Touch (Touched by the Fae 3)

My stomach curls in on itself as I fight the urge to throw up.

He… he did it. I’ve always known that there was no way in hell I could’ve ever actually killed Melisandre, but he did it as easily as breathing.

Oberon shrugs, lowering the point of his sword back to the tile. “I was wrong.”

No one says a damn word as he wipes his hands on his white pants before stepping over Melisandre’s remains, purposely striding toward the throne. With the attention of the entire court on him, he eases himself onto the seat.

His hands grip the throne’s arms.

His green eyes gleam.

Nine drops to a knee. It’s gotta hurt like hell, considering his injury is still bleeding freely, but he does it anyway. Following his lead, I hurriedly get to the floor.

“Long reign Oberon,” he calls out, “the one and only Summer King.”

As the echoes from the court surrounding us fill the throne room, I close my eyes. Mostly because I really don’t want to see Melisandre, but also because I can’t believe it.

It’s over.

Done.

Finally.

18

Did I think that everything was over just because Oberon showed up out of nowhere and killed Melisandre for me?

Yeah. Super wrong on that one.

I wait for Nine to do something. Say something. He’s the Dark Fae. He’s the one who is familiar with Faerie and its ways. So long as he stays on the ground, head bowed, I’m going to do the same.

Even if my neck starts to ache after a minute or two.

From beneath the fringe of hair falling into my face, I sneak a peek at the room around me. Every single person in the Court has followed Nine’s lead, genuflecting in front of the king who, I notice, is absolutely glowing.

It’s not just the clothes. The homeless man I knew is absolutely gone. Oberon has shaken off the last of his earthly glamour, a subtle golden aura surrounding him as he casts an appraising gaze over the assembled fae.

His voice booms, echoing through the quiet. “Rise.”

I scramble to my feet, moving before I give my body the command to go. I’m not the only one, either. There’s something in his tone, something none of us can ignore. It’s power and it’s awe and it’s a hint of a threat all wrapped in one. It’s like he’s saying, the king is back, get used to it.

Holy crap. I’m so glad he’s on my side.

With Oberon still sitting on his throne, hands curved around the edge of the throne’s arms, his immaculate boots pressed hard to the tile floor, he calls out a name.

“Helix.”

One of the guards moves forward. I realize with a start that it’s the Light Fae that led the cadre of soldiers who brought me back to Faerie.

He doesn’t look surprised that he’s being summoned by the newly returned king. In fact, that unamused, almost constipated expression is missing as he bows his head. “Welcome back, your highness.”

“It’s been too long. Tell me,” Oberon says, almost conversationally, “are you still loyal to the Court or just the crown?”

His meaning couldn’t be any clearer. The former queen still has the crystalline crown nestled securely on top of her detached head.

I try not to peek back over there again.

Too late.