The Cursed Fae King: A Sexy Fantasy Romance Series (The Cursed Kingdoms Series Book 2)

by A. K. Koonce

  “Well, there isn’t really much left to say then, aside from that asshole bit.” Miranda raises his red eyebrows, watching me. “You should make it up to her somehow. Maybe start by vowing not to take off the heads of anyone unless they do something really bad. Like have sex with a goat. Or a sheep. One of those little long-necked animals that looks a bit like both, ya know? Now those are crimes that should end with a head on a stick.”

  I blink slowly, trying to weed through half of the nonsense he just said. “Make it up to her how?”

  “Like a gift.” He claps his hands together loudly. Avoiding stepping on any pieces of glass, he walks toward me, a new excitement gleaming in his green eyes. “Like a date.”

  “A date?” I say the words slowly, tasting them on my lips as if I’d never courted a girl before. I’ve been out with girls, I’ve taken girls to bed, and none of that seems nearly as scary as actually getting Syren all to myself after seeing her get so upset. It would probably be for the best if I stay away from water for a while.

  She might actually drown me this time.

  With both hands, Miranda grips my shoulders, shaking me gently. “Woo her, my friend. Show her that smooth seductive side of you that got all the woman back when we took that trip to the Eastern Kingdom. Remember that? Do you remember those girls? Do you?”

  His eyes are round like he’s entranced with the thoughts inside his skull right now.

  Miranda has always been prouder of that trip than I ever was. I was young and sad after the loss of my mother, so I wallowed by drowning myself in women. After so long, I have forgotten the faces of many of those women, but the strange feeling of loneliness I had during that time is still so familiar.

  “She’s already mine. She already agreed to marry me. Why would I continue to try and woo her?”

  Miranda’s face falls from eager and excited to amused and mildly horrified. “Do you want her to love you or not? Look I know, trust me, I know you aren’t great with expressing your feelings, apart from anger, but show the girl a little love. Do you love her?”

  “She’s my mate. She’s accepted it.” I shake my head, still unsure, mostly confused as to why I’d waste my time on something so unnecessary.

  “Not the point.” He waves his hands in the air, dismissing the thought. “Put yourself in her shoes. Just for a minute. Let me paint you a picture. Okay, you’re a happy little mer-princess eager to marry a handsome prince. Said fuckhole prince refuses to meet with your pretty little self and instead sends you off to fend for yourself on a deserted island. Then the wishy-washy prince changes his mind, comes to get you, and drags you, very unwillingly, to his castle. It’s dusty and smells like roasted fae skin instead of the warm scent of southern sweet seaweed—”

  “Is seaweed sweet?”

  He waves my question off.

  “You finally start to feel comfortable here even though death is literally throwing itself at you like a desperate ex-boyfriend, so you go out to see the less-than-charming kingdom firsthand. Then you’re tricked by a criminal. You die.” He makes a gasping show of his death and at this point, I’m a little curious if he’s always been this theatrical. “For seven bloody days, you’re deader than turkey on All Saints Grieving Day. You come back from the mermaid fishy afterlife, thank the Goddess, and the first thing your fuckerberry king does is cut off the head of the last person you saw alive. And sent away your one and only friend. Aside from yours truly of course.” He winks ridiculously, and then, he just looks at me carefully to see if any of that ridiculousness sunk in.

  Seconds pass with that watchful stare cutting into me.

  “Fuck. Okay, I get it. I’m sorry I hurt her. I don’t like that I hurt her.” My fingers drag over my features, down my face, the stubble on my chin rough against my palm. I really don’t like it. Twisting tightly, my gut churns with overwhelming anxiety and regret. “I’ll do something.” I continue. “I’ll plan something. Just . . . I need time.”

  Miranda squeezes my shoulders. “I know you’ve got this, my friend. You’re king of the Northern Kingdom. Now you need to be king of Syren’s heart, too. Not any easy task. She’s a difficult girl.”

  Difficult. Right. That doesn’t explain the half of her wild personality.

