The room seems to wake back up. The music starts playing. The fae talk as we take our places at the table, King Cassius on one side of me, King Oberon at the head of the table on the other side of me, King Ashton on King Oberon’s other side across from me, and King Sylvian next to him. Making it so I’m entirely surrounded. Every muscle in my body is tense. Ignoring the magical dagger at my hip, I grip the hilt of the knife lying on the table, my eyes darting all around me, looking for danger in every movement they make. But there’s none.
The air is thick with the rich aromas of food, spices swirling together in an intoxicating blend that makes my stomach growl,reminding me how long it’s been since I last had a proper meal. The clink of fine glassware punctuates the air, each sound echoing through the opulent space.
They're happy. And calm. While I feel like I'm crawling out of my skin. I flinch every time one of the fae looks my ways. My palms are sweaty. My muscles are clenched so tight I think I just might snap and stab the next fae that moves in my direction.
This isn't good. Not at all.
I close my eyes, inhaling deeply, trying to calm my racing anxiety, but all I can smell are the exotic scents of food and perfume. Of a place alien to me. It’s a reminder that I’m surrounded by fae in the fae lands.
Another breath. Take another breath.
Opening my eyes, I see that servants have filled my plate with food. I force myself to grab my fork and take a bite of the beef on my plate that's swimming in sauce. My nerves make it taste like ash and unfamiliar spices, but I know I need to keep eating. Without food, I'll become weak.
Without food, I'll never escape.
“How are you enjoying our food?” King Sylvian asks, his lips curved into a smile that lights up his ridiculously beautiful face.
“I imagine it's better than most prisoners get,” I tell him honestly.
“Prisoner?” he repeats, smirking. “If I was going to tie you up, it wouldn't be to make you my prisoner.”
Horrified, I ask, “Then why would you tie me up?”
He blinks at me slowly and leans forward over the table. “For fun.”
I'm almost too terrified to speak. “For you.”
“For you too, I promise,” he says, flashing a wicked grin.
I shake my head, feeling like I've swallowed glass. “Not me. Never me.”
He leans back in his chair looking troubled. “It would be to slow things down. To make it last…”
“I'd rather you make my death quick.”
King Ashton, who sits beside him and has been obviously listening to our conversation, laughs. “No surprise there. She'd choose death over riding your caterpillar.”
“Python,” King Sylvian corrects grumpily.
King Ashton winks. “You keep telling yourself that.”
I stare, having no idea what they're talking about.
King Sylvian studies his nails. “Better a caterpillar than a two second ride.”
Something ticks in King Aston’s jaw. “I can increase this ride any time I want. It'd take a blessing from the gods for you to reach half my length.”
“You're just lucky the wind fae women are used to being disappointed.”
“I imagine the earth fae women are easily impressed.”
King Cassius sighs from beside me. “Is this really the conversation you want to have with the Chosen One? Your brainless heads can think of nothing better?”
“Old Buzzkill is here again,” King Ashton mutters under his breath.
Well… that was weird. The whole conversation. It must be a fae thing, because it felt like we were speaking two different languages.
Forcing myself to keep eating, I try to focus less on my anxiety and more on what's going on around me, but it's hard. I just feel so out of place. It’s not just the clothes, the lavish gown that hugs my frame uncomfortably. It's the richness of the food that feels foreign on my tongue, and the silverware that glints in the soft light, reminding me of how far removed I am from my simpler life. It's the big room. It's the pretty people. It’s…everything. Including the fact that every one of these people has pointed ears, except for the humans who serve them.
