Chapter 23 #2
“I only kept it secret because I knew it would upset you,” I rush to explain. “There are some things you don’t understand, that only fae can explain to other fae.”
“How many times?” he demands, his voice rising.
From the corner of my eye, I see Matron White exchange a look with Kendan that says “so much for wedded bliss” without needing to say anything at all.
“Only twice,” I blurt out, pulling harder at the thread. “He used the fae needle to come to me in the woods after our wedding, and—”
“After our wedding!” Basten throws his hands up, pacing tightly in the small room.
“—and again, to give me this book,” I continue.
“That’s it! We did nothing but discuss how to handle the fae court’s arrival.
Woudix has as many doubts about my father as we do.
He’s invested—if war breaks out, so much death upsets the balance of his realm.
He came to me because he wants peace, too.
That’s why he gave me the book. He risked everything to meet with me secretly. ”
Basten stops short, trying to marshal his feelings.
His chest rises and falls quickly. He closes his eyes, but when he opens them, there’s still the sting of betrayal there.
“I accepted the role of your acolyte. Fully knowing that not a single acolyte has lived longer than a few months. If anyone bore a risk, it was me!”
“This is why I didn’t tell you,” I say, my own voice rising. “You don’t understand! You stand here telling me I have to work with Matron White, yet you hate the fae so much you can’t put it aside to see the benefit of working with them.”
“No—that’s different.” He raises a finger.
“Is it? How? You’re the human king, why am I more interested in protecting your people than you?” I jab my finger into his chest.
Suri makes a small squeak.
Basten falls back as though struck by a battering ram, blinking hard at me. I close my mouth quickly. Did I go too far?
Suri’s gaze is glued to the carpet like a small child whose parents are fighting. Matron White is riveted, her arms folded as she stands by the fire and watches.
I shouldn’t have raised my voice.
Basten and I are king and queen—we should be presenting a united front.
More than that—we should be a team.
The others’ reaction seems to calm Basten’s temper the same way it did mine, and he drops the tense set of his shoulders. He rakes back his hair, taming his unsteady breathing.
I swallow, searching his eyes for a tiny crack, a flicker of softness I can cling to and find my way back to him.
“Regardless of how the book was acquired,” Kendan cuts in, his official tone smoothing over the last of my prickly edges. “The Fae Games are a strong idea.”
I keep my eyes low, focused on the book, trying not to show how my hands are shaking—though I can’t hide anything from Basten.
“I haven’t said the best part yet. At the end of the Fae Games, bring them out to the gallows. Only, instead of hanging, my father will pardon them. The ultimate show of peace. That the humans of this city can trust the fae.”
I look eagerly between their faces, feeling slightly less confident than before.
That’s an awful idea, Rian said when I proposed the pardon. You want the public to embrace the fae? They want to see them burn, not pardon. Give the people what they want.
The whole point, I tried to explain, is to show the fae are peaceful.
Is peace why the public adore fae tales?
Do the Dramatics in pubs showcase their benevolence?
Look—I know how the public thinks. I was raised in a family that catered to their base impulses.
We made a fortune off gambling, whoring, fights for coin.
No one worships a damn pacifist. You want people to love the fae?
The Cold Coins terrorized the city—give them bloody, raw vengeance as only the fae can do.
The memory of Rian’s words see-saw through me, make my nerves jangle. Yes, Rian does understand how the public thinks, what drives them to spend their few precious coins.
But we aren’t appealing to people’s base instincts. We’re appealing to their highest ones. To the fae’s, too. Trying to create a better world.
Lord Kendan nods slowly, his eyes growing more excited.
“The new reign will be marked by peace, not vengeance. We won’t set the prisoners free, of course, but life in the dungeon should both demonstrate mercy and appease the public’s desire for justice.
” He starts rolling up the map. “If we are all in agreement, I’ll have my staff begin preparations for the Fae Games, starting on the Blood Moon. ”
Basten nods a dismissal.
Matron White touches the key emblem on her robe—the gesture of homage to Immortal Iyre, which feels like a slap in my face—and primly strides from the room. Kendan finishes rolling the maps and leaves.
Then, it’s Basten and me. And about six feet of air between us that crackles like heat lightning, charged with everything we’ve said and haven’t said.
This tension can’t possibly hang over us forever. At some point, it’s going to have to break.
I glance his way and murmur, “You don’t think it’s a good idea, do you? You don’t trust me.”
He sighs, his voice softening. “I don’t trust the fae.”
I close my eyes, take a deep breath, and head for the door. Before leaving, I look back. “Exactly.”