  He turns on his heel, walking away, speaking hastily to a servant and pointing to the mess of wine. Before he leaves the room entirely, he stops, giving me a sincere look. “Syren will make a wonderful queen, and if you two could just figure out how to work together, you’d make an even better team.”

  I wearily shake my head at him, turning away.

  Despite what Miranda says, despite the look on Syren’s face, I know I did the right thing keeping her safe.

  A sigh shoves from my lungs. The last seven days weigh heavily on my shoulders. I stayed up for hours holding her. Sweat clung to me as I burrowed beneath the blankets and held her lifeless body against me.

  I was fucking terrified the man who did it to her had lied.

  She’s the kingdom’s last hope.

  And she’s mine, too.

  Six

  Jealousy in Bloom

  Syren

  The time has finally come. When I step outside, the air is cool and crisp and exactly how I imagined the season to feel. Smoke hangs in the air, but for once, I don’t smell the decaying scent of death. Today is the day when I realize that I’ve grown accustomed to the Northern Kingdom, to the natural smells of the city.

  The dangling stirrups of the heavy saddle leave behind long trailing lines of broken flowers and bent brush. Leather digs into the knuckles of my fingers, but I ignore the small biting feeling. Bear is currently working to get his new weapons master set up to successfully carry on the duties of Donovan. May the Goddess guide him in his next life. Which means I have thirty minutes to saddle a horse and get off of royal property.

  Easy. It’s so easy. I try to tell myself even though I know it’s not. I have half a mind to try and sweet talk the new weapons master, but he doesn’t seem like the type who knows what a friend even is. So I’m trying my hand at sneaking through the garden.

  “What’s your name?” I growl at my guard as he follows me but refuses to help me carry the saddle.

  “Rigs.” He grunts. It’s the same guard who accompanied me and Hemphway when we ran into that terrible merchant. It’s a wonder he didn’t meet the same fate. But he’s too much like Bear. Bear sent him here to do what Hemphway never did: be my voice of reason.

  Good luck with that, Rigs.

  “Well, Rigs, I’m glad you still have your job and your head.” I growl, trying to lift the saddle up and over a particularly tall bush. “Care to help me?”

  “No, Princess. I’d like to keep my head where it is at. So I’m sorry, but I can’t help you today. Not when I can only imagine we are sneaking through this garden for no good reason.”

  I chuckle sourly. “I have good reason.”

  Red thorny roses bloom near bouquets of baby's breath and a few other flowers I can’t name. The garden itself smells like a burnt bottle of perfume. But beauty flourishes here with the blessing of magic without restraint or worry of the disease that kills the rest of this land.

  I can hear the stables over the tall green bushes. With an annoyed look at the guard who has left me to struggle, I grunt overdramatically as I hoist the saddle over yet another plant.

  “There are easier ways to the stable.”

  The feminine voice grates over my nerves, plucking at the taunt cords of my already short patience. Aisha stands up from where she’s carefully tending to a plant. Her hands are protected by thick gray gloves, and her face is shaded by a navy-blue sun hat that sits atop her pale blond hair, matching the blue of her skirt. That dress is far too fancy for digging in the dirt of a garden, especially next to an array of dirty gardening tools and a small rusty pail of water but as the castle’s healer she makes her own remedies. Fine ones. That’s probably why she’s allowed to hang around her ex fiancé.

  Or so I tell
myself.

  “Oh.” I decide to feign stupidity with a light laugh. “I thought I was taking a short cut.”

  Aisha straightens a bracelet that jingles against her slender wrist, her glassy unblinking eyes narrowing despite the pleasant smile gracing her full lips. “After last night’s show, I would think you’d choose not to leave the castle grounds.” She gives the guard behind me a sad look. “You are foolish.”

  I pause, hearing Bear’s words echo in my mind. “Have you—are you spending time with King Iri?”

  “Oh no.” Her skirt twirls around her as she twists toward another flower. “You were just not available during prayer, and he really, really needed a listening ear.” She gives me a sly look from under the brim of her hat.

  I want to smack the stupid garment off her head. It’s not even sunny outside because of all the fucking fog in this kingdom.

