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Severin

My hands skim the treetops as I fly over the forest, sending pulses of magic into the plants to heal them and to bind me to this land in a claim far more visceral than any deed, though that will prove unnecessary once I marry Hannah.

Her smile fills my mind, brighter than the sunlight dropping toward the western horizon. In all my years, I’ve been looked at with fear or anger or occasionally lust. I’ve never been looked at with adoration. Here I am, undone by one such glance from a pair of beautiful brown eyes.

I set down in the palace garden, right on the small footbridge where I stood with my betrothed.

As soon as my shadow wings retract, I send a wave of healing plant magic washing outward like ripples from a pebble dropped into a pond.

The flowers rustle with contentment, and I can feel them growing in a joyful hum that resonates back to me .

“Severin.” Varyn strides out of the palace, the evening light catching on his silver-white hair. “I have news.”

“A baker?” This would be the perfect ending to my day.

“What? No.” His footsteps echo on the wood as he comes to a halt beside me. “I’ve got a list of contestants for the bride trials.”

“Tell me.”

“First off, the gnomes from Kranthall sent a contender.”

I grunt. Their realm is mountainous, with them living in large underground cities. It’s better than Avalon, but it doesn’t have forests such as the one around Ferndale Falls.

Yet gnomes also like to establish mines in every realm. “They must desire a political alliance, in order to mine in Avalon,” I say.

“How better than to marry one of their own to its king?” Varyn nods. “The next is a different story. A wood nymph entered the contest.”

“What realm do they hale from?” Because if it’s a magical realm of Faerie that’s still lush with life, it would provide another place to settle if Earth doesn’t work out.

“Alarria.”

“Ah.” There goes that idea. This wood nymph is from the one realm I can’t live in. Earth is still my best hope.

“They’re looking to improve their standing and rise in the ranks of the powerful,” he says. Then Varyn’s face pinches, which means bad news.

“Out with it. Are these all who’ve entered?

” Two might be better than nothing, but it’s still a bit of a slap in the face.

In times past, there would have been half a dozen.

Where are the orcs, the dragons? It’s as telling who hasn’t joined the competition as who has—they don’t trust the shadow fae.

“There’s one more.” He lets out a breath. “Meloria.”

“What? How can this be?” Shock ripples through me. “She’s one of my people. Meloria can’t represent another group of fae!”

“She left over a week ago and travelled the realms until she found one of the dead ones. She claimed it and named herself queen.”

“That’s preposterous! If she wins the bride trials, she’ll doom the shadow fae. We’ll have to leave Earth, and a fully dead realm is worse even than Avalon.”

“I don’t think she cares.” He shrugs. “She’s angry you rejected her.”

When Meloria came to me two weeks ago to propose we marry, I thought it was in jest. We used one another to slake our physical thirsts while under the control of the Dark God but could otherwise barely stand each other.

“There was never anything real between us. She’s incapable of any warmer feeling. ”

“She’s capable of one.” Varyn’s ice-blue eyes stop dancing with mirth, growing serious. “She’s capable of anger. It turns out Daigan was right. Your little human had better watch her back.”

My jaw hardens. Technically, the trials aren’t dangerous. Also, the contest’s rules forbid me from interfering in any way. Yet the thought of Hannah in danger stirs an unusual protectiveness in me.

Thankfully, shadow fae know how to bend rules. I will do whatever it takes to aid and protect Hannah.

The next evening, the fae contestants and their representatives present themselves to me in a formal reception held in the throne room.

The gnome arrives first, tumbling down the long aisle in a series of cartwheels and flips. She comes to a halt, balanced in front of me on one tiptoe, with her arms and other leg lifted in a perfect arabesque.

Although as short as any of her kind, she’s clearly physically strong, which is the gnomish standard for beauty.

Her light-green face is pretty, her white hair topped with a moss cap sprinkled with tiny white flowers, her formal clothes made only of blue birch leaves.

