Frost (Frost and Nectar #1)(30)

My breath hitched as he turned to walk away from me, and I muttered, “What was that about,”

feeling like I’d already lost the trial.

His lips were faintly curved in a smile. “That was about you being astoundingly judgmental even though you are no better or worse than the rest of us. And now you know it. You belong here, fucking at Beltane like the rest of us.”

My pulse was racing out of control, and I felt as if I’d just lost some sort of battle against him.

Particularly since I couldn’t stop imagining bare skin in the forest, his hands cupping my ass, bodies sliding against each other. I could envision myself glowing and clenching as the King of the Fae made me moan toward the heavens, my nipples hard in the forest air. Slick with desire, shameless, on all fours…completely unable to control myself.

So that was a real Seelie party…

“No worse than the rest of you?” I repeated, gathering my thoughts. “It seems your estimation of me has gone up, then.”

“It went up when you woke sober and on time.” The king led me toward the dark line of trees.

“I can see why you wouldn’t want a real wife. You’d miss out on the post-sacrifice orgies. I’ll bet all the fae women are clamoring for a chance to get a crack at the handsome king all covered in blood from the stag fights.”

His gaze slid to mine. “That is the second time you called me handsome. Is this why you have to pretend to hate me so much? You can’t stop thinking about how I look.”

I’m sure he already knew he was handsome. It wasn’t the kind of beauty that went unnoticed.

He reached for my thermos of coffee and took a sip. I guess we were on “sharing thermos” terms now, even if we didn’t like each other.

We’d nearly reached the tree line, a dark row of evergreens, their branches thick with snow and needles. Mist swirled between the trunks, and it was impossible to see more than a few feet into the interior of the forest. A chill ran down my spine.

The fae were so beautiful and refined, it hadn’t occurred to me exactly how brutal they could be.

And that made me wonder exactly how much danger I’d be in during these trials.

Then, out of the corner of my eye, a flicker of pale skin slipped between the trees.

I turned to see a beautiful woman with long, black hair and silvery skin washing a cloth in an icy stream. Crimson blood seemed to stain the fabric. She was singing quietly, a mournful song in a language that I couldn’t understand. Nonetheless, it made my heart clench and brought tears to my eyes.

I’d stopped walking to stare at her.

Torin leaned in, whispering, “The bean nighe. She’s more spirit than fae.”

“Amazing,” I breathed.

She seemed to hear me, and she turned, her black eyes locking on me. Her lips were the same blood red as the cloth she washed, and her hands were stained with blood. She wore only the thinnest of white gowns. Black as coal, her eyes turned to the king. “Your Majesty?” she called out in a low voice. “Death is coming to Faerie.”

“It always is. Do we have permission to enter the forest?”

She glanced at me, then back at the king.

“Of course, Your Majesty,” she said at last. “That one belongs here in the wild.”

King Torin inclined his head respectfully. “Thank you, mistress.”

He led me deeper into the icy wood, and the fog enveloped us.

The creepy woman was right. I did feel like I belonged here.





13

A VA

A s soon as we crossed beyond the first few trees, King Torin held up his hand, motioning for me to stop. “Okay,” he said. “This is the first mile mark. Until the forest, there’s not much to worry about.”

I took in the billowing mist around me, and a cold sense of dread started to dance up my spine.

“So what do I need to worry about here?”

“It’s here, in the forest, where I expect people to be severely injured. It’s the other contestants you need to worry about.”

I hugged myself under the cloak. “You didn’t mention this when we signed the contract.”

“Would you have turned down fifty million just because of a little danger?”

No. “Maybe. What, exactly, will we be doing? Fighting each other like stags?”

“It’s a race to select the strong and lithe. Every contest will involve subterfuge, deceit, and lethal aggression.”

My jaw tightened. Five years of slinging cocktails for humans hadn’t exactly prepared me for lethal aggression.

It seemed I’d been wrong. This was nothing like Hitched and Stitched.

“These women will do anything to win,” he went on, “and there’s nothing barring violence in the rules. A fae queen must be ruthless, so it’s really expected. They will use magic to try to bring down anyone in the front. And this is why it’s always a princess who wins. Common fae like you don’t have any magic.”

My stomach was twisting. “Are you going to get to the part where you explain how I can win?”

He turned to me with a dark smile. “Fortunately, not all magic requires that one cast a spell.”

Torin reached into a pocket and withdrew three small glass vials. He handed one to me. “Be very careful with this.”