“It’s nothing,” I say, trying to walk without a limp, and failing.
King Oberon is beside me in an instant. “Which ankle is it? We’ll take care of it right away.”
King Ashton laughs. “Look at the big brute, all concerned. I barely touched her.”
“You hurt her,” King Oberon says, voice icy.
King Ashton holds up his hands. “She’s fine.”
“Are you fine?” King Oberon asks me directly, his eyes burning into mine.
“I’m fine,” I say, but my voice is too small.
King Oberon turns and punches King Ashton in the face.
The blow is so fast I barely see it. Ashton drops to one knee, a bright line of blood trailing from his mouth.
“That’s for hurting her,” King Oberon says.
King Cassius shakes his head and mutters something I can’t hear.
Then King Oberon turns, scoops me up, arms under my knees and shoulders, and strides toward the house. Like I weigh nothing at all. Like I’m not suddenly pressed up against a huge fae king. His chest is slick with sweat, and I can feel his heartbeat through the skin. It’s… different.
“I can walk,” I protest.
He ignores me, walking faster through the castle, then up the stairs. He kicks open my bedroom door and strides in, then lays me gently on my bed. He’s so gentle that I feel strange. I can’t remember anyone treating me like I was something fragile and precious. Not like he’s treating me now. And I’ve been hurt a thousand times worse than this before.
I wonder what these kings would say if they saw my back.
“Wait here,” he says, turning to leave.
But then he stops, glancing over his shoulder.
He fishes in his pocket and pulls out something gold and shiny. A little charm, in the shape of a flame.
He sets it on the table beside my bed.
“For you,” he says, voice low. Then he’s gone.
I sit for a long time, staring at the charm. Picking it up, I study the pretty thing. It’s small, almost weightless in my palm, but the warmth of his touch lingers on the metal. I don’t know why he gave it to me. I don’t know what it means.
I’m not used to being touched at all, let alone carried, or cared about, or fought over. I don’t understand these men. I don’t understand myself. There must be something wrong with me because these cruel fae are treating me with a kind of kindness I only remember experiencing with my parents and the villagers.What does that mean?
I close my hand around the charm, feeling the points of the flames digging into my skin.
I don’t know what this is.
But I think I want to find out.
12
Alette
Fae magic can actually behelpful. Who would have thought?I rotate my ankle a little before I take my next step and find not even a ping of pain. The palace healer’s brew tasted like ash and citrus, but it must have worked, because the dull throb is gone.
It seems I’m ready for my training today… there’s no excuse at all to avoid spending more time with the four confusing fae kings. None at all.
Four pairs of eyes track me from the edge of the gravel court. The kings are already here, lined up like a jury, each dressed for training in their own style. King Oberon is in tight black, a sleeveless shirt that puts his muscular arms on display. His muscular arms that are covered in scars and burns. King Ashton is in airy, delicate white leather so fine it might dissolve if it got wet. King Sylvian is in mossy green with bits of actual moss on his shoulders, as if the ground itself grew the clothing onto him. King Cassius is in blue with silver piping, starched and immaculate.
