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“Please stop eating.” Calandra sobbed in between bites of raw chicken. “I beg of you.”
I gagged. “Wake up!”
Aeron placed his fork down and arched a brow—sharing a look with Kelvin, who tore into a piece of raw steak.
“It’s a glamor. All of it!” I cried.
“Elowyn,” King Harkin drawled, crossing his legs. Stars, how badly I wanted to smack that smug expression off his face. “Did you forget our conversation already? It’s disrespect?—”
“Focus on the smell.” I cut him a sideways glare. “And the texture. It’s spoiled, Kelvin. Focus. This is a trick.”
He examined the piece of steak on his fork, twirling it around to see every angle before putting it into his mouth, squinting as he chewed.
I held my breath, the putrid smell becoming harder to stomach by the second.
It took less than two rotations of his jaw before Kelvin spit it out—his face turning green as he took in the horror surrounding him. Vomit tumbled from his mouth and onto his lap. He tried to flee but was stuck in place, the king’s magic forcing him to remain at the table, too.
“What did you do to us!” he demanded and thrashed against the invisible cords.
Prince Bowen let out a squawk of delight, tipping his head back with laughter before abruptly turning serious. Wielding his emotions like a weapon. “Why, we’re giving our guests the feast they deserve.” He deadpanned. His sudden change in demeanor was alarming, as was the way his eyes danced between us with wild intensity.
Aeron remained oblivious as he licked his mold-covered fingers clean. Bugs raced up his forearms that’d fled the item he’d just consumed.
“Come on man, wake up,” Kelvin pleaded. His nails sunk into the blackened turkey crawling with ants. “Your plate is swarming with maggots, man. Don’t do it!”
“Please,” Calandra cried.
Kelvin thrashed against the magic that held him—us—in place and begged him to listen.
King Harkin and Prince Bowen practically fell out of their chairs as they watched Aeron set the turkey down and close his eyes, searching the deepest parts of his mind for a semblance of self-control.
The incantation that bound us to the table—the same one making us move against our will—snapped when Aeron opened his eyes and released us from its claws.
Kelvin and Calandra ran from the table without a second’s hesitation, their chairs crashing to the ground in their frenzied escape.
The room crackled along with the fireplace as Aeron’s grip on his knife tightened, his face pained as he looked up at the king.
He launched out of his seat toward them, spilling dishes as he leaped onto the table.
My heart slammed in my chest.
“Ah, ah, ah.” The king held up a hand. Aeron froze midair. “After the hospitality we showed you, that wouldn’t be very smart, now, would it?”
Aeron’s forehead wrinkled in pain as, one by one, his fingers were plucked off the knife until it fell from his grip.
“There you go, much better,” the king continued, nodding to the prince, and they stood to leave. “Now get back to your chamber before I decide to make an example of your disrespect. And you.” He looked at me, and my bladder threatened to empty. “Get yourself cleaned up. The ball begins in a few hours. It’d be a shame if you were late.”
Twenty-Three
Ikept my hand planted over my mouth as I sprinted down the corridor, trying not to vomit all over the polished marble floor. It felt like I had maggots crawling up my throat—cockroaches swimming around in my belly. I couldn’t take a breath. Too afraid that the putrid smell of the decayed ham had permanently singed my nostrils.
I paused, catching myself on the ivory wall as my stomach violently churned. Their laughter and mocking, smug satisfaction haunted my mind.
Aeron hurried past me, his shirt soiled, and it took every ounce of self-preservation to push myself off that wall and keep walking. Keep moving. I’d be damned if the king or any of the fae court saw me in such a state?—
“Chin up.” Talon looped his arm around my waist and helped me off the wall. I staggered into him, holding onto him for dear life—my anchor. “Focus on your breathing. We’re almost to your chamber.”
I did what he said, stopping and restarting multiple times as I became too engrossed by his touch. We never should’ve kissed. Training with him was already next to impossible—as was pretending I didn’t feel any sort of attraction toward him. How was I going to face him every day now? My insides knotted, and I forced my vomit back down.
