the smooth glass in my palm, and wrapped his hand around mine. For a moment, he was quiet—devoid of his chuckles and bravado. He studied me, slowly and carefully.

I shivered.

"You’re cold," he realized.

I was, but it wasn’t the reason I had shivered.

My eyes darted once more to our spectators, lining the sand dunes. The beach had narrowed, and they were even closer now.

In an effort to regain some sense of control, I said, "I don’t suppose you have a cloak, your majesty?" I dripped as much condescension as possible into the last word. Anything to belie my true fear.

Of course, he noticed my eyes had drifted to the crowd. He made a small sound in the back of his throat, a kind of hmm.

Then, he swept me off the ground and into his arms. I let out a loud squeak of surprise but discovered I was instantly warmer. It was as if I were sitting by a fireside. A fae glamour, perhaps? In his warm, muscular arms, pressed against his hard chest with nothing but wet fabric to separate us, my reckless heart skipped a beat.

Together, we were the portrait of romantic bliss. He was the dashing bridegroom sweeping his bride across the threshold of our new home. There was only one little problem… Even if he had saved me from drowning, presented me with the most beautiful sea glass I had ever seen, and warmed me with his nice, toasty glamour, I still didn’t want to marry him. I hated the fae that had plagued my kingdom with storms and stolen my sister, and I hated him most of all. He had taken me from my family and my duty.

I glared up at him.

He grinned down at me, unfazed by the red hot coal of my hatred. Perhaps even enjoying it. Somehow, the effect reminded me of a mischievous, little boy. It made his stupid ears even pointier.