The Fae King's Curse

by Jamie Schlosser

  Within less than twenty-four hours, I’ve almost died twice. It was pure coincidence that I wasn’t in the carriage when the bomb went off.

  Just thinking about the incident causes a wave of anxiety.

  “Yeah,” I lie, wishing we could stop to rest.

  I want to get out of this tattered gown. It smells like a campfire, which just reminds me of my brush with death. More than anything, I wish I could have a few minutes to myself. I predict a minor—or major—breakdown in my near future, and I’d prefer to do it in private.

  It feels like we’ve been traveling for hours and hours. And maybe we have. It’s hard to tell when there’s no sun to give away the time.

  I will not ask how much longer it’ll take until we get there. I will not.

  “How’s your ass?” Damon asks lightly.

  I roll my eyes, but I’m glad for his cheeky attitude. It’s definitely needed right now.

  “Don’t talk about her ass,” Kirian snaps. “Don’t even think about her ass.”

  “Seriously? I just sacrificed my golden locks for your mate. You’d think you could be a little more grateful.”

  “I’ll be grateful when I talk to your witch. She’ll tell me who’s doing this. Whoever’s going after Quinn will pay with their life. I won’t be satisfied until their head is on a pike in my courtyard.” As the morbid promise rolls from him like thunder, the wildflowers on either side of the road flatten to the ground. The wispy trees sway away, and birds scatter.

  His bare shoulders ripple in the moonlight as he tenses, strangling the reins in his white-knuckled hands. My nipples pucker, and heat blooms between my thighs.

  Why’s he so hot when he’s bloodthirsty?

  It doesn’t help that he’s naked from the waist up. He literally gave Gunther the shirt off his back so the driver could maintain some dignity when he flew back to the castle to report the news.

  Obviously, Kirian values his workers. Treats them like friends. Family, even. Which is why it’s so puzzling to me that he has a traitor lurking somewhere. Who would go against such a respectable leader?

  Just thinking about it gives me the willies. Digging into the pocket of my dress, I find my marbles. At least I still have these. I circle them in my palm, concentrating on the way they clack against each other.

  I close my eyes, and for a second, I’m able to clear my mind.

  Suddenly, Kirian reaches over and snatches one before pushing it into his own pocket. “That belongs to me, thank you very much.”

  My lips twist as I slide a glance his way, but I can’t disagree. I’ve been making do with one marble for years. Honestly, it doesn’t feel right to have them both.

  Torius whistles loudly, and my entire body locks up.

  “What?” I gasp, my grip tightening on the reins. “What does that mean?”

  Kirian reaches over to graze my cheek with his thumb. “Calm, my love, and look ahead.”

  I do as he says. Straining to see in the darkness, I perk up when I catch a glimpse of a faint light in the distance.

  I never thought I’d be so happy to see a lamppost. “A town?”

  “A small village called Ailee,” Kirian confirms. “It’ll do for supplies and a place to sleep.”

  “Oh, good.” I release a relieved breath.

  As we get closer, I see rows of little houses. They’re adorable, with stone walls and straw roofs. Unfortunately, I don’t think we’ll fit inside. When we pass them, I realize they didn’t look small because we were far away—they’re actually tiny, not even as tall as my horse.

  “Um—” Throwing a questioning glance at the guys, I point at the nearest cottage.

  “This is the gnome district,” Kirian informs me. “The farther we get from the castle, the more you’ll see all kinds of citizens, not just fae.”

  “Did you say gnomes?” My eyes get wide.

  “The king! The king is here!”

  I look over just in time to see a stout little man running to each door, knocking as he announces Kirian’s arrival. His voice is higher, like he just sucked in helium from a balloon.

  I bite my lip to keep from laughing, because that would be rude.

  But he’s just so dang cute. Even with the pointy hat, he’s barely two feet tall. As others join in on the quest to alert the neighborhood, more gnomes start running from door to door. Entire families pour out into the road, and children chase each other around.

