“But none of them were the chosen one,” King Oberon snaps. “And now I have her.”
“You meanIhave her,” the earth fae says.
Because, of course, that’s what matters here.
The tension between them crackles in the air, palpable and thick, and I feel a rush of anxiety as I wonder who will win in this strange contest of ownership.Do I even want one of them to win?I’m a person, not a thing. As fae, though, they’ve probably never considered that.
“Then try to take her from me,” King Oberon growls, his hand coming to rest possessively on the hand I have wrapped around his arm.
The air seems to grow thicker as the tension mounts. The fae around us are watching closely, some with curiosity, others with barely concealed excitement, their eyes gleaming with the thrill of the unfolding drama. My stomach just flips. Drama isn’t the worst thing in the world… unless, of course, you become the center of it, which I am now.
Before anything can escalate further, another figure steps forward, a man with a devil-may-care grin plastered across his face. My heart beats a little faster as he turns his smile onto me. I can’t help but notice the way his presence commands attention, the easy charm that radiates from him like sunlight. He’s tall and broad, maybe taller and broader than the other two by just a bit, with shoulder-length blond hair, left loose, and warm brown eyes that seem to sparkle with mischief.
He raises his hands in mock surrender, a playful glint in his gaze, and winks at me, sending a flutter of something unnameable through my stomach. “You two are like dogs fighting over a bone,” he teases, his voice rich with amusement. His gaze flickers to me once more, softening just a little as he takes in my appearance, and I feel a blush creep up my neck at the unexpected attention. “Though I suppose that’s to be expected with such a lovely human in our midst.”
The tension in the room eases, if only by a little, as the fae’s gazes shift back to their drinks and conversations. But I still can’t shake the sense that I’ve just stepped into something Idon’t understand. Another layer of danger that only a fae would be able to pick up on.
The blond man reaches out and takes my hand, and for some reason, I let him. “King Ashton,” he introduces himself, his voice smooth and charming, each word a gentle caress. “Welcome to our world, lovely human.”
My heart beats a little faster as he presses a kiss to my knuckles.
“And what’s your name?”
“I—" My voice falters, caught in my throat as I swallow around the lump of uncertainty. “Alette.”
“Alette,” he stretches out my name, a playful lilt in his voice that is almost pleasant. “A beautiful name, fitting for a beautiful human.”
His hand closes around mine, and he pulls me from King Oberon’s side. I bounce against his hard chest and let out a little gasp of shock. Without looking up, I can feel the tension between the kings simmering in the air, although I don’t know why it’s so important to them that they win this game they’re playing.
King Oberon takes a step closer to us, the possessiveness in his voice a growl as he asserts, “The human is mine.”
King Ashton waves his words away like they’re gnats, his confidence unwavering. “Not to worry, I only borrow women, never keep them.” His tone is teasing, yet there’s an undercurrent of something more, something that makes me wonder how deep this rivalry runs.
Without looking back, King Ashton leads me gently toward the fae dressed in silver and white, ignoring King Oberon, who glares after us with a fierce intensity. I feel like a pawn in a game much larger than myself, pulled between the forces vying for control. “How much do you know about fae?” he asks, his voice warm and inviting, as if he’s genuinely interested.
It’s weird to be talked to like I’m a person, like I matter. “Nothing,” I tell him, because it’s better than calling them bloodthirsty monsters.
He smiles, and it lights up his whole face. “Would you like me to teach you a bit about them?”
Knowledge is power, I remind myself. “I would.”
“This—” he gestures grandly toward the fae in flowing whites and silvers, “—is the wind fae. My people,” he tells me proudly, a glimmer of affection in his voice as he waves his hand over them. “The fae in reds and oranges are fire fae, led by King Oberon. The fae in brown and green are earth fae, led by King Sylvian. The ones in blue are water fae, led by King Cassius.”
He looks at me, and I have to swallow around the lump in my throat. “Oh, interesting,” is all I manage, my mind racing to catch up to everything he just explained.
“My people are the ones you should focus on,” he tells me, and then he winks again, before he brings me straight into the middle of the crowd of them.
They seem to envelop me in an instant, a whirlwind of movement and sound, exclaiming at my short stature, my hair, my eyes, their voices rising into a chorus of wonder. Hands reach out to touch me, fingers brushing against my arms and shoulders, the warmth of their curiosity a stark contrast to the cold fear gnawing at my insides. The words “chosen one” are spoken in awe under their breath, and I hear the tone of reverence in their voices, which is more than a little unsettling. Yet, none of them go anywhere near the dagger at my hip. Which probably isn’t an accident.
The wind fae are… kind. At least, that’s how they’re presenting themselves right now. Which is a surprise.Who would ever associate fae with the word “kind”?
“What do they call her?” one woman asks.
“Alette,” King Ashton tells them proudly. It’s strange—I haven’t heard anyone say my name with pride since my father died.
Suddenly, the doors of the great hall are thrown open once more, and I spin to look toward the sound. A figure is framed in the doorway, not nearly as big as the three fae kings I’ve met, but his presence is dominating, making me instantly suspect him of being another king. He has the palest blond hair I’ve ever seen in my life, which is left a little long and swept over to fall artfully over one of his shockingly pale blue eyes. His eyes are locked on me, making me instantly feel pinned in place.
He steps forward, confidence in his stride, as he undoubtedly makes his way toward me. I shrink back, overwhelmed by his intensity, overwhelmed by his very presence, a magnetic force that pulls me in and threatens to swallow me whole all at once.
