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Chapter Forty-Three

Lonan

As we sat at the royal banquet table—which was small, just the four of us—I stared in mild horror at the sheer amount Gillie was drinking. Surely he shouldn’t have been able to talk coherently anymore, let alone stand. But he seemed perfectly fine, although he kept getting handsy with Nua under the table.

Ash had allowed himself one tankard of ale before switching to water, and I hadn’t touched any alcohol at all. I tried not to show how tense I was, sitting here surrounded by seelie. I’d grown comfortable in the palace, but we were literally surrounded by every seelie fae in the land. And I stood out like a beacon, with my black hair and pale skin and unseelie-style armour.

The unease lessened as Ash reached over to rest a hand on my thigh as he talked to Nua. It was his branch hand, and I could feel the long, spindly fingers absentmindedly tracing the join of my own branch leg beneath the leather. I covered his hand with mine and leaned back in my chair, trying not to look too obvious as I carefully watched any Folk who got too close to us while I sipped my water.

Ash was still talking to Nua while Gillie stood beside the table, deep in conversation with the palace’s head gardener. I didn’t mind being left alone for a minute, because it meant I could watch the Folk.

Most seemed a little awed by Ash, and terrified of me. Few were brave enough to shoot us looks of disdain or disgust when they saw me watching, and I made sure to stare those ones down until they cringed and looked away. Overall, though, the seelie Folk seemed happy with their new king, and relieved the Brid was gone. Relieved there would be no more pointless slaughtering on days of celebration.

Before the dinner, a group of Folk had put on an elaborate dance and performance for their new king. I’d had to pinch Ash’s thigh under the table because I could feel his shoulders shaking as he tried to hold back his laughter.

Then Fioda, the ancient fae of the seelie land, had once again welcomed Ash as their new king before announcing the feast. She was currently sitting at the head of the table nearest to us, feeding her cow Mol vegetables from her plate.

The tables that had been brought out were even longer than those the unseelie used, and there were dozens of them. They were piled high with food, and separate booths had been set up with multiple drums of ale stacked, and huge barrels of sparkling wine, both of which were being manned by clurcan fae.

The broon had been more relaxed as they brought out our food. The palace’s head cook, a wizened old broon with a beard that reached the floor, had even stopped beside Ash and quietly told him that they were all too aware of the Brid’s bloodthirsty viciousness. That they understood, and it hadn’t been the first time she’d had staff senselessly killed for no reason.

I could sense how stiff with tension Ash was as he nodded and told the broon he appreciated it, and he would always be sorry. After that, he seemed to relax more. He’d enjoyed his meal, and now he was lounging back in his throne, his crown of oak leaves still nestled in his curls, looking every inch a king.

It made my gut clench with want, made worse when Ash shifted in his seat as he spoke to Nua, and his branch hand slid higher on my thigh. Much higher.

I tensed, trying not to spread my thighs even as the side of his little finger brushed my sac through the leather. My cock twitched with eagerness as my mind automatically drifted back to earlier in the day, before his coronation, when I’d gotten on my knees before him.

It was somewhat surreal to realise I would be going to bed later with the official, crowned Seelie King. His name was in their book, immortalised forever. The Luad.

“You okay?”

I realised I had, in fact, let my thighs spread a little wider as Ash turned to face me with a smile. My brow rose as I pointedly glanced down at his hand, and his smile grew.

“Oh, oops.” His spindly branch fingers squeezed my thigh. “Hope you don’t think I was doing that on purpose?”

My mouth twitched. He couldn’t lie anymore—not that I thought he’d ever lie to me, even if he could—and he was already getting clever with his words. His mother had been the Wielder of Words, after all. Not that I thought Ash would use them the same way she had—as weapons.

He moved his hand lower as he said, “But seriously, are you okay? I know this is strange for you.”

“It is,” I admitted, covering his hand with mine again. “But I’m fine. It’s been a good day.”

“It’s been a weird as fuck day,” Ash muttered, picking up his water and having a sip. “How long do we have to stay here?”

I chuckled. “Why?”

He leaned closer with a wicked grin. “Why do you think? I’ve been running on adrenaline all day. Got a lot of energy to work out.”

My cock lurched, so I sat up straighter as I cleared my throat. “It’s your banquet, Oak King. You can leave whenever you want.”

Ash’s mouth twitched at how husky my voice came out. He leaned over and kissed me, but kept it chaste seeing as we were surrounded by hundreds of Folk.

“Mm. Maybe we can stay for a bit longer,” he said as he pulled back. I narrowed my eyes at him, which made him laugh.

“Jora,” he said as she appeared to refill our glasses. “Come and sit.”

She froze, face going red as her brown eyes darted between me and Ash. “I—Sit?”

Ash laughed. “Yes. Come and sit with us for a while. You’ve been running around all day.”


Tags: Lily Mayne Folk Fantasy