I tilt my head. “What do you mean?”
“Like the legend!” she says, eyes finding mine in the mirror briefly before returning to my hair.
“What legend?” I ask as I watch her wrap another piece of my hair around the metal hair rod. A curling rod, she called it. It’s nothing I’ve ever seen before, but it helps her channel her elemental magic to shape my wavy hair into loose curls.
Ruby and Nora both look at me, surprise flashing in their eyes. Ruby says, “Of the First Deer Queen. Have you never heard of it?”
I shake my head and earn a glare from Ruby, my hair still wrapped around the curling tool. “No, I haven’t. Or at least, if I did, I don’t remember it. What is it about?”
Ruby releases her grasp on the lock of hair and gently pulls the curling rod out to preserve the curl. “It’s about how the kingdom came into existence and how the Deer Court came to be the ruling court,” she explains as she grabs a new piece of hair to curl. “Our parents were told the story by their parents, and it just continues to get passed down with each generation. Some people believe it’s a true story that’s been altered as it’s been passed down, and some believe that it’s a prophecy. It just kind of depends on who you ask,” she says with a shrug.
I rack my brain, thinking about stories that Willa told me when I was young, but I don’t recall anything remotely close to this. “What’s it about?”
“I don’t remember exactly how it’s told, but I remember the gist of it. Thousands of years ago, before the High Houses even existed, the High Fae ruled over the forest. One day, the Queen of the Fae, Wrena, wandered into the forest and stumbled upon a massive stag. Turns out,” she says, eyes brightening and smile widening, “the stag was her long-lost High Fae king. His entire court believed him to be dead, but he had been cursed by an evil Fae or a witch—I can’t remember—and forced to live as a creature of the forest.”
She extends her hand and summons a hairbrush from the countertop in front of me. She plucks the brush from the air and uses it to detangle a knot that somehow worked its way into my hair.
“Luckily,” she continues, “Wrena eventually realized who he was. She tried everything to reverse the curse and turn him back into a human. When she finally did, she transferred some of the curse to herself, giving herself deer features and elemental magic. Thus, she was titled the First Deer Queen. When the other High Fae wanted to be transformed into woodland creatures, Wrena granted this wish to four of her dearest friends, creating the different High Houses. The legend, or the prophecy as some people believe, is that one day, Wrena’s true daughter will ascend to the throne and will sit beside a great stag. So, when you arrived with the stag, everyone was stunned.”
The crowd’s reaction makes more sense now. “Her true daughter? What does that mean? Aren’t we all technically her daughters if she created the deer line?”
Ruby wraps the last piece of hair around the curling rod as Nora gently cups my chin and re-applies powdered blush along my cheeks.
“Well, as the story goes, Wrena never actually had a daughter of her own after she became Queen of the Deer. The king and queen had two daughters, but they were High Fae,” Ruby says.
“Do you think the story is true?” I ask.
Ruby removes the curling rod and gently rests the curled lock on my shoulder. Then, she holds up her palm and twists her hand in the air. Golden glimmer erupts from her fingertips and shimmers in the air before slowly descending, settling onto my hair and makeup.
“Anything is possible,” she says, a gleam in her eye. “Especially with magic.”
Chapter 13
Silence falls as I enterthe formal dining room. The princes’ conversations end abruptly as Ivan and I step inside. I will my nerves to calm, taking a deep breath and exhaling slowly before pasting my most queenly smile on my face. Or at least, what I hope is.
Bundles of wildflowers adorn the oak dining table in overflowing bouquets. A chandelier of branches hangs over the table, lit candles sitting artfully among them. Each prince sits, handsome as ever, waiting for me.
Waiting for their High Queen.
“Gentlemen,” Ivan says. Chairs scoot back as the princes stand, their eyes fixed on me. I straighten my posture and stand tall, sending a silent thanks to Ruby for the dress she selected for tonight. My confidence grows as their eyes rove up and down my body. The emerald bodice is made of see-through fabric, but red roses are artfully placed on my chest before trailing down the flared skirt.
“Introducing your High Queen,” Ivan says proudly.
August is the first to bow, each prince following suit. All eyes watch me as I make my way to the head of the table where a glass of champagne is already filled and waiting for me. Before I sit, I raise my glass high and look around the table as the princes raise their own.
I take a moment to make eye contact with everyone before speaking. Each prince is dressed impeccably. Marik and Asmo stand shrouded in all-black tuxedos with matching silver snake pendants pinned to their upper left lapels. Koa wears a fitted charcoal gray suit, the top three buttons of his crisp white shirt left unbuttoned, revealing the top of his chiseled chest. August dons a fitted white suit with silver accents, the white a stark contrast to his golden-brown skin. Barrett’s chestnut suit is fitted tight to his muscular frame, his curly hair pulled back into a neat bun at the nape of his neck.
“Thank you all for being here for this unorthodox beginning to my reign. I certainly did not expect to be here tonight, and I know none of you did, either. At least, not under these circumstances.” I pause, looking around the room, noting everyone’s solemn expressions as they recall the reason they’re here: the death of the royal family.
“Regardless,” I continue, “I am happy to be here with you all tonight. Cheers to the beginning of my reign and to finding the next High King.”
Cheers sound around the table, followed by the sound of champagne flutes clinking together. Once everyone is seated, waiters in crisp white uniforms enter the dining room. Ivory bowls float behind them on a gentle breeze of magic as they deposit steaming bowls of creamy soup around the table.
I pick one of the spoons from the utensils in front of me and dunk it into the bowl.
“It’s the other spoon, princess,” Asmo drawls from the other side of the table.
My cheeks warm, but I pretend like I don’t hear him. “What’s that, Prince Asmo?” I ask politely. I promised Elle I’d be on my best behavior.
