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

by A. K. Koonce

  “King Iri has a crush on you like a little boy.” She beams at me.

  I lift an eyebrow skeptically. King Iri and Bear seem to be two entities tied up in one confused body. Bear, brooding and sarcastic, could potentially like me. King Iri, on the other hand, doesn’t think. He only acts and usually not in a good way. But I’ll entertain the idea.

  “How do you know?” I feel a flush redden my face. Perhaps I’m just as much a little girl seeking out information on a handsome boy as he is a little boy with an infatuation.

  “He talks to me a lot when we do fittings.” She shrugs, tugging the material impossibly tighter around my waist. “He wants to make you happy, but everything he does makes you unhappy.”

  “Not everything.” She isn’t wrong. Maybe I’m being too hard on him.

  “You made him break down walls. Now you should break down some of your own.” The seamstress takes a step back, scrutinizing her forced contortionist work she’s done on me.

  I take a sip of air between the crushing feeling of my lungs.

  Break down my walls. Part of me agrees, and part of me complains that it took me so long to build them, why would I take down a perfectly good wall?

  It’s a great fucking wall. It’s done its job diligently for so long now.

  If anything, the wall should be promoted to a higher standing position.

  Maybe King Iri isn’t the only one with a warring mind. Goddess, it irritates the hell out of me when I find something we have in common.

  Three small raps against the door pull me from my thoughts. The thundering of my heart threatens to leap up my throat at the thought of Bear being on the other side of the door. He shouldn’t see me in my dress before the wedding.

  The seamstress, well aware of my distress, pats my back gently. “Bear has been told not to come within fifty yards of this room from either direction, or I’ll pin him to death.” She wields her little needle and turns from me to the door. “Come in, my dear.”

  Without a noise, the door opens, revealing Aisha’s scornful gaze. Her face shifts from mildly annoyed to loathsome as she catches the ivory gown being fitted to my body. The scowl lessens when her eyes reach the ridiculous cake topper on my head.

  I know, okay! I have magic, for Goddess’s sake, and yet a headpiece apparently does it better than I could!

  “Really trying to play up the fact that you’re a water fae, huh?” Aisha glides across the floor, reaching out to flick a dangling gem. Light bounces off of it, casting slices of blue over my face.

  Up close, I can see the way her beauty has been dulled over the past few days since our last conversation. Her normally perfectly curled blond hair is frizzy and sloppily pulled over one shoulder, her eyes bloodshot, and large dark circles peak out from layers of powder-white makeup meant to hide them.

  Goddess, two days working on this curse really ruined her.

  Maybe I should have asked her to do this a long time ago.

  “Could you excuse us for a few minutes?” I ask with all seriousness to the seamstress.

  She huffs a breath, openly offended by the suggestion. “I have work I must attend to in the back anyway.”

  As soon as the silky black dress of the seamstress disappears, Aisha turns back to me. I give her another once-over, ready to break the silence.

  “Why do you look not like yourself?”

  “What do you mean?” She lifts her hands, glancing down at her body as if to make sure her head is still placed the same perfect place.

  “What do I mean? You look like you’ve just been snorting the flowers, not researching them. Is the research causing you to lose sleep?”

  Aisha sighs, blinking, her face falling to a relaxed state. “No, it’s not that.”

  “You are still researching, yes?” My eye nearly twitches with annoyance as she slowly rotates her gaze around the room, losing interest in our conversation.

  “Did you know King Iri was called away last night? He left and didn’t return until morning.”

  So, she’s keeping track of my fiancé now? Is that why she looks so distraught? I won't admit it, but I didn’t know that. I happily fell asleep last night like an angel and didn’t pause to think about anyone whatsoever.

  Unwelcome guilt rises inside of me.

  “He is a King. He has many matters to attend to,” I say blandly.

  She cocks her head to the side, finally meeting my gaze. Something wholly deranged sparks behind her eyes. “He is putting his own life in danger. I can’t have that happening.”

