Frost (Frost and Nectar #1)(13)
He frowned, staring at the window. “When a Seelie king sits on the fae throne, he draws upon the magic of the realm to defend the kingdom and conquer new lands. The queen, on the other hand, replenishes that magic. Her magic is vernal, bringing growth and fertility. It will take months to fully return magic to our realm, and after that, we’ll need a queen to sit on the throne occasionally.”
“So, you need someone else’s magic to replenish your own? You’re running out of power?”
“Yes.” His eyes met mine. “Twenty-three years ago, my mother died. She was the last queen of Faerie. Since then, I’ve been drawing upon the magic of the realm. I’ve had to fight the humans and keep the rest of the Seelie clans in line. I’ve drained a great deal of magic from the kingdom. And now, a cold winter had descended upon the land. Only a queen on the throne can replenish our magic and bring back the spring. And that’s where you come in.”
I sighed. “Okay. So, you want me to be your wife so your kingdom can drain my magic? Don’t be offended, but I’m going to pass on this offer. Why don’t you ask one of the many fae women who actually want to do this? There are plenty of them clamoring for the chance.”
“I don’t want you to be my wife, either,” said King Torin. “That’s the whole plan. That’s why you’re so perfect.”
I blinked. “Sorry, what?”
“You’ll just need to marry me for a few months. Not for very long. And you wouldn’t need to consummate anything. Just sit on the queen’s throne and channel your power. Replenish Faerie’s magic. Help me save the kingdom. Once things are back to normal, we’ll get divorced. And you can go back to”—he surveyed the small living room—“this place. And it can all be over without any messy emotions getting in the way because we don’t like each other. At all.”
He paused, crossing his arms over his chest like he’d just delivered the deal of a lifetime.
I stared at the king. “Why would I do this? You want me to become your wife, then divorce you few months later. Can you imagine the impact that would have on my life? I hate being the center of attention, and I’d be all over the news as ‘a gold-digger common fae.’ Just that ten minutes outside was one of the worst experiences of my life. And after I left Faerie? I’d be all over the tabloids. I don’t need this. I have a mess of my own here I need to sort out, Torin. I need to find a way to get my own place. Normal things like rent that you probably don’t even know about. Can’t you just find someone you actually love?”
For a moment, I thought I saw him wince. Then his expression became unreadable again. “I was planning on paying you handsomely for your role. Thirty million dollars to cover your time and any potential future issues. You’d be set up for life. You can choose to stay in Faerie, with the understanding that it will not be a real marriage. I should probably add that there is a good chance you could die during the tournaments.”
I froze, my eyes widening. “Thirty…sorry I thought you said…did you say thirty million?” As soon as the words were out of my mouth, it occurred to me that I was a terrible negotiator. If he was willing to throw thirty million at me, how high could I get him to go?
I rested my hand on my hip. “I won’t have my good name dragged through the mud. And you did mention that I could die.”
He snorted. “Your good name? Your meltdown is all over mortal social media. How could it possibly be any worse?”
I closed my eyes, trying not to imagine what the memes were like. Shivers of horror crawled over my body at the thought of everyone sharing the video. Sounds of me slurring about Chad from Hitched and Stitched trending on TikTok…
It almost made the idea of running away to Faerie sound appealing.
“Fifty million,” I said.
“Fine. Fifty million—if you win. I will do my best to keep you alive.”
“How dangerous are we talking, exactly?”
“The tournaments always end in a fencing match, and it has been known to get bloody. But I will help you train.”
I let out a long, slow breath. “Besides bartending, fencing is the one thing I’m actually good at.” I bit my lip. “But what are the chances I’ll win?”
“Assuming you survive, almost certain, since I’m the one who chooses the bride. We just need to make sure it seems believable that I’d choose you, which won’t exactly be easy after…”
“The drunken meltdown, yes.”
“You must avoid making another public spectacle of yourself in Faerie. My cursory research tells me that until last night, I didn’t see any other evidence of public disgrace or scandal. Do you think you can conduct yourself with a modicum of decorum? I’m not expecting much, but my marriage to you has to be at least somewhat believable. And the idea of marrying a lowborn common fae with a slovenly appearance and a drinking problem already stretches the bounds of credulity.”
His insults were sliding right off me now because… fifty million? I could probably buy my own privacy. I could buy people to compliment me. I could get takeout curry every night. It was a dizzying amount of money; I almost couldn’t comprehend what I’d do with it.
I opened my eyes again to find that King Torin had fallen silent and was staring at me. An icy fire danced in his eyes. I sensed that he was studying me. Not in a sexual way, but rather that he was finally taking me in as a person. Assessing my running outfit. The dark circles under my eyes. The rat’s nest of my hair. Assessing weaknesses.