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T he half-fae, half-human rushed to keep up with me. She didn’t walk at my side, but she didn’t walk behind me either—more like half a step behind me while mostly at my side.

The twins actually dedicating any of their time to her safety would solve several problems at once. They would finally be occupied with something they considered important that didn’t annoy me, and she… she would be safer. Despite their frequently obnoxious behavior, the two elves were generally popular and well-liked. Having them on her side would go a long way to discouraging others from tormenting her.

My next announcement should help as well.

A few moments before we reached the dining hall, she gasped and stopped abruptly. She clutched a hand to her chest, but I did not sense any pain or fear. “What is it?” I asked.

She rubbed her chest slowly. The effects of the magic-cancelling cuffs should be wearing off, but they should not have hurt her.

Of course, I’d thought that about another fae once too.

“I…” She tipped her big, blue, vulnerable eyes up at me. “I…” She blinked twice and shook her head. “It’s nothing. Where are we going?”

I started walking again. If she would not be forthright with me, I needed to take care of business. “To the dining hall. I’m going to introduce you better than I did this afternoon.” I tried to gauge her reaction without staring at her. She hadn’t said ten words since we’d left the dungeon, but she had been extremely bold and verbose while we’d been down there.

She was unpredictable, and I didn’t like that. She also challenged my decisions and authority, and I didn’t like that either.

And she was fae, a fact that I disliked more than any other. It made everything she said duplicitous, and I was not accustomed to tracking so many hidden meanings.

I needed to remind myself of all those reasons when her blue eyes tugged on my emotions. I only promised her safety if her brother stayed away, and I could not let any lovely eyes create feelings that might compromise those conditions.

I took her through the side door that opened to a small anteroom. A curtain separated us from the back of the raised dais in the dining hall. The dull pulse of dozens of conversations thrummed against the fabric, announcing hundreds of diners still enjoying merry company.

“Come,” I told her just before sauntering through the curtain’s opening and strolling past my table to the front of the dais. Mylo, Fagan, and Aunt Acantha still sat there talking, but they—and every other elf in the hall—silenced themselves, rose, and bowed as I approached the edge of the raised platform.

My impertinent prisoner stood behind me. I stepped to the side and gestured for her to move forward.

Her body stiffened, but she shifted next to me. Some three hundred faces stared at her with varying degrees of horror, anger, and hatred. A handful might have been curious, but there was nothing friendly in them.

I projected my voice magically, letting it carry a deep, serious tone to every ear without losing any potency from yelling. “Elves of Sirun. This fae is here under my protection. If you are concerned about her behavior, you may come see me, but if any of you take it upon yourself to make her uncomfortable or afraid, you will suffer my wrath.”

I passed my gaze from table to table, watching for anyone who might want to argue with me. I saw plenty of scowls and glares at her, but nobody looked like they would violate my instructions.

Satisfied that I would not be made a liar again, I waved my hand at them, returning them to their meals. I intended to sit down at my table again, but my prisoner rushed past me in a blur of blue skirts. She parted the curtains behind us and disappeared.

I dropped a sigh. She’d already become far more work than I’d anticipated when I freed her brother.

Mylo stood up. “Rest, Your Majesty. I’ll watch her.”

I trusted Mylo, but I needed to put the fae somewhere still. And I was curious why she’d just run away.

I gestured Mylo back to his chair. “I’ll need your help with her tomorrow. I can take care of her tonight.”

He sat down, and I slipped through the curtain.

I found her on the other side of the anteroom, sitting on the floor, with her back against the door and her head buried between her arms and her knees.

She wiped her face and looked up when I entered the room.

Wiped her face ? What was this? Was she crying? But I hadn’t felt any pain…

“I’m sorry,” she mumbled, standing up and taking a deep breath. “I couldn’t stay out there a second longer.”

Nothing bad had happened. Nobody even protested my announcement. “Why not?”

Her face morphed with incredulous surprise. “Why not? Did you not see your own people? They all hate me!”

She was not hurt at all then, only… distraught.

She shook her head. “You should have warned me. Told me that I would never have a friend again. That everyone here would hate me just for being part fae.” She narrowed her eyes. “It’s a ridiculous thing to hate a person for, you know. We look exactly the same. If you hadn’t told everyone I was fae, they would have assumed I was an elf.”

“Would you have preferred that?” I asked. “To masquerade as an elf and hide your true identity?”

She sniffed and tugged on a reddish-blonde lock of hair that had fallen in front of her shoulder. “No, I’d rather be known for who I am.”

That was a relief. Anyone who would prefer the deception she’d hinted at could not be trusted. Or perhaps she knew I wouldn’t trust that kind of dishonesty, so she changed her answer.

I shook my head. I wasn’t going to trust her anyway, so it didn’t matter.

But that didn’t change the fact that I didn’t like seeing her stressed.

“If I had warned you of how my people feel about fae earlier, when we were in the meadow with your brother, would it have changed your mind about coming here? Would you have left your brother with me and embraced the freedom of walking away from us?”

She pursed her lips, shook her head again, and pulled harder on that unfortunate lock of hair. “No,” she said. “I would have made the same choice.”

“Then nothing has changed, and I am growing hungry.” I nodded at the curtain. “Come.”

She folded her arms. “No, I’m not going back out there. And I won’t keep following you around like an eager puppy every time you say, ‘Come .’” She exaggerated all her features and mimicked my voice with that last word, like she was mocking me.

Mocking me after all the trouble I had gone through this evening to protect her! I pressed my rising anger down, refusing to allow even smoke to escape my skin.

Instead, I stepped closer to her, looming over her while she pressed her back against the wall. “Oh, really?” I whispered through gritted teeth as I set my hands on the wall next to her shoulders. “You won’t?” Did she not realize that I expected my own people to follow me if I commanded them to?

“No!” she whispered in a rush. “I won’t.” She stared up at me, ignoring the way my arms caged her to the wall. Her bold defiance filled the tiny space between us, pounding on my blood, screaming that I must insist on the respect a king deserved.

She did not drop her gaze, but her breaths sped up as a rush of terror rolled through the bond.

Ashes and flames. If I didn’t have the cursed mistek bond, I wouldn’t have known she was scared.

Well, her near-panting might have hinted at it.

But the fire in her eyes and the passion in her voice did not. She poked a finger into my chest. “It’s demeaning and cruel and, regardless of your short temper, I don’t think you want to force me to accept orders that are degrading.”

I took two steps back, and her anxiety lessened.

Burning ashes and flaming rivers. I hated the relief I felt when my actions made her fear subside. I was a king! Fair and impartial, swift to justice and… and apparently subject to fae manipulation.

“No,” I said, reeling from her insults to my position. “I do not want you to feel degraded, but I am the High King. I give instructions, and my people follow them. And that includes you now.”

The skin around her eyes tightened and the anxiety I’d sensed moments ago burst to life again. “You may be the High King,” she whispered, “but you don’t have to be heartless. You’re not a monster. Rulers can be compassionate.”

I gripped the sword hilt that hung on my waist. I was not heartless, but I was a monster. My iron-fisted control was the only way to protect my people.

But she would never understand that. She wanted to spare punishments and allow second chances. Probably even third and fourth chances. A leniency that would inspire assassins and corrode my kingdom.

No, I could not explain myself in a way she would understand. It was the burden of kings to accept the incorrect judgment of others. So I clenched my teeth and told her, “Come.”