  “What a shame he had to stoop so low for someone to listen to the piddly complaints of such a spoiled king.” I brush curly blue strands out of my face and adjust my grip on the saddle. “Next time, I’ll try to be around so you won’t have to try to swallow down his cock—I mean his complaints.” I smile sweetly at her.

  Rig’s surprised laughter only makes her scowl deepen.

  She’s quick to recover though, I’ll give her that.

  “As long as you can manage not to die today. Right?” She claps her hands together.

  This woman has balls.

  Aisha straightens her shoulders and gives me an easy wave.

  “Good luck, Princess.”

  I divert my eyes to the guard who watches the ground with a level of scrutiny that I’ve never seen anyone else master. So, in light of the fact that my time is dwindling, I turn back the direction I’m headed.

  And grin wildly when I hear Aisha curse as the bucket of water sloshes all over the skirt of her dress. If she wants to look like a water fae, I’ll help her out and let her get her hands wet. Behind me, the guard stifles another quiet laugh.

  Agatha, the mermaid that I traded with on the island, would caution me to think a moment longer before I throw myself back into the kingdom I know so little about. But Agatha isn’t here.

  And this deadly curse is.

  A dusty dirt trail leads between the garden and the stables, a short cut mostly used by staff. Annoyed by my own desire to avoid confrontation with Bear, I kick at the dirt until I round the corner into the large barn.

  “Oh, Goddess.” A young boy mutters as he sees me with the saddle. Quickly, he ushers himself forward taking it from my hand. “Which horse would you like to be fitted?”

  “Such manners. You’re surely the kindest man in all these lands.” I say, shooting a satisfied smile at Rigs. He rolls his eyes. “Your fastest winged horse, please.”

  The boy trots away. Standing in the stall nearest me, Miranda brushes down a horse. A red shirt is messily tucked into the waistband of black trousers that are gathered over the top of black pointed toe boots.

  “You know if you want to run away, a hot air balloon would be faster. Our fastest winged horse is fast, but not so fast that the King won't find you.” Miranda tosses the brush to the ground and leans against the gate between us.

  “No, no, not running away. Just adventuring.”

  “Is that what you were doing last time you went out? Adventuring?” He winks before reaching for a rag that rests on a metal bar and dusting his hands off on it. “Tell me what you’re really doing.”

  Miranda is here because Bear sent him, I’m sure of it.

  I scared him and hurt him. And he hurt me. I don’t know if that makes us even now or something.

  It certainly doesn’t feel like it.

  My mouth opens, half of me wanting to tell Miranda, the other half of me wondering if he will think I’m blasphemous for doubting their curse. Maybe I’ll keep it to myself just a little longer until I can find some substantial proof.

  “I want to get to know this land. How am I supposed to help rule it when I know very little about it?” I pick at what little lace I have on my dress. Rigs shuffles quietly behind me.

  Almost on cue, the stable hand rounds the corner, tugging along a big, winged horse with shining copper hair that glints in the light like gold. Moments later, another hand brings out a smaller, wingless black horse with white spots on her back.

  Miranda pushes open the gate between us. “Care if I join you today?”

  Bear definitely sent him.

  “Oh, surely you have something better to do.” I try to wave him off, turning to take the reins of the golden horse being offered.

  “Nope.” Miranda smiles. I don’t see any spurs, but with every step he takes, he jingles. From the gate to the rack, holding an array of tools and pieces meant to dress the horses, and back to the horse he so carefully brushed, I hear Miranda rather than see him. My eyes stay focused on my animal as I pet her and press a kiss to her nose.

  “Princess, this is Honey, and your guard will be riding Coco. Most of the winged horses are kept privately for carriage trips. But Honey here has had a bad left wing for several years now. She’s still the fastest of them all, though.” The stable hand bows low, his light brown hair dragging against the hay covered ground before he rights himself and makes himself busy elsewhere.

  I guess we won’t be flying anywhere. I bite my lip at that small letdown.

  “Give me a hand?” I ask Rigs, who stiffly nods and lifts me up atop the horse.

  After adjusting myself, I look up to find Miranda already in the seat of his own saddle on the back of a dusty gray-spotted mare. He gestures for me to lead. This was the part I wasn’t so sure of.

