Soul of Faery (The Barren Kingdom Book 1) by Lesleigh Maeson

Author:Lesleigh Maeson [Maeson, Lesleigh]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2021-10-18T16:00:00+00:00

I awoke to find a man leaning against the far wall watching me. His pale blue eyes stared at me in the darkness like a pair of stars. His white hair flowed down around his face like a wisp of cloud. His beauty stuck me. He was gorgeous when I saw him before, but in the dark, he seemed like a dream.

Something familiar stirred inside of me. I sat up, but he didn’t move.

“I, I’m sorry. I missed dinner,” I said quietly.

“I told the nobles that a barbarian had been dragging you across the land and that you needed to rest. I’m surprised you made it through a bath before passing out,” he said. His voice was low and steady. His lips barely moved as he spoke.

“I almost fell asleep in the bath,” I admitted. He didn’t respond, but his body seemed to tense. Yet, he looked as relaxed as he possibly could be. Something about him watching me sleep triggered a memory in my head.

I turned my gaze from him allowing the memory to breathe. A large fire surrounded by dancing women. I danced with them feeling euphoric. Lively music played. Garlands of flowers covered poles which rose within the crowd of people. Leaning on one of those poles was this man. Tall and sleek in a pale silver suit adorned with glittering stars. His eyes were fixed on me as I danced. His desire flickered like candles as I swayed to the music. I knew he was watching, and I loved it. He didn’t move nor did his gaze falter.

My body leaned forward to take in more of the memory, but I felt my stability wobble. I opened my eyes, realizing that I was falling. Without a sound of movement, Javaid caught me before I ended up face first in the floor.

“What was that?” he asked, searching my eyes for answers. Gone was the chill prince. In his place, I felt the wildly beating heart of man who had panicked. His touch was so cold.

“A memory. A festival and a bonfire,” I responded. He was kneeling on the floor where he’d caught me. His face relaxed and a smile tugged on his lips.

“The fertility festival where you danced for me,” he said. His eyes twinkled with his own version of the memory. “I’m glad you remember that.”

“I wasn’t dancing for you. It was the festival. We were all dancing,” I replied.

“No, my dear princess, you were dancing for me. That night I went to my parents and declared that I wanted you as my wife. My father instructed me on how to approach your parents about it. Your mother insisted that we sit and dine together. She wanted to see how we would interact. The dinner was horrible. You barely looked at me. You only spoke when your mother prompted you. Your father left the table early, but to my surprise, he granted permission for us to draw up a marriage contract, but only if you agreed,” he said.

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