  It’s hard to balance in these heels, but it’s harder not to dwell on her manic look and comment. Deciding it’s best to redirect the conversation, I ignore how badly I want to play into her game.

  But I refuse to get secondhand information about Bear.

  “I agree. What can you tell me about that research we talked about?”

  “Oh, yes, that.” She perks up, her blond curls bouncing as she straightens herself. “I’ve got it figured out. I think.”

  “You think or you know?” The weight of the headdress shifts as I point my chin down and steadily stare back at her. The thing threatens to topple off my head.

  Seriously, why would I wear fake fucking water? Why?

  “The concoction is exact but not guaranteed until after it is tested.” She pauses for me to fill in what she hasn’t said. When I don’t, she rolls her eyes. “So . . . how are we going to find someone to test a small dose on?”

  I suppose I hadn’t thought that far in advance. Honestly, I wasn’t totally sure we were going to get this far. All I knew was that she could make a good soothing ointment for burns. How was I to really believe she could cast up a curse for me in her free time?

  There is no way that in any realm of Goddess Nature or Goddess Celeste that I will willingly offer up a citizen. And there aren’t exactly any volunteers at this point . . .

  “You’ll use me.”

  “You?” Aisha cracks a smile before tilting her head back and out right cackling.

  It’s stupid to trust someone who hates me. But it’s worse to sit idly by and wait for this kingdom to die away into nothing more than a few lines in the dusty pages of history books. If it has to be somebody, let it be me.

  “Yes. What do you need to do?”

  “Are you being serious?” Her hands balance over her hips.

  “Would you just curse me already?” I throw my hands up in the air, sending the dangling wires and glittering gems dancing in front of my face.

  “Goddess, you don’t have to twist my arm over it. Just remember you came to me. You wanted this. My hands are practically tied.” She pauses. “I just need you to chew on the petal of the flower you’ve been carrying around. With a small dab of this.” She reveals a small vial of fine red powder. “It’s called crushed crimson. The rare pigment is commonly used for paints and other nonsense but combined with the flower . . .”

  I nod. Seems simple enough.

  “The flower’s in the pocket of my gown.” I stumble forward, feeling like a toddler learning how to walk in these ridiculous shoes. The tight gown, held only by the few strategically placed pins of the seamstress, restricts just how far forward I can step.

  Stupid, ugly, too-tight dress!

  “Could you, just, maybe?” I point pathetically toward the curtain-covered changing room.

  Aisha scoffs but walks forward with ease despite the sleek form of her blush dress. She disappears behind the hanging red curtain then reappears with the withering yellow flower in her palm.

  She shakes a spec of the deep red powder onto the dried petal and offers it to me with a mocking bow. “My princess,” she says with an overly enthusiastic smile.

  Calm down, killer.

  I slide the wrinkling yellow petal across my tongue. It tastes like wet earth and chews similar to a thin piece of leather. Feeling my mouth go dry, I struggle to swallow the pieces but get it down after a moment.

  “In small doses, it shouldn’t be fatal,” Aisha
states.

  Blood drains from my face. My voice pitches an octave as I ask. “Shouldn’t be?”

  “It’s seriously the tiniest dose. Plus, the flower is clearly dying, so I don’t think it will work to its full potential. The worst-case scenario is that you die. But,” she adds, “if it helps, it will be a slow death. And I’ll be working on a cure the entire time. In fact, I’ll start working right now.” Aisha slowly starts backing away toward the door.

  I’m not an idiot. I’ve done my reading, not that I’ll tell her that. This little of a dose is likely to just cause nausea. In larger portions death would be instantaneous. This is just enough to find a cure. That’s what this kingdom really needs.

  And I’m willing to do everything I can to find it for them.

  “I’ll let you know if I happen to drop dead. Keep working. Find a cure,” I say carelessly.

  Aisha darts behind the door, closing it quietly. I turn back to my reflection, wishing I could calm my racing heart. Almost as soon as Aisha leaves, the seamstress simultaneously strolls out of the back.

  “Oh, your friend is gone? Yes?” Absently, she looks through bolts of elaborate red-and-silver fabric lined up along her wall.

