The Fairy King and his Cursed Queen ✔

6 | TIME IMMEMORIAL

She stood staring at me, mouth agape, so I repeated myself. "No."

"Yes," she bit out, "you've said that."

This was the strangest conversation to hold with someone. Something in the way she stood with her arms across her chest made me want to reassure her.

"It is not that I don't find you beautiful—" I stopped myself short, outraged by the absurdity of it all. "Wait, I need not explain myself. The answer is no so cease to stare at me like that."

Each breath she dragged in had one unfortunate consequence—the wings dulled. They were barely moving by the time she marched past me and approached her clothes. This human instinct to seek out covering for warmth was merely a habit. It was not useful, and it certainly yielded no comfort beyond that of the mind.

Till now, I'd assumed that only the coat remained of her clothes. That was untrue, inside it, there was a thin layer woven in that she dragged out now.

A rip sounded through the night shortly after. Then another. She resembled an animal as she tore the carcass of that fur coat asunder, gutting it a second time.

Perhaps it was something I'd said. But I hadn't known how to react. As she worked, the speed of her wings waning, anger wafting off her, I tried to make sense of what was happening—more specifically—my response to her offer to start this incantation off on a gentler foot.

To put it mildly.

Nothing about her said she was one to give her affection away lightly, and yet, the subtle hint hadn't been my imagination. It certainly explained why she all but trembled as she tore the fabric apart.

I'd insulted her. She offered me her body and I'd said no. At face value, I could not trust in her words. Was this truly a new fairy queen who sought to make peace with me? To give herself over to me with no pretense or conditions? Why, when this had never happened before?

As she sat, a glow in her hand brought my attention to her. She was no proper fairy in skills and yet, she summoned light to mend her fabric. And so fine-tuned. This shocked and reminded me that this was a fairy queen, no simpleton.

The idea that she could summon a needle from her power but not warmth made me want to kick myself. She was playing a game. A stolen princess returned unharmed meant her husband would have to negotiate. One returned ravished did not.

And I'd almost fallen for it.

She stood, the dull light of the glow stone at her back, and brought a long strip of the fabric around her neck, both ends down past her chest, like a scarf. Unlike a scarf, however, she took yet another strip and secured it at the waist. After that, it was a matter of careful tugs that completed her efforts.

Now, her breasts were covered, accentuated by the fact that the fabric passed them over and frayed at the waist. A few more adjustments afforded by the needle had the ends of the scarf pulled out at the front, secured to the belt, to make a small skirts of sorts.

The function was purely aesthetics because the next shiver running through her was from the cold. Her bigger concern should have been less about her appearance and more so about the fact that her wings weren't working as I'd expected.

I opened my mouth to convey as much but she held something out to me.

"And this is yours," she said, shoving it against my stomach. As I caught hold and held it up, she continued, "I am a princess. You may be fairy king, but since I am technically the fairy queen, I am your equal. I do not think it polite to have to parade around one another naked."

Still looking down at what she'd made me, I kept my head still but slid my gaze up to meet eyes with her, certain my contempt rang through.

"I am a fairy."