Frost (Frost and Nectar #1)(23)

I glanced at Shalini, catching her enraptured expression. Awestruck, I gazed at the ceiling again.

Aeron caught my elbow, recalling my attention. “This way,” he said, nodding at one of the tables.

The contestants were already taking their seats, and the princesses sat among the rest.

My gaze snagged on a princess seated near me. She wore an elegant green dress that sparkled like the sea under the sun. Her brown eyes were enormous and fringed with long lashes, and a wreath of seaweed was nestled in her white hair. Her pale skin had an almost iridescent hue that shimmered under the lights. “Aren’t we all lucky to be here?” she said to her neighbors. “One of us will find true love. We might bear the king’s children.”

She beamed, but no one answered her.

True love. You poor, naive thing.

“Who’s that?” I whispered to Shalini.

Shalini leaned close so only I could hear. “That’s Princess Alice. She’s a kelpie—a lake fae.

They can be very weepy, but she seems thrilled with all this.”

“Oh.” I had only a vague memory of what that meant. Something to do with horses, I thought.

“And next to her, Etain of the Leannán Sídhe.”

I followed her gaze to see a woman with tawny skin and hair the color of a sunset, periwinkle and coral. She wore a delicate crown of pearls and a pale violet dress—and she was presently giving the middle finger to Moria. “Don’t think you can order us all around here, blood-drinker.”

“What’s a Leannán Sídhe?” I asked.

“A seductress of some kind, I think,” she whispered back. “And that”—she pointed to a green-haired beauty—“is Eliza, princess of the Selkie clan.”

The warm lights shimmered off Eliza’s green hair and bronze skin. “I have been told that the king’s generosity is unparalleled,” Eliza said, lifting a crystal flute. She smiled, but her expression seemed forced. “And this fine champagne certainly lends credence to that opinion.”

“Selkie?” I whispered.

“They live by the sea,” said Shalini. “The clan symbol is a seal. And to her right is Sydoc the Redcap. Just…maybe just stay away from her. Redcaps are terrifying.”

Sydoc wore a bright red gown and hat, the color a startling contrast to her pale skin, and her long raven hair cascaded over bare shoulders. She spoke to no one, just drank her wine, her eyes flitting from one side to another.

At this point, I was wishing I’d paid more attention to my fae history.

As the only fae kid in my town, I’d stood out. I’d done everything I could to be like the human kids —watched their TV shows, listened to their pop music, grown my hair out to cover my ears, dyed it brown to match the other kids. I wasn’t even entirely sure what color of blue my hair was anymore, since I got the roots done every three weeks.

The only properly fae thing I’d done was learn how to fence in high school, just when the fae were starting to become fashionable among a few of the cooler, edgier humans. And fencing was a fae thing. With my little fae-loving clique, I’d learned the art of the foil, the épée, and the sabre. It had come more naturally to me than anything I’d done before.

Finally, by my sophomore year of high school, some of the kids actually thought I was cool, and no one was tying me to fence posts anymore.

In the past few years, humans had become increasingly obsessed with us. Now, news reporters and the paparazzi followed our every move, and fae dictated the fashions. Pink and purple hair dye sold off the shelves, and colored contact lenses now went for thousands of dollars on eBay. Plastic surgeons had begun adding silicon points to human ears.

But that was five years ago; I hadn’t touched a sword since then.

The sound of a blaring trumpet snapped me out of my reminiscences, and I looked up to see King Torin enter the room, dressed in black. His pale gaze slid over the crowd. Striding across the marble with his contingent of footmen and soldiers, he looked every bit the king.

He wore a long cloak, inky black with silver embroidery. At his hip, I could see the glint of his onyx-hilt rapier. But what really caught my eye was the crown of antlers on his head—a dark silver color, sharply pointed.

He stopped in the center of the room with his back to the granite thrones. His host stepped away, and a hush fell over the ballroom. For once, even the reporter was silent. All eyes were fixed on King Torin.

His regal magic seemed to command us to bow. Honor your king.

Heads around me lowered, but I kept my eyes on him. I guess I still resented being exiled.

Torin’s eyes met mine for an instant, but his expression betrayed nothing. “Welcome to my home. I appreciate that all of you have come on such short notice. It is important that we—that I—select a queen to rule Faerie, to strengthen the power of the six Seelie clans. My mother’s throne has been empty for too long, and the kingdom needs the strength of a high queen.”

There was a murmur of appreciation from the audience.

“Before things begin, I want to explain the rules of the tournament.” King Torin’s eyes moved around the room, and they seemed to linger on me just a heartbeat longer than the rest. “According to the ancient writings of the great Seelie historical chronicler, Oberon, these trials have been a custom for centuries. Every time, they end with a sword fight in the arena. Their purpose is to identify those possessing traits of a true fae queen: strength and agility, wit, intelligence, and of course, skill with a blade. And at times in the history of the fae, when we blended with the human world, we have incorporated elements of their culture. As High King of the Seelie, ruler of the six clans, I must see that the humans continue to revere us.”