Chapter 2
Gabe
Istood at the top of the cavern, looking down over the Fallen who’d arrived for my coronation, and wondered still if there was any way I could escape my fate.
The lights of the space gave the King’s Cavern a far kinder visage than the rest of the Fallen’s realm. Desert above, and deep dark carved out caves and caverns below. None so stunning as the one that I was to be crowned in.
“You understand, you must choose a side. Your father’s lineage—strength and cruelty. Or your mother’s—cunning and chaos. Of course, we all know that you will choose your father’s, it is what is needed. But you can lean away from the cruelty or into it as you see fit.”
Rufus was currently the speaker for the king—for you, you idiot—and seemed to think he was going to pull strings behind the scenes.
“Hmm.”
That had been my standard answer to everything Rufus had said for the last three days.
Three days and my quiet existence had already imploded.
The rules that Rufus had handed me had been quite the list. Basically, do nothing without his approval first.
Who the fuck did he think he was?
“Here are your clothes for the coronation.” He pointed to a black shirt and pants, tall black boots that would kiss my fucking balls, what looked like a corset in the vague shape of armour, three dangling earrings, and a variety of charms that he was currently having two eunuchs braid into my hair.
“Be sure to not be late when you hear the gong, you are expected on your father’s side of the bridge. You do remember which side that is, don’t you?”
“Hmm.”
I could have removed his head from his shoulders without much effort, but it would not suit what I had planned. Different, I was different from Malach.
Besides, I had a far larger issue than becoming king when I did not want to be—the simple task of helping those I considered to be friends save the world. Both human and Alpha Territories were at risk, and whatever power I had at my fingertips, I needed to leverage.
Rufus adjusted his glasses, straightened his clothes and spun, striding from the room, using his ironwood staff as a walking stick. “Ten minutes.”
No, “Your Majesty”, not even my name.
I huffed a laugh. “Is it just me, or is he quite full of himself?”
The two eunuchs froze. I glanced at the human male on my left. “What is your name?”
“Jeff, Your Majesty.”
“And you?”
“Harald, sir, Your Majesty, sir,” he stuttered worse than Jeff, his face mottling red.
“Well, Jeff and Harald, would one of you mind finding me a pair of scissors?”
Less than five minutes later my long white hair was shorn as short as I could cut it on my own, making sure that neither Harald nor Jeff touched the scissors. I left some of it longer on top, but the rest was as close as I could get to my scalp, as fast as I could.
“Your clothes, Your Majesty?” Jeff pointed at the clothing laid out across the room.
“Those look like shit to me.” I rubbed the back of my head, not sure how I felt about the short hair. A statement, and one of the rules that Rufus had very distinctly laid out. “Throw my hair into the fire, would you, Harald?”
Harald scrambled to obey, nearly falling in his haste. I caught him by the upper arm. “Easy, man. Just breathe, I am not Malach. Burn the hair, make sure it’s swept. I do not want Rufus to get his greasy fingers on any of it.”
“Of course, sire.” Harald was still beet red but stuttering less.
Rufus was a mage, what the humans would call a witch if he were a woman. Leaving any of my hair around was a good way to have a spell woven into me.
Jeff clasped his hands. “Sire, what do you want us to do?”
I turned away from the clothes. I was still in the loose white linen shirt and dark brown leather pants and boots I’d brought with me. Traveling clothes, clothes I could fight in.
“Clean pants, clean boots, similar to these, if we have them.”
Jeff ran to do as I asked, leaving me a few spare moments before I was to walk onto the bridge and claim my lineage.
I snorted and shook my head. What a crock of shit. My mother was neither cunning nor chaos filled. My father was cruel, yes, but not particularly powerful.
The Fallen followed the old patterns still and put the females into a category that was beyond stupid. Of course, it was meant to maintain control over them. Like the werewolves until Diana took over for her father, Lycan, there had never been a queen of the Fallen.
It just wasn’t done.
Not even the bride of the king was considered a true queen. She was a consort—a producer of the next heir, that was all.
I looked out over the cavern, watching the higher-ranking lords slowly arrive.
The last to arrive would be those most powerful and most dangerous to the job I had to do here.
I didn’t much care if I held the throne and, if not for the looming threat to all our worlds, I would cast it aside.
