Heart of the Fae (The Otherworld #1)(92)

“You are far too presumptuous.” He reached forward and fingered a lock of her hair. “I wonder what Fae calls you slave?”

It was too close. “No one, your highness. I came from the human realm.”

“And who let you into my kingdom?”

“I have always been close to the faeries. My mother left her offerings every week and passed along the respect in her bloodline.”

“Respect.” He let her hair drop as his lip curled in disgust. “Your kind has little understanding of the word.”

The king turned, lifted an imperious hand, and walked away.

The air rang with clanging metal as the guards slammed their swords against their chest plates and followed their king. Sorcha tucked her arms against her sides and tried not to trip. The guards were so close to her that she could feel the cold air radiating from their armor.

It all seemed to be far more fanfare than necessary. They were all over two feet taller than Sorcha. Why did they need so many guards for just her? She wasn’t likely to be able to fight one of them, let alone fifteen.

She caught glimpses of the Seelie castle from between the soldiers. It was as if the entire palace was made of light. White floors, golden ceilings, rays of sunshine that bounced until it hurt her eyes to look into some of the rooms.

How did they live like this? Everything was too perfect, too pristine. Her fingers itched to leave a smudged print on the glistening floor. Anything to prove that this place was real and lived in.

Sorcha glanced over her shoulder and caught sight of the faeries trailing after them. Brownies and hobgoblins, dressed in little more than burlap sacks. They held brooms and dustbins, sweeping up any dirt that might have fallen from their feet. More trailed after them with hand rags and water. Their gaunt faces were haunting and hungry.

The Wise King, indeed.

Clenching her fists, Sorcha reminded herself where she was. This was his land, his palace, his kingdom. Although she wanted to free every faerie she found, she would only get herself killed. Or worse, reveal where Stone hid.

She didn’t even know if he was hiding. Stone had spoken of revenge. Did he have a plan she didn’t know about? Were the other faeries privy to such information?

Questions whirled through her mind until she could hardly think or breathe.

There were no answers in the pristine walls and sun-flooded rooms. She would have to wait until she returned home. Then she would corner Stone and force him to answer all the things he had not shared.

They marched through a pavilion, giant stone arches outlining the square. Flowers bloomed, larger than life and vibrantly colored, filling the air with a sticky sweet scent.

“Would you like a drink?” the king asked. “The honey from these flowers are said to be the most rare and exotic treat.”

“No, thank you, I am not thirsty.” She would not take any chances.

“Food? We have many things you may never have dreamed of before.”

“No. I ate before I arrived.”

A grin spread across his sculpted lips. “As smart as you are brave. You are an intriguing little human.”

“I know the ways of the Fae,” she said. “It is an honor to serve when I can, but I do not wish to linger here.”

“You have someone to go home to?”

“No.”

“You’re lying.” He licked his lips as if she had provided a most delicious delicacy.

“I rarely lie.”

“I can taste it in the air. Humans are so easy to read. Your eyes dilate, your chest heaves with your guilty breath. You are a book that I can peel open and read every word.”

She hated him. She hated every dark word that dripped from his tongue because she knew he was right. He was nothing like his brother and that frightened her more than anything else.

They walked through the pavilion and he rapped his knuckles against a marble door.

“My love,” he called out. “I have brought you a gift.”

“I do not wish for a gift!”

“You will want this one.”

“Please, my king. I do not feel well today.”

“Precisely.” He shoved the door open and nodded towards Sorcha. “Enter.”

“She does not seem to wish for visitors.”

“It is not her choice. My concubines obey to my every whim and fulfil my every desire. I wish for her to be seen and you will ensure she is healthy.”

Sorcha curtseyed. “Then your wish is my command.”

As she passed, he reached out and grabbed her chin. “If she becomes ill after you touch her, no one will be able to hide you from my wrath. I will peel your skin back inch by inch and I will keep you alive through it all.”

“I wouldn’t dare harm someone who needed my help.”

Sorcha glared at him, meeting his gaze without flinching. This man could threaten her all he wished. She refused to bow to a man who treated his loved ones like slaves.

The king dropped his hand, chuckling. “I will leave three guards by the door. If they hear anything unusual, even the slightest of sounds, they will bring your head to me on a platter.”

“I am doubtful my head would satisfy your pallet,” she growled. “Might I suggest a more tasteful organ?”

The grin on his face was as feral as her words. Fionn turned, snapped his fingers, and left with half of his guards. More than three remained standing at attention.