  “I, uh, don’t actually know where I’m going,” I manage, looking up at Miranda from under my long eyelashes. Rigs sighs behind me.

  “What kind of adventure do you want to have?” Miranda asks.

  “I want to see wildflowers.” And hopefully, not any tricky merchants. The last one died before paying me what I was owed.

  Miranda puckers his lips in thought. “Think you can keep up?”

  “I have the fastest horse our kingdom has to offer. I think I can manage.” I pat Honey’s neck.

  “It has more to do with how well you ride than if your horse is fast or not. But I’m sure you have it under control.” Miranda kicks his heels into the sides of his horse, calling out and snapping at the reins. He takes off, leaving me coughing in a cloud of dust.

  With a curse, I follow suit. The animal beneath me feels strong and wild in her gallop. Emerald-green material from my skirt bounces with each bumpy movement. Wind caresses my face, tossing my hair back behind my shoulders. It kisses my cheeks, leaving them red.

  The courtyard leaves in a blur, as do the guarded gates and the nearly empty shops outside the castle grounds. I don’t bother to look for Rigs when I can hear his horse following closely behind us.

  Rocky roads turn to dirt paths that turn into trampled trails through tall grass. Buildings become more distant, fewer and farther between, giving way to the open space of overgrown fields and dense forests. The sun travels slowly across the sky as we ride.

  I can hear the soothing calm of crashing waves. The image of frothy water licking against the sandy beach comes to mind.

  “Sometimes I miss my deserted island.” I muse aloud as our horses slow to a stop.

  “Yeah, you don’t seem like much of a people person.” Rigs says under his breath as he climbs off his horse.

  “Wow, that was very rude of you to say.” I scowl at Miranda when he laughs heartily, jumping down from his horse and leading it over a small hill.

  “Honesty isn’t offensive; you’re just offended.” Rigs avoids eye contact as he follows Miranda’s lead. He pauses to offer me a hand down, but I wave him off with an overdramatic roll of my eyes and fall out of the seat myself.

  A breeze that tastes like sunshine and sea salt whips past us. With my one free hand, I dig my fingers into my cloak and hug it to me a little bit tighter until the w
ind calms.

  “Well,” Miranda gestures toward the land in front of him with an open palm. “Wild flowers.”

  Running up the hill, I pull my horse beside me, only stopping when my gaze meets the view. Crashing waves slap against the shore. Yet that isn’t the breath-taking part. Along the grass line where sand dots into plants and brush, patches of watercolor wildflowers grow.

  I hand the reins off to Rigs, lifting my heavy skirt and jogging across the grassland and the sand. Flowers of blue, purple, red, orange, and yellow make the beach look more like an exotic paradise than the rocky shore of the Northern Kingdom.

  For a single second, it’s like I’m back on my island again.

  “It’s so lovely.” I reach a hand out, raising a strand of water up and bringing it to my palm. Slick, thick, and muddy. Lake. It speaks to me. But it isn’t what I’ve come for. I let the water fall, leaving a wet line of sand between where I stood and the lake, choosing to meander through the flowers.

  Immediately, I dart to the yellow ones. They aren’t the same, though. The flower, crumbling and rotting in my pocket, is a small bud with five curved pedals. Here, the yellow flowers are deep bell shapes with hints of purple near their centers.

  Sighing, I move on, choosing to pick a couple of purple flowers. Miranda watches me with a blank face, his arms crossed over his slender chest. In passing, I tuck a flower behind his ear. One eyebrow raises, but he makes no move to remove the bloom.

  “So, how does seeing wildflowers help you get to know the kingdom?” Miranda reaches down, brushing his fingers along the blossoms beside him.

  “Well, for starters I would like to know my way around enough not to get lost.” I muse, very convincingly it would seem, by Miranda’s skeptical expression.

  “Just tell me what you’re looking for.” Miranda kicks at the sand. His boots are already dirty from his business in the stables and look odd against the beach.

  “I’m looking for . . .” I point one of the blossoms at him, closing one eye as if to perfect my aim. “Gossip.”