The gnomes, it seems, are taking the competition seriously, sending one of their finest.

I tip my head, acknowledging the respect she pays me.

Her representative follows, doing several leaping front rolls to eat the distance without much fuss, or at least as little fuss as a gnome can show.

He’s older, with the bottom half of his light-green face covered by a heavy white beard.

“King Severin.” He bows, then gestures toward the young woman.

“The gnomes of Kranthall present you with your future bride.”

“Rather presumptuous.” I arch an eyebrow.

She lifts her chin. “I do not mean to lose.”

It doesn’t ring true. Gnomes are horrible gossips. There’s no way these two don’t already know about my betrothal, since I bought Hannah’s ring from gnomes. They know I’ll choose Hannah, so this is about something else.

“What is your name?” I ask. It’s a test. Like many of the smaller fae, gnomes do not give their real names lightly.

It’s like Diamond at Bling It On—she told us we could call her that name, but she didn’t say it was her real one.

This gnome will offer her true name if she truly wants to marry me. If she doesn’t…

“You may call me Ruby.”

Her phrasing makes it clear it’s not her real name. What could they be playing at?

Before I can tease out any answers, the wood nymphs arrive.

Tall and slender, the two women move with the grace of majestic trees swaying gently in a breeze.

They seem to float down the aisle, their long, willow-leaf hair rippling.

Green-leaf clothing sets off their skin, which is the light linen of freshly cut wood.

“King Severin.” The older nymph sinks into a deep curtsy. “The wood nymphs of Alarria present to you Elowen.”

As soon as my eyes turn to the younger woman, she drops into an equally graceful curtsy. “Your Majesty.” She’s a pretty thing, with a long, oval face and an air of haunting sadness about her that probably makes most men long to protect her.

I am, however, not most men. The shadow fae in me sees her display as a weakness. If there’s a sturdy tree trunk under that facade, I can’t see it. Elowen is the kind of woman I could break far too easily .

Still, her coming here means the wood nymphs are ready to be allies, and I cannot offend. I tip my head to her. “Elowen.”

A stir at the doors of the room grabs everyone’s attention.

A shadow fae strides into view, a tall male in the first flush of adulthood, with lightly tanned skin and long brown hair.

He wears fighting leathers, the vest baring his shadow-tattooed arms. His cocky look of disdain withers beneath my hard stare, and by the time he stops in front of my throne, uncertainty stains his eyes.

Meloria appears, framed by the doors and her shadow wings.

Instead of walking down the aisle, she flies, using the faintest movements of her wings to show off her control.

Her strength attracted my attention years ago, yet I now know it’s a hard, unyielding strength.

One that doesn’t allow for real emotion.

A long-term relationship with her would be a hollow thing.

She hovers for a moment before touching down, her long blonde hair floating around her face. Her beautiful features are chiseled with cold perfection, and she wears fighting leathers, every inch the warrior queen.

The youth at her side rallies enough to speak. “King Severin.” He bows. “I present to you Queen Meloria of Markan.”

Markan, the dead realm my ex-lover thinks to damn me to.

Fuck no.

My lips pull back from my teeth in a snarl. “So you not only defect, you also steal young pups from my kennel. How many have you lured to your realm? ”

“Don’t be such a poor loser, darling,” Meloria says. “It’s only a handful.”

I make note to have Daigan look into who’s missing from Avalon, expecting a list of more like the young man before me—those easily lured by the promise of her bed.

“If they were foolish enough to follow you, I’ve lost nothing,” I say. “Why are you here?”

“To be queen.”

“Did my ears deceive me? Did your representative not already name you such?”

Anger breaks through the pale-blue ice of her eyes for a flickering second before being hidden again. We both know she’s currently queen of nothing. Then she glances at Ruby and Elowen, her expression dismissive. “I will win.”

I smirk at her, loving the horrified shock that pinches her face when I say, “To do that, you’ll have to best my betrothed.”