Page 41 of Fae Games

Flora picked up the dress and slipped her hands under its skirt, getting it ready for me. When I’d removed my last scrap of clothing, she said, “Bend down. I’m going to use your cock-ring to fix your hair in place.”

I knelt, engulfed by the softest silk that glided against my skin like the softest caress. Slipping my arms through the top of the gown, I straightened. The opaque fabric underneath the gossamer parted for my wings and molded around my form.

Flora twisted the back of my hair and pinned it above my head. “There were a few stray flowers on the bed, so I’ve woven them into your hairstyle. Turn around.”

“Wow.” Flora stepped back, her eyes round and shining with awe. “I see why the princes chose you.”

“What do you mean?” I glanced down at the dress, marveling at the intricate dance of flowers on its surface. It was both wild and perfect for the four princes.

Flora turned me around, so I faced the mirror.

I sucked a breath. My reflection didn’t look as unearthly radiant under the influence of the Emporium, but Pokeweed’s dress made me look like something carved out of nature. It blended with my form, making my golden hair shine like buttercups and my skin as soft as petals with a rose blush.

A lump formed in my throat. If only Sicily was here to share this moment. She loved makeovers and would have squealed at the sight of me looking like a wildflower spirit. But she wasn’t here, and she would continue to suffer until I fixed things for all of us by getting that wishbone.

Closing my eyes, I sucked in a deep breath and gathered my courage. I was about to walk into a den of girls whose ambitions knew no bounds, a queen with a pathological hatred of me, and two princes who wanted me gone.

I turned to Flora, determination thrumming in my veins. “Let’s go.”

Chapter 11

If this was a movie, my soundtrack wouldn’t be Girls Just Wanna Have Fun or something upbeat and cutesy. It would be the Rocky theme because I was in a fight for my life.

Flora and I strode down the hallway in tense silence. My heart beat a fast, hard rhythm, and I deepened my breathing to remain calm. What if the contest was over and the winners announced? I was in the lead right now and couldn’t remember anyone mentioning a penalty for coming last, but Queen Titania might make the other trials invalid to make sure I ended up with none of her sons.

A male voice echoed through the hallway. “Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome our second contestant!”

Applause and cheers shook my eardrums, but this time, relief swept over me like a summer breeze. If they were only on contestant number two, then I still had time.

As we turned the corner, we found Mr. Whittaker standing outside the dining room doors with a group of remedial students, each beckoning at me to hurry.

My heart flip-flopped, and the first tremors of nerves crept over the lining of my stomach. Sending a silent thanks to Healer Tarax for enchanting me with enough nutritional elixirs to stop me from falling into a faint, I quickened my pace.

“Lady Gazania of Southane,” said the announcer, “What makes you the ideal candidate to win the heart of Prince Bradwell?”

I stepped through the door and swallowed hard. She stood onstage looking… magnificent. Hair like molten fire tumbling over mahogany skin, wearing a deep-yellow dress with accents the color of dried blood, Lady Gazania was the perfect combination of beauty and nobility.

Once the shock of seeing my rival faded, I took stock of my surroundings. The dining tables were still arranged in a semi-circle from yesterday, but this time around a stage of three levels.

Lady Gazania stood at the lowest with a svelte, male faerie dressed in a sky-blue suit that matched his hair. On the next level up sat over a dozen fae nobles, some of whom had been present during the Duchess of Nevermore’s death.

The highest level of the stage backed against the wall. Queen Titania sat on the throne nearest to the door, her hard eyes boring into mine. I dropped my gaze to her dress, which shimmered like Emporium, and looked back at her face. There wasn’t a trace of joy or radiance, making me wonder what she looked like beneath all the cosmetics and glamor.

As Lady Gazania’s speech continued, I scanned the tables. Directly opposite the stage, Princes Caulden and Rory slumped in their seats, looking more tired than usual. Next to them, their two other brothers shot me glowers as fierce as the queen’s.

I raised my chin and glanced back at the stage, acting as though they and their attempts to get rid of me were unimportant.

Flora clapped me hard on the back. “Have you memorized your speech?”

“Huh?” I glanced back at the dark-eyed girl.

“These contests judge inner and outer beauty. If you don’t say something inspirational, you won’t get chosen, no matter how beautiful you look.”

Shaking my head, I huffed out a breath. “I’ll have to say what’s in my heart when I get to the stage, then.”

A round of rousing applause later, the host announced the third candidate. Lady Gala walked onstage, her shoulders slumped, and her platinum hair hanging limply over her gray smock.

Whispers filled the air, and nobody applauded.