Page 17

Severin

How dare she?

My hands ball into fists, my shadows lifting from my writhing tattoos, ready to snap out and punish.

I turn my furious gaze upon Meloria, who stands completely unrepentant. She cheated and sent her shadows sneaking out into the flowers to trip Hannah before I could stop her.

Yet I only know this because I, too, ignored the rules and sent my shadows sliding through the flower field.

I kept them low to the ground, hidden by all the blooms and leaves.

As soon as I realized Hannah must lack the kind of magic that would let her cross, I vowed to help her.

Only I didn’t need to. Hannah did fine on her own, using her innate balance and grace.

Then Meloria struck, and all I could do was cushion Hannah’s fall, my shadows catching her right before she hit the ground.

Goddess. I can’t say a word about Meloria’s perfidy without exposing my own. If the representatives discover I’m willing to bend the rules to aid Hannah, they’ll keep me from helping her during the next trials. My teeth grind as I bare my fangs.

The bridal crystal lets out a loud chime, and a scroll appears before Varyn, who snaps it out of the air and unfurls it to declare, “The winner of the trial of grace is…”

He pauses, drawing out the anticipation until I want to throttle him.

“Elowen! Elowen is our winner!”

Meloria scowls and mutters, to no effect.

The bridal crystal is ancient and incorruptible magic. Not even I can sway it. Besides, it chose true, for the nymph’s magicked flight was the epitome of grace.

Another chime, and my garden slides back into its original configuration as if the trial never occurred. The magic wraps each contestant in a whirl of brightness before fading to show them in their original clothes.

“At least I no longer look like a tie-dye experiment gone horribly wrong,” Hannah says as she crouches down to pet her familiar.

Finn yips and spins in a circle, making her laugh, her hand flying up to her head, feeling all the flower petals stuck in her hair. She leans over him, letting her long, fine locks stream toward the ground, and gives a good shake, showering him with petals.

“He’s very sweet, your fox.” Elowen bends over, stretching out a long, graceful arm.

He lets her scratch his head, yipping all the while.

“He says to tell you his name is Finn and that he’s not my fox—I’m his witch.”

Elowen laughs, the happy rustle of leaves in a playful breeze.

Ruby and Naomi join in, cooing over the animal, and the women introduce themselves to each other.

It’s fascinating, the way Hannah asks about each of the fae, getting them talking and setting them at ease.

This must be part of why she’s mayor, but it’s very different from everything I know of being a leader.

She connects to people via kindness instead of imposing her will on them via power.

Perhaps marrying her will aid in improving my reputation more than I ever expected.

But to do that, I need her to win this competition.

“Hannah, I must speak with you.”

Both Hannah and Meloria look at me, the former looking miserable, the latter grinning, both assuming I’ll cast Hannah aside. Everyone else in the garden watches closely as well.

I need to make a show of support, convince everyone our fake engagement is real.

“I’m so glad you’re all right.” Gripping Hannah’s shoulders, I pull her close, as if overcome with concern.

I’ve got no chance to warn her I’m going to kiss her—the other fae would detect a sound-cloaking spell and know something isn’t right.

Will she be able to fake some enthusiasm for a kiss? Goddess, I hope so.

Hannah jerks as if startled, planting her palms on my chest as if ready to push away. Tension thrums through her muscles, her body rigid against mine. I brush my thumb down her cheek, slip it under her chin to tilt her head up.

She gasps, her heartbeat thundering in my ears as it picks up speed. Her beautiful brown eyes brim with a million questions, her lips parting as if to ask what I’m doing. I can’t let her speak—it’s not a question a real couple would need asked.

I cover her mouth with mine, swallowing the first soft sound of her confusion before it can escape.

Her body remains stiff, her lips unresponsive.

Seconds tick by like hours while she stands frozen in shock.

Goddess, this kiss will fool no one! My hold on her tightens, pulling her closer to make the embrace appear more passionate.

Then Hannah makes this breathy little moan, her lips moving against mine as her body melts into my embrace.

Goddess, that sound! Hunger races through me, and I tease her lips apart, my tongue plunging forward to taste, to feast. I crush her close, my shadows leaping from my skin, coiling around her and holding her as tightly as my arms.

Hannah’s hands fist the open collar of my shirt, pulling her even closer, and she makes that little noise again, the one that goes straight to my cock.

I growl, sliding my lips to the edge of her jaw, right below her ear. Goddess, she smells delicious, like sunshine and flowers, sweet enough to eat. I nip at her with my fangs until she squirms.

A throat clears rather loudly behind me. I ignore it. Someone calls my name. It means nothing compared to the woman in my arms and whatever I need to do to get her to make that bewitching sound again .

“Severin, enough!” The sharp snap of Meloria’s voice slices the air.

My head whips around, and I scowl. “You dare!”

“I’m not the one showing a lack of decorum. Instead of watching any more of this , I’m taking my leave.” With one last sneer, Meloria and her representative leap into the air, their shadow wings unfurling as they speed toward the waterfall and the waiting door to Faerie.

Thank the goddess. With any luck, she’ll stay away until the next trial. My anger might have cooled by then. Perhaps, although doubtful. As a shadow fae, I know how to hold a grudge, and the wrong she did to my betrothed…

Another realization strikes. If Meloria doesn’t stay away from Ferndale Falls over the coming weeks, Hannah’s not safe.

The gnomes and wood nymphs make their own noises about leaving, yet linger. I grind my teeth and make forced small-talk, which is admittedly nothing more than a series of grunts on my part.

Finally, I’m alone with Hannah, Varyn, and Naomi.

“Meloria cheated,” I growl. “She tripped Hannah during the trial.”

“I knew something was off!” Hannah snaps her fingers, and Finn gives an angry bark.

“Find me a bodyguard for Hannah.” I meet Varyn’s eyes. “Not a shadow fae.”

He raises an eyebrow as if to ask if I’m sure.

I give a small nod. I am. Besides him and Daigan, there aren’t many other fae I can be completely certain Meloria can’t undermine, and I need both of them to continue their current duties.

“There are cu sith in Alarria,” I say. The wolf shifters make the best bodyguards, fearsome fighters in their werewolf forms. Better yet, once they accept a job, their loyalty cannot be bought, no matter the bribe offered.

“On my way.” His silver shadow wings spread wide, carrying him up into the air.

“I need to get back to the shop,” Naomi says to Hannah. “You want to come with?”

Hannah meets my eyes and shakes her head. “Severin and I need to talk.”

“I’ll fly her back to town,” I say

The fox barks.

“And you as well.”

Another bark.

Hannah shakes her head. “He wants to go with Naomi.”

The fox gives me one last warning glare, baring impressive fangs.

Although glad she has such a loyal protector, I bare my own. It’s not in my nature to hide my strengths.

The two of them disappear, leaving me alone with Hannah at long last.

“We need to talk.”

She nods, her cheeks pinking as her fingers brush her lips.

“I need to know what your magic is so I can understand the challenges you’ll face in each trial.” And how best to help her with my own magic, though I don’t admit that to her. We might not have known each other for long, but I can tell she won’t agree to cheating .

Hannah lets out a soft oof, as if punched in the gut, and several emotions dash across her intoxicatingly expressive face: surprise, hurt, shame.

I can feel her power, so what has her so worried? Is it completely useless for trials such as these?

A tiny spurt of hope goes through me. What if she has baking magic and I get to marry my own personal baker? I squash the errant thought down with a frown. Good bread won’t help her win the competition.

“What is your magic?” I ask again.

Her face crumples.