Page 5 of Fae Trials

Prince Rory tilted his head to the side as though puzzling something out. I swallowed hard, waiting to see if he would take offense at my words.

“You there!” A ridiculously beautiful platinum-haired girl slid down from the drake.

She placed both hands on her hips and sashayed toward us, wearing a white blouse that hugged her perfect figure with the wine-and-violet tartan tie of the Royal Fae Academy. The matching skirt skimmed impossibly long legs, ending in heeled shoes that clacked against the cobblestones like the beat of a war drum.

I blinked, trying to make sense of the approaching faerie. Despite the impending danger, I couldn’t help marvel at how she out-dazzled every single girl on America’s Top Model.

“Do you know who you’re shouting at?” Her haughty English accent set my teeth on edge.

I clenched my jaw. Shit! Why had I allowed myself to get annoyed in public?

Sicily stepped between us, both palms raised. “My sister didn’t mean any harm.”

Casting my sister a withering glance, the faerie strode past and fixed me with blue eyes as pale and as cold as frost. “You didn’t answer my question.”

My gaze flicked to Prince Rory, who now stood by the beast, patting the scales on its flank. From the tightness in his jaw, he looked like he wanted to be anywhere else but standing on the roadside watching his companion act like a twat.

I caught his eye, and he glanced away, his lips quirking into a smile. The faerie girl flared her nostrils and huffed. “Are you deaf? Do you need a larger pair of ears?”

Dread tightened my stomach. The magic protecting humans from faerie mischief didn’t work if the human had caused the faerie offense.

Sicily cleared her throat. “Please, My Lady, if there’s anything—”

“One more word from you, and it will be your last,” she snarled, her eyes narrowed on me.

Fuck. I couldn’t let my sister get hurt. People left the stalls to watch the spectacle. Ogres, trolls, centaurs, and satyrs mingled with humans to form a crowd of curious onlookers. I guess every species on the Isle of Fae could smell the trouble in the air. Hopefully, I could say something humble enough to satisfy her, and we could go home.

Bobbing into a curtsey, I said, “My Lady, I apologize for causing offense when I shouted at the drake.”

Her lip curled. “You ought to know your place. If it wasn’t for the light fae, humans would still warm our beds and pull plows.”

Anger surged through my veins, hot and dark. She acted like they’d given us a ticket to the Big Brother house. Humans still disappeared all the time, and according to rumors, they did worse than serve fairies as whores and slaves.

This bimbo probably thought King Oberon had defeated Queen Maeve without the help of the United Nations and that the containers they sent every day were a feat of fae superiority. I itched to throw the truth in her arrogant face, but that would give her grounds to turn me into an ass.

Staring at my feet, I said, “I beg your pardon, My Lady.”

“It’s not me who needs the apology,” she snapped.

I raised my head and met the bored gaze of her gorgeous, red-haired companion. “Your Highness—”

“Not him,” she snapped. “The drake.”

I ground my teeth and turned to the snarling reptile, who glared at me through malevolent, amber eyes. “Sorry for—”

“No.” Her voice hit me like a club.

Fear and anger mingled through my gut, making me want to spit. “My Lady?”

The faerie’s cruel lips twisted into a smile that made my blood run cold. At that moment, I saw her for what she was—a wicked, immoral creature whose beauty did nothing to cover her blackened heart.

“Did you know that drakes blow fire from two orifices?” she asked.

My heart thudded so hard that it rattled my ribcage. I couldn’t answer as the membranes of my throat stuck together. Instead of voicing my answer, I shook my head.

Her grin widened. “When drakes leave their natural habitats, we have to seal their anuses, so they don’t spew out molten shit.”

I glanced at Sicily, whose face had turned the color of diluted milk, and then to the prince. He tilted his head up to the sky and huffed. It was one of those exasperated expressions men wore when they thought a woman was making too much of a fuss of something trivial.