How to Marry a Winged King

The House of Bloodthorn

LORD BLOODTHORN HAD decreed long ago that he would not stand for my ghastly human presence at mealtimes, so I didn’t find out about the invitation until mid-morning.

My oldest stepsister, Acantha, waved it like a flag as I came into the parlour after breakfast. She and my other stepsister, Rose, were clustered together on the sofa next to my stepmother.

All three of them were vibrating with excitement.

I took the invitation from Acantha. It was dripping glamour, with moving illustrations of birds swooping in curlicues around the royal seal. A low, deep-struck gong sounded when I rubbed my thumb across it. Extravagant, even for fae.

Acantha watched me with high-strung anticipation.

I kept my expression as bland as possible, as if we received invitations with this degree of pomp and ceremony every day. Sometimes one has to needle one’s sisters for no other reason than because.

“Pretty,” I said nonchalantly, handing the invitation back to her.

“Don’t you know what this means? The king is finally choosing a bride!

” Acantha said, impatient with my ignorance.

“He’s been putting it off for years, playing the houses against each other, but his time’s run out.

He must choose a bride from amongst the twelve houses by the final night of this ball, or he loses the throne.

And he is going to choose me.” Acantha wrapped a lock of dark hair about her finger, as if she were contemplating how she might do the same to the king.

“What if he wants a meek, self-effacing sort of bride?” I couldn’t help teasing through my surprise. The king marrying? Acantha marrying? A competitive marrying royalty game?

Acantha batted her eyelashes. “Then I will feign meekness for three nights, and he’ll be in for a lovely surprise after we exchange vows.”

“I’m sure he will.”

Acantha grinned and extended her claws. The gold of them caught the morning light, forming brief, bright flames at each of her fingertips.

“Acantha!” Lady Bloodthorn reprimanded.

Acantha’s claws were the only thing about her that betrayed she wasn’t pure sidhe, and her mother was always after her to keep them hidden. It seemed both sad and foolish to me, since Lady Bloodthorn’s own mixed blood was clear enough in her daintily hooved feet and curling ram’s horns.

Acantha rolled her eyes but dutifully retracted her claws.

Rose laughed. “You can have your crown, Acantha, only please say you’ll give me the run of the Golden Hall’s libraries when you are queen. They have one of the finest collections in all Faerie.”

“I still expect you to make an effort for your house,” Lady Bloodthorn told her youngest.

I looked down at the invitation again and couldn’t stop myself. “So, when do we go to this ball?”

The expected awkward silence fell, with a hint of reproach that I had insisted on creating it. Neither of my stepsisters looked at me.

“I’m afraid you won’t be able to come. Humans are forbidden to enter the Golden Hall,” Lady Bloodthorn said eventually.

She even managed to sound apologetic. “You’re not upset, are you, dear?

You understand how these things are.” She gave me a hopeful smile.

Was I only imagining the hint of guilt in her eyes?

I smiled weakly back. “It’s fine. I’m not upset.” One upside to being human is the ability to outright lie. Fae have to get creative with truths.

Rose piped up. “Actually, there have been humans at the Golden Hall before, or at least once before. A human princess visited King Tāwhiri’s grandfather.”

“Royalty may be granted any number of exceptions.” The cold voice of Lord Bloodthorn from the doorway froze us all.

As usual, he looked past rather than at me, eyes glittering with malice.

“And our Cinder-girl is no princess. If she proves an obstacle to this family forming royal connections yet again …” The threat hung unspoken, but no less sinister for it.

“The king won’t even know she exists,” Acantha promised, stepping forward.

Hurt flashed through me, though I knew she was only trying to help.

Lord Bloodthorn narrowed his eyes, but at least he looked at Acantha directly.

He never did with me, the daughter he’d been swindled into adopting.

Acantha met his gaze without flinching, shoulders high and defiant.

With her claws sheathed, she was every inch a pure-blooded sidhe, tall and aristocratic with pointed ears, waves of ink-dark hair, and gold-brown skin, a warmer version of Lord Bloodthorn’s own perfect crystalline beauty.

“See that the king is pleased with you,” he said eventually.

Acantha gave a tight nod, like a general preparing for battle.

Lord Bloodthorn’s gaze fell on Rose, who flinched. “Don’t embarrass your sister. Make sure she covers her horns.” This last was directed to his wife, who touched her own horns nervously and nodded.

Lord Bloodthorn turned to leave, and I let out a silent breath of relief. Too soon, it turned out, for he took a parting shot, lips curling.

“Even if you weren’t a worthless baseborn, you could not go, Cinders. The dancing will likely go past dawn.”