Page 15

Hannah

“I can’t believe we found nothing ,” I moan, when Naomi teleports the three of us to the front door of Severin’s palace for the first bride trial. “All the research we did yesterday and everyone in the Witch Bitch Spicy Book Club looking, and none of it helped.”

I said a bunch of spells, and the only thing I learned is my Latin pronunciation is horrible .

I mixed up a potion, and the only result was I set off the smoke detector.

I even waved around a magic wand of Kayla’s, almost putting out my eye.

“You’ve got me.” Finn paws at my pants leg. “I’m not nothing.”

“You’re right.” I reach down and rub his soft ears. Then I wrap an arm around Naomi in a sideways hug. “I’m lucky to have both of you.”

“I believe in you.” My friend hugs me back, and I want to stay right here forever, where everything is safe and warm.

The huge silver doors swing inward to show an unfamiliar fae. He’s almost as handsome as Severin, which means he’s absolutely gorgeous, with deep-tan skin and long silver hair and tattoos. A midnight blue shirt clings to his broad torso, and his black leather pants look painted on.

“Do all shadow fae look this good?” I whisper to Naomi out of the corner of my mouth. Severin said dozens of his fae would be shopping and eating out in Ferndale Falls on any given day, and if they all look like this, there will be riots.

“Yep,” she says in a normal volume, her tone dry. “And they have superior hearing, too.”

Whoops! My cheeks heat.

“Indeed, we do, Queen Naomi.” He bows.

A tiny jolt of shock goes through me. I know Naomi’s now queen of the orcs of Avalon, but since there are no more orcs in that realm, I keep forgetting.

Also, she’s the friend I’ve known since elementary school who still helps run the family bookshop.

She’s warm and friendly and as unpretentious as they come.

“Mayor Hannah Wylde.” He tips his head to me. “I am Varyn, your humble servant.”

Humble my ass! This guy oozes so much self-confidence you could bottle and sell it.

“King Severin and the other contestants await you.” He beckons us inside.

I pull out my invitation and double check the time. Yesterday evening, the parchment let out a notification chime, and as I watched, a new line of text appeared below the date, specifying six o’clock. “I’m not late.”

“You are not. You are simply the last scheduled to arrive.”

Okay, good. I hate being late—it always makes me feel like I started on the back foot.

The foyer looks just as grand as it did before, but there are other fae around this time, walking from one room to the other. Even though I can’t catch any of them looking, I feel the press of eyes all around me.

“They’re staring,” I lean over and whisper to Naomi, trying to be even quieter than before.

“They’re checking out their new queen.” She pats my arm.

Uncertainty shivers through me. I thought all those public speaking classes in college got me past feeling like this. That once I’d spoken in front of an auditorium of five hundred people, I could do anything.

Ugh, wrong. This is sweaty-palms, give-a-speech-in-front-of-your-high-school-crush levels of nerves.

Chin up, Hannah, I tell myself. You’ve got this.

Varyn instructs Naomi on how to announce me, and my friend marches beside me down the long throne room. The sunlit stained-glass windows throw patterns of color across the white marble floor, dazzling in their beauty.

But nothing can distract me from the man seated on the throne.

Severin’s eyes catch mine even from a distance, and I can’t look away, like metal pulled to a magnet.

He once again wears his crown, its silver branches curling upward from his head, catching the light and standing out against his inky-black hair.

The same silver branches decorate his deep-green waistcoat like a shimmering, magical forest. An air of command surrounds him.

Yesterday, I relaxed in his presence enough to forget that he’s a king.

I can’t today, and it’s not the crown. It’s him .

He’s breathtaking.

“King Severin,” Naomi says, her tone formal. “The witches of Ferndale Falls present to you Mayor Hannah Wylde.”

“My betrothed,” he growls. In a flash of fluid movement, he stands and gathers my hand in his, kissing my knuckles right below my engagement ring while continuing to hold my gaze.

It’s just my hand, but the way Severin kisses it—his eyes wicked and knowing as they meet mine—makes me imagine him kissing me everywhere . My butterflies take flight, and I try not to squirm. If we were really engaged I’d be totally comfortable with his kisses, not blushing like a school girl.

“You cannot be serious, Severin,” a woman says. “ Her? ”

My butterflies die, poisoned by the disdain dripping from her voice. Yanked from Severin’s sexy magnetism, I spin, finally noticing the other people in the room.

There’s a pair of gnomes, and the younger woman gives me a nod of greeting, a small smile tugging at the corners of her mouth as she spots my engagement ring.

Two tall, willowy women with leafy hair both watch me with slightly mournful looks on their faces. I immediately want to go over and tell them everything will be alright.

I keep turning, my eyes sliding past another good-looking shadow fae man to…

Oh, god. The most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen glares dismissively at me, her eyes the light blue of the heart of a glacier and just as warm.

She’s taller than me and model-thin, with leather-encased legs that go on for days.

Long blonde hair flows around her shoulders like something from a shampoo commercial.

Shadow tattoos slide across the bare skin of her arms, promising magic and power.

And her face! Her face is carved by a master artist, a perfect match for Severin’s chiseled features.

I swallow so loudly I’m sure her fae hearing picks it up, because she sniffs and sneers even harder.

“This is a farce. You honestly expect me to believe you’re going to choose this human over me?” The shadow fae rests a hand on Severin’s forearm, her tattoos sliding toward his. When she catches me looking, she preens like a cat with the cream.