  It’s wonderful chaos, and for a second, I forget all the bad shit that’s happened.

  Torius throws up a hand signal, and I recognize it as the one he uses when we’re stopping. The horses slow, and then we’re just standing in the street among the excitement.

  Soon, all the residents are surrounding us as they kneel. They’re fair-skinned and most have light hair. Both males and females wear regular clothes—a variety of pants and button-up shirts—and they all have the same red hats on.

  My mom had garden gnome statues. She used to tell me tales about how they tended to her garden at night when no one was looking. I used to think her stories were so silly, but maybe those myths came from something real.

  Collectively, all the villagers get to their feet and face the king.

  “What do you need, Your Majesty?” a woman asks, tilting her head far back so she can look up at Kirian.

  She’s older and plump, and there’s a red apron around her waist.

  “Nothing,” Kirian replies kindly, using a warm tone as he smiles. He’s fond of these people. “We’re just passing through, but I want you all to meet my mate, Quinn.”

  Oh, here we go again with the mate business. Sometimes I feel like he should just say it like it is—here’s the human I settled for.

  At least the gnomes’ reaction is a lot different than the fae nobles. There’s no sneering or whispering about my appearance. None of them look upset. No one even comments on the dirt and destruction I’m literally wearing on my dress.

  No, it’s the opposite—unbridled joy follows.

  There’s cheering and jumping. Some of the children start running around again and watching them waddle might be the best part of my visit to Valora so far. Aside from sleeping next to Kirian, of course. That was unbelievably awesome, and I’m looking forward to a repeat.

  As if reading my mind, Kirian says, “We need to find lodging for the night. Carry on with your evening.”

  “Hail, Queen Quinn!” It’s a united shout from everyone around us, and for the first time since coming here, I feel welcomed. Valued. Appreciated and respected.

  I want to thank each and every one of them for being so accepting, but they start disappearing back into their homes. The enthusiastic murmuring fades away as the crowd disperses.

  A family of four stays on their front stoop, waving. They have two daughters, and I smile as I wave back. The kids giggle and hop, gaping at their parents in shock, like they can’t believe I acknowledged them. A third girl scurries out from behind the mom, and she’s got something in her hand as she runs to the other side of Kirian’s horse.

  “Wait! For the queen. I already took the thorns off.” She holds up a dark-blue rose. She’s so short I can’t see her face, but she waves the flower until Kirian takes it.

  He gives it a sniff before handing it to me. “It’s a Midnight Rose from their garden. It takes decades to cultivate these flowers, and receiving one is the highest honor.”

  “It’ll stay alive for at least a year!” the child shouts, darting under Kirian’s horse to approach me. She’s got blond shoulder-length hair, rosy cheeks, and the cutest button nose.

  “Thank you,” I breathe out, truly touched. “I wish I had something to give you, too.”

  “A hug will do.” Reaching up for me, she spreads her tiny arms wide.

  “Fiona,” her mother reprimands, coming over to drag her daughter back to their house. “Don’t be ridiculous. The royals don’t hug us.”

  Fiona’s lip wobbles as she’s taken farther away, and my heart breaks for
her a little. She gifted me with more than just a rose. She offered acceptance, which is worth more to me than any object.

  And let’s face it—after the day I’ve had, I could use a hug or a hundred.

  “Technically, I’m not a royal yet,” I say, impulsively deciding to grant her request.

  Swinging my leg over the saddle, I wait for Kirian’s protest when my foot touches the ground, but it doesn’t come. He doesn’t make a peep as I follow the family to their stoop.

  Kneeling, I put myself at eye level with Fiona. Her big blue eyes dart from me to her mom, as if she’s asking permission.

  Slack-jawed, her mother seems too shocked to respond, so I scoop the little girl into my arms. She’s heavier than she looks. I end up setting her on my thigh, and she hugs me back with fervor, giggling in my ear.

  “No fair,” the other kids complain. “We want a hug, too.”

  Pulling back, I wave the flower. “You’re in luck because this seems to have given me an unlimited hug supply.”