  “I wouldn’t call her a friend. But yes, she’s gone.” Growling with effort, I lift the obnoxious headpiece off my scalp and hold it begrudgingly before me.

  She isn’t a friend. She’s just convenient and so vain in the way she wants the king’s attention that I know she’ll put maximum effort into solving this just to get a compliment or two.

  “Let’s get back to fitting.” She scuttles toward me excitedly.

  “No.” I hold out the over-the-top devil’s hat. “Get me out of this.”

  After any talk with Aisha, I wish for a drink. After this particular conversation, including her creepy knowledge of all things Bear and my lingering slow death, I need a drink.

  Clearly displeased, the seamstress carefully maneuvers me out of the gown and allows me the opportunity to dress. Her assistant ties up the corseted back, and I thank them both in parting.

  Evening comes quickly with a dimly-lit setting sun, the hours of my day ticking away with an unwanted speed. Somehow, I haven’t run into Bear. Nor have I heard from him. Was Aisha right? Had he run off all night long and just returned to sleep the day away?

  I didn’t think or even intend to, but the halls lazily shift, and I find myself standing outside Bear’s bedroom door. His guards bow their heads to me in greeting.

  “Is he in there?” I ask, my hand already reaching toward the door to knock.

  “Yes, princess,” the taller guard replies.

  I knock softly, first. No answer. I knock louder. No answer. I shift, glancing at the two finely-dressed men.

  “Are you sure he is in there?”

  Both the guards exchange worried stares, one furrowing his brow in confusion. I extend my arm to knock once more, and the door breezes open. Bear frowns as he sees me.

  Such a warm welcome.

  “Aren’t you supposed to be doing wedding stuff? Shouldn’t you be getting fitted for your dress?” He wipes his hand over his face, clearly trying to remove any signs of sleepiness.

  “I ducked out early.”

  Confusion works over his normally diplomatic features then turns to intrigue as a cheeky grin grows on my face.

  “So . . . can I help you with something?” He leans one forearm against the doorframe over my head, tilting himself and his warm body heat closer to me.

  A furry head pokes through the door next to him, a wet nose prodding my hand. A large white wolf sloppily licks the back of my hand in greeting.

  Jubilee.

  I’ve spotted the pretty pet when she’s coming back from her daily brushing, in passing here and there, but I’ve come to realize that Bear keeps her safely guarded. She’s his pet, but he treats her as so much more.

  He keeps a safe guard of his sweet companion. He really does take care of those he loves.

  “Actually,” I whisper giving the dog a pat on her soft head. “I was wondering if the two of us could sneak down to the wine cellar.”

  His eyebrows bolt up in surprise. “With me or the dog?”

  I bite back my smile. “The dog, of course.” I pause for a moment when he rolls his eyes. “Perhaps both. I guess Jubilee wouldn’t really make for good conversation.”

  “Wise choice.” With a point down to his bare feet, he wiggles his toes as he speaks. “Let me slip into some shoes, and I’ll gladly take you anywhere you want.”

  “Wine. I want to go to the wine.”

  Tentatively, I follow him into his room where he steps into his closet to retrieve a pair of boots. The shoes thud against the old floors as he sets them down. Bear puts on socks, steps into the boots, and begins lacing them.

  “What made you want to drink so badly? Bad fitting?” he asks, looking up from his task.

  “You could say that.”

  Horrific dress. Awful hat. Having to talk to my future husband’s ex. Eating a petal off a flower that will kill me. Waiting for my timely death. There are many reasons to drink here. I could pick any of them.

  He stands up, his shirt clinging to his body in the most delicious way. I don’t bother not to look or to hide the fact that I am looking. Bear doesn’t pretend not to notice either.

  “See something you like?” He winks and my stupid heart drops.

  From a wink!

  Goddess, what is wrong with me.

  “Maybe. We’ll see after a few drinks.” I tilt my head with a look of innocence.

  His tongue slides slowly across his lower lip, and I have to swallow back the thoughts that are slamming through my mind right now.