In a flash, I realize she’s so comfortable touching him because they’ve been lovers.

The dead butterflies plummet to the bottom of my stomach like sinking stones.

I’ve always been pretty confident in myself and my looks, but this woman is unreal .

I’m wearing my prettiest purple blouse and a pair of really sharp designer trousers I got for a steal at Nordstrom Rack.

I look my best, but I can’t hold a candle to her. How can I ever compete?

“I would never choose her.” Finn presses against my calf, a low growl humming through his body as he stares at her, his fangs bared. “Don’t forget you have the great honor of being my witch.”

“Thanks, bud,” I whisper.

The beautiful fae ignores us and says to Severin, “Declare me your queen. ”

“Never,” he snaps, his shadows emerging to shove her hand from his arm. “It will never be you, Meloria.”

The conviction in his voice shocks me. Is she why he wants to fake marry me? So he won’t be forced to marry her? I don’t know whether to be thrilled or insulted.

“We will begin the first trial.” He keeps his grip on my hand, and one of his shadows coils around my waist, keeping me close as he leads all of us outside to his garden.

A five-foot pillar of rose quartz stands on a low dais. Varyn instructs the representatives to surround it. “Place one hand on the bridal crystal, and it will create the first trial.”

“You really don’t know what the trials are going to be?” I whisper to Severin.

“No one does.” He shakes his head. “The crystal changes them each time. It’s the only way to make the trials fair.”

Before I can ask anything more, a wave of magic crashes over me, snatching me from Severin’s grasp.

I float up into the air in a blazing ball of light.

Tingles rush over me as my clothing disappears to be replaced by slippers and a floating gossamer gown of white.

It’s lovely and ethereal, like someone captured starlight and gave it physical form.

The magic lowers me gently to the ground, clearing so I can see again.

All of the other contestants wear dresses like mine, and of course, Meloria looks freaking amazing .

A scroll of parchment pops into being in front of Varyn, and he reads, “The first trial is the trial of grace. Each contestant must make it across this field of flowers to the groom. Let it be known you now wear the finest of Faerie silks. A single touch of the blossoms will stain. She who makes it across without any discoloration in the most graceful fashion shall win.”

Magic ripples across the ground, moving Severin to the other side of the garden like he stepped onto one of those moving walkways airports have, only made of grass.

The middle of the garden transforms, the paths and bushes disappearing until it becomes a solid sea of flowers in a patchwork of red, pink, blue, purple, yellow, and orange.

It’s absolutely beautiful, but it’s also impossible to get across without touching any of the blossoms.

“You call this a trial?” Meloria lets out a sarcastic laugh and leaps into the sky, her wings snapping out of her back.

She makes a sharp V in the air, arrowing down to land directly in front of Severin, her dress as pristine as a field of arctic snow.

She throws a gloating smirk at me as she stands at his side.

Damn. I hate that she’s already potentially won, and I sure as hell can’t fly. I spent a good half hour yesterday jumping around on a straddled broom, which gave me nothing more than a killer wedgie.

Naomi steps close. “What are you going to do?”

“I don’t know.”

“I’ll scout.” Finn trots toward the flowers, nose to the ground, and runs back and forth across the front.

He gives a frustrated snort, then plunges into the lush growth, setting a stand of irises swaying.

Emerging several feet away, he slinks back over, his tail down. “I couldn’t find a way through.”

“It’s okay, bud. I don’t think there is one.”

“I’ll go next,” the gnome says. Instead of moving toward the flowers, she dances away from them, going over to a flower bed edged with bare earth.

With a swan dive, she disappears into the ground, leaving behind her little moss cap.

She pops up a minute later from a plant bed behind Severin, looking exactly the same except for the tiny patch of violets on her head.

“How the heckity heck is her dress still white?” I gesture. “She tunneled through dirt , for god’s sake!”

“It’s gnome magic,” Naomi says. “They have complete control over everything underground.”

If there’s one good thing about it, at least it means Meloria no longer has this thing in the bag. She knows it, too, her mouth twisting like she sucked on a lemon.

A spurt of glee goes through me. If that’s a character flaw, it’s one I don’t want to fix. Even if I lose today, I sure as hell don’t want Meloria to win.

But none of this helps my cause. I don’t have gnome magic, either.

The remaining young woman turns her sad-looking eyes upon me. “Would you like to go next?” Her voice is so tremulous I want to wrap her in a hug and tell her everything’s going to be alright.

“No, please go.” I smile brightly, and her expression lightens a little. As she turns away, I whisper to Naomi, “What kind of fae is she?”

When my friend shrugs, Varyn leans in between the two of us and murmurs, “She’s a wood nymph. One bound to a weeping willow, I’d say.”

“Oh!” That’s the kind of leaves her hair’s made of!

She drifts over to one of the maple trees and plucks a fresh helicopter seed from among its leaves.

Bringing it to her mouth, she sings to it, a soft susurrus of a sound, like a breeze through branches.

It grows and grows until it’s as big as she is.

The wood nymph clings to its stem, holding its propellers over her head like a helium balloon, and like a balloon, it lifts with the next gust of wind.

Spinning, she sails over the flowers in a gentle glide to touch down lightly on the far side.

That’s it. All three of them have potentially won.

Severin stares at me with laser focus. I don’t need telepathy to know what he’s trying to tell me: It’s my turn to complete what everyone else obviously considers the easiest of trials.

My teeth dig into my lip, my stomach tightening into a knot.

There’s still one eensy problem.

I’ve got zero way across.