  They don’t need to be told twice. Barreling toward me so fast they almost knock me over, they latch onto my neck.

  “Girls!” their parents scold, standing off to the side, fretting as they wring their hands.

  I can’t talk because I’m being squeezed too hard—these kids have a surprising amount of strength—so I send them a thumbs up.

  With a confused tilt of their heads, the man and woman look at the lone digit pointing up in the air, and it occurs to me that they’ve probably never seen that hand gesture before.

  “It’s a good thing,” I manage to say, though my air supply is limited.

  Before I know it, the other families are piling out of their houses again, and I’m surrounded by two dozen gnome children. They take turns climbing onto my lap and wrapping their chubby little arms around me; the smallest boy of the neighborhood has had three turns already. They smell like flowers and grass, and they all exude innocence and happiness.

  I’m not sure I’ve ever smiled this hard.

  “That’s enough,” an older gnome says gently, patting each kid on the head before sending them away. “Let the queen breathe.”

  “Please, call me Quinn,” I tell him.

  He smiles behind his long white beard while leaning heavily on a cane made from a knotted tree branch. When the last of the kids toddles away, he turns his blue eyes on me. “You’re going to make a wonderful mother someday, Quinn.”

  “Thank you.” My grin fades.

  As nice as the compliment is, it reminds me if Kirian and I go through with this mating business, I’m the hope of a kingdom. That my ability to have children—with Kirian—is what will ensure the royal bloodline continues.

  But there are two problems. I’m not his fated mate and I’m human. I’m not even sure if it’s possible for us to reproduce. I’ve always wanted to be a mom. When I’ve thought about my future, the career path was always unclear, but a family was definitely in my vision.

  As I say goodbye to the gnomes, I try to hold onto their contagious cheerfulness.

  Once we’re on our way again, I can’t help glancing behind us. A laugh bursts from me when I see all of them standing in the road giving me the thumbs up sign.

  Like it’s my own personal salute.

  I smile over at Kirian. “That was really fun.”

  Pleased, he grins. “The gnomes are a friendly, peaceful bunch. We’ll pass through here again on the way back. I’ll be sure to bring them something special for making you happy.”

  I nod, already looking forward to it. “That’s a good idea.”

  “You made them happy, too.” Approval is strong in Kirian’s tone. “You have no idea what your affection means to them. They have a long history of being subjected to mistreatment and discrimination, so to be treated as equals by you… well, they’ll never forget it. You have their loyalty for life. They’re probably breaking out the sugar beet vodka to celebrate right now.”

  “Is that safe?” I imagine the little people staggering around drunk. “They’re so small.”

  Kirian barks out a laugh.

  “Don’t let their size fool you. One thing I can say about gnomes is that they can handle their alcohol. They could drink all four of us under the table.” He gestures to Damon, Torius, and Kai.

  “It’s true,” Kai says. “I challenged one to a contest once. I’ll never do that again. The next day I woke up naked in a sprite forest seven miles away. I still don’t know what happened that night.”

  That sounds like some of the stories the high school seniors used to brag about after a weekend party. The longer I’m here, the more I’m noticing the similarities between their world and mine. Last night at the ball was especially tough for me. Being surrounded by all those fae nobles made me feel like I was fifteen again.

  I realize that’s why I had an instant connection with the gnomes. Like me, they’re not given a fair chance.

  “How could anyone possibly dislike them?” I ask Kirian. “They’re so nice and cute.”

  “It’s not about like or dislike. By some, they’re viewed as lesser beings. They don’t live as long as fae. They can’t fight. They don’t have powers. In the past, they’ve been used for hard labor in the mountains because they’re small and they can fit into tight spaces. That’s illegal now. In the Night Realm, anyway.”

  After we pass some trees, another neighborhood looms ahead. The farther we go into the village, the bigger the homes get. Through lit windows, I can see people milling about their kitchens.