But I needed the power the position provided if we had any hope of locating the key hidden somewhere in this very territory. Maybe even in the castle right now…
“Who is that?” I pointed to a Fallen who pulled a red-headed human into a dance. He looked familiar.
“I believe that is Lord Luc, sire,” Harald said.
I remembered him, but it had been decades…
“Is he a bastard?”
Harald choked on the answer, which Jeff quickly supplied. “If you mean, sire, is he cruel? Not particularly so. The Doves all quite like him, Your Majesty.”
I frowned, wracking my brain for the history I’d avoided for so long. There was a niggling something in the back of my head, but I needed help. “The Doves?”
Harald audibly swallowed, the smell of his fear rising. “The ladies of the night? Like the one on his arm. She’s from the Rose and Lantern, Your Majesty.”
The memories clicked into place. The human women brought here were used as whores, though the Fallen managed to dress it up some.
“Right, of course. Thank you, Harald.”
He fell to the floor at my feet, “You are too kind, Your Majesty.” And then he began to cry.
Fuck, Malach, you left me a goddamn fucking mess.
“Get up, Harald.”
“Yes, yes, of course, sire.” He swiped his arm across his face.
Jeff ran back into the room, a pair of dark blue leathers, knee high boots and a similar dark blue shirt.
“Sire, would this do?” He bowed, offering me the clothes.
“Yes, good job, Jeff. Now both of you stop all the bowing and scraping. In private you can call me Gabe, in public do the usual. But I need something normal here, where there are no eyes to see.”
Both paled, though Harald went more of a shade of green.
“We can’t, sire,” Jeff said. “Rufus would slit our throats.”
At least he’d left off ‘your majesty’ on that last—
“Your Majesty.”
Damn it.
“Don’t be calling him that!”
The old woman’s voice turned me around and I’d never been happier to see the cranky old Oracle in my life.
“Myrr?”
“Well, who the feck did you think it would be? Queen of Sheba? I mean she had a nice rack, but it still wasn’t as good as mine!” She grabbed at her breasts, which were closer to her belt than her shoulders.
Harald passed out, falling backward and only Jeff’s quick reflexes kept his friend from hitting the stone floor.
“Myrr, what are you doing here? I don’t have much time—”
The gong of the ironwood staff lighting up the air cut me off.
“I’ll explain later when we’re alone.” She made a shooing motion with both hands.
“Go get your crooked crown, but…” her eyelids fluttered and she uttered four words…
“beware the false queen.” A blink and she shook her head, closing her milky eye in a scowl.
“What was I saying? Ah, you two boys, find me some food, I’m starving! ”
I didn’t have time to question what she meant by beware the false queen or ask the crazy old Oracle how the hell she’d gotten here without anyone noticing or even announcing her presence.
I stripped off my shirt and grabbed the clean dark blue shirt from Jeff.
It would be enough. Tucking it into the back of my pants, I leapt out of the window.
My wings sprang from where they lay hidden against my back, catching me, and allowing me to hold myself high above the bridge that was supposed to be my hidden throne.
A second gong and I circled, watching from high above. Everyone looked left and right, waiting to see which direction I came from.
Except for one.
A woman in a dark gray dress, her face covered fully except for her lips…she tipped her head up and seemed to look straight at me. As if she’d known I would not choose one or the other but would instead make my way as I saw fit.
It should have bothered me, but instead I found myself curious. How the hell had she…the sound of the ironwood staff faded fully.
I tucked my wings tight to my body and let myself free fall, opening my wings at the last second before I slammed into the ground. The strain rippled through my back and across my shoulders, and a muscle tore across my left side—ribcage for sure, but I didn’t let it show.
My feet touched the center of the bridge and instead of dragging my wings back in, I left them widespread.
I gazed around the room. Everyone averted their gaze…
except that one who’d spotted me from the sky.
Though I could not be sure because of the depth of her hood, I could somehow feel her eyes on me, when no other would dare.
Interesting.
Not a word, not a whisper from the crowd.
I fucking hated this.
I turned my right-hand palm up and made a flicking motion upward.
“Rise. I will not have my subjects on their knees.”
Rufus strode to the center of the bridge and spun to face the assembled crowd. “His Majesty demands you all to stand.”