  This attraction between us is getting harder and harder to deny. Bear is sexy. And I like sex. Simple. It’s math, really. One dark king with the body of a god plus one incredibly pretty, wickedly smart, hardly modest princess has to equal some sort of sex. Right? Right. Of course I’m right.

  “I’ll lead the way.” He nods toward the door. Bear stands up suddenly, towering over me without my ridiculous heels on. Like a tree I’d like to climb. Goddess, just being in his presence is messing with my head. He leans toward a guard, whispering with a grin and a shy glance at me.

  Then he stretches out his hand. It hangs between us for a moment while my brain and my heart argue on whether or not I should accept the offer or put some distance between us before I unravel into a puddle on his bedroom floor.

  I intertwine my fingers with his.

  A wink, Syren! That’s what it takes now? My brain screams. I ignore it.

  Bear gently pulls me along beside him. The guards don’t follow for once. To them, we probably do look like the soon-to-be-married couple sneaking away to get some one-on-one time. If you know what I mean.

  Sex. I mean sex.

  And all of a sudden, I don’t feel quite as brave as I once did. The playful charade we had just minutes before feels like hours ago and with a totally different person. My stomach clenches, a wave of nausea hits me and makes me dizzy. My feet stumble under me, Bear’s grip keeping me upright. He watches me without a word, and I dismiss it with a shake of my head.

  This doesn’t have to be more. I can be attracted to the cursed king and not have sex with him. Anymore. We don’t have to do the math. We can leave it unsolved . . .

  Jubilee happily jogs beside us, her tongue half stuck out of her mouth. We stride over the plush red carpet through new halls I've never seen before and a few I have until we reach a large, arched door. A metal bolt holds the door securely closed.

  “A lock?” I ask.

  “What can I say? I take keeping my alcohol secure seriously.” With a wave of his hand, the lock clicks. Bear pulls it open, revealing a long staircase that descends into black nothingness. One snap of his fingers, and burning torch lights flicker, turning on one-by-one until I can’t see their ending.

  I wonder how many steps it is until we reach the bottom. How far down do you ne
ed to keep your wine? A cold breeze curls out of the door and brushes over me.

  “After you?” I say with a nervous chuckle. Going down into the dark wine cellar alone with the one man who has betrayed me most might not be my best idea.

  Maybe I shouldn't always listen to my heart.

  Twelve

  The Good Stuff

  Syren

  Turns out King Iri has more than just wine in his cellar. I mean, there is wine. Lots of it, but there are also large wooden barrels of whiskey and many more glass bottles of unidentifiable items that he says are imported. Enough alcohol to get me drunk and keep me drunk for years.

  I need that.

  With ease Bear walks backwards, watching me gawk at the large expanse of the brick room. He slows and reaches out, selecting a large bottle full of glorious sloshing red liquid. With little effort, the cork pops loudly, the noise echoing in the wide-open space. The echo continues on, moments longer than I expect it to.

  “So, what will it be?” He offers me the open bottle. “Try this. If you don’t like it, there are many more to choose from.”

  Slightly chilled, the bottle feels like a mistake and a golden opportunity inside my grasp. I pause, letting my thoughts churn back and forth between the good and the bad outcomes of this situation. The numbers don’t really skew in my favor.

  I shoot Bear my most daring grin then lift the bottle to my lips. The liquid is cold going down, but it spreads warmth through my limbs in seconds. It’s an odd flavor. Dry and tart but not so much so that it isn’t drinkable. Do I really like it? No. Am I going to drink it? Yes. Yes, I fucking am.

  Crinkling my nose, I look at the wine, examining it for any labels or written dates, not sure if it’s perhaps expired.

  Does wine go bad? I think we’ve got a bad batch here.

  “You don’t like it. Come, let’s find—”

  His hand clasps over mine, but I lift the bottle back to my lips, taking gulp after gulp. Just get it into my system. I just want to relax for one night before I get back at my mission. Back to the research and back to trying to be what this kingdom needs.