  Like a good tour guide, Kirian explains we’re going by the troll dwellings. Apparently, their average height is about four feet tall and they’re a versatile species. Some possess minor powers. A few dabble in witchcraft, but witchcraft isn’t exclusive to one type of person. Anyone can be born with the ability to cast spells and see the future, though it’s rare. To sum it up, not all witches are trolls, but some trolls are witches.

  The two-story buildings on either side of us are full-size now. Inside, fae families are gathering around dining tables.

  I can smell the food.

  My stomach growls. I haven’t eaten since breakfast. We had canteen-like things the guys kept calling waterskins, and Kirian’s had the waterfall mist in it. Somehow, it stayed ice cold all day. He was right—very refreshing. So at least I’m not dehydrated, but I’d give just about anything for a sandwich right now.

  “The inn is right here,” Kirian announces, coming to a stop next to a post to tie up our horses.

  I look at the Tudor-style house. The roof is steep in several places, and the exterior is covered in a combination of wood planks and light-colored stone. There’s no sign out front to indicate it’s a business. If Kirian hadn’t said so, I wouldn’t have known it’s a hotel.

  Although he doesn’t need to, Kirian helps me down from the horse. It’s flattering that he wants to touch me every chance he gets. As my feet land on the ground, he combs his fingers through my hair.

  “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah,” I answer. It’s the same response I’ve been giving him all day whenever he asks.

  It’s not exactly the truth, and we both know it. But what else can I say? I don’t want to unload on him in front of all his big, tough friends. They probably already think I’m fragile and weak. Unfit for the title of queen. Not right for Kirian.

  And they wouldn’t be wrong.

  Bumping his forehead against mine, Kirian’s hands linger at my waist. “You have no idea how glad I am that you weren’t hurt today. It’s only by your own stubbornness you weren’t harmed. If you hadn’t been so ridiculously, unbelievably, infuriatingly impatient during our travel—”

  Insulted, I interrupt him by clearing my throat.

  He grins wickedly, but his smile disappears when he solemnly finishes, “You would’ve been in there. You’d be gone, Quinn. I’ve never felt this distraught before. It’s like I’m too devastated to be angry. I feel powerless, and I don’t like it.”

  A
s his hands frame my face, I grip his muscular forearms. “You’ll keep me safe.”

  Even with all the shit that’s happened, I still believe that. Today wasn’t his fault.

  “What if I can’t?” His question is husky with emotion. “If I lose you, I’ll die. I can’t face the rest of my life without you. I live for you now. I—I think I always have, if I’m being honest.”

  Wow, he’s intense. But I dig it. When he says things like that, it makes it really hard for me to stick to the plan of not jumping his bones.

  I wrap my arms around his middle and press the side of my face to his bare chest.

  Hugging is okay. At least the curse never said anything about that.

  Kirian’s skin is warm, and his heart thumps loudly beneath my ear. There’s a small spasm inside my chest, and I swear our pulses sync up. Something about being near this man calms me. When we touch, it’s like all my problems fade into the background.

  I’m aware of the guys waiting for us by the front entrance of the inn, though they talk quietly amongst themselves, giving us the illusion of privacy.

  The streets are empty. All the fae families must be too busy eating to notice our arrival. Or they don’t care. Either way, I’m glad we have a minute to ourselves. I’m used to being alone with Kirian. Having him all to myself.

  This is the first quiet moment we’ve had since we woke up this morning. I know it won’t last, but I want to keep it for a little while longer.

  Unfortunately, my stomach chooses to let out an angry rumble.

  “Come.” Kirian steps back and holds out a hand. “You’re hungry.”

  Sighing, I go with him. When we get inside, the smell of food makes my mouth water. It reminds me of Thanksgiving dinner—roasted meat, fresh-baked bread, herbs and spices.

  There’s a bar along the right wall with a female bartender serving frothy liquid in a clear mug to the one customer they have.

  The man—a thin fae with long stringy hair—does a double take when Kirian walks through the door.

  “Your Majesty,” he slurs, before dropping to the floor.