33. Fen
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
FEN
The messenger imp arrived an hour later, and I knew before it materialized that my mother was about to rip off my head.
Let her try. I welcomed the challenge.
The tiny creature soared through the air, their translucent wings beating too swiftly to track, holding a scroll marked with the royal seal that meant I was about to be chastised for destroying everything my mother had built me to be.
I didn’t take it right away. My hand hovered in the space between me and this creature sent to deliver judgment. Taking it meant opening it, and opening it meant confronting what my taste of freedom had cost me.
The imp’s face remained blank. They flapped their wings faster and waited.
I plucked the scroll from their grasp, and the imp flew across the cavern.
The paper felt too heavy. Quality stock, sealed with wax that bore the royal seal. It screamed formality, which meant this wasn’t a mother writing a sweet letter to her son. This was the queen addressing a problem.
My gut clenched as I broke the seal and unfurled the scroll.
The message opened with a standard formal address: To Crown Prince Fenian Balmaris Lancifer. Not “my son” or even “Fenian.” The title made it clear what type of conversation we were having.
Your presence is requested. There are matters of state that require immediate attention, as well as explanations regarding your conduct during today’s proceedings.
Did she expect me to leave the Scorching to attend her?
The council has noted your departure from established protocol. Lord Holmen in particular has expressed concerns about your ability to rule.
Hardly surprising. After all, her younger sister had three sons—his sons—all of whom would make exceptional heirs. They did as they were told and never asked questions.
When you return, your household will be reviewed.
She’d dismissed Meckard. Who next? My old nanny who still resided within the castle? I should’ve insisted she take the estate I tried to gift her, and if I made it through this, I’d make sure she did. If she’d agreed, she’d be living there peacefully now, beyond my mother’s grasp.
The healers will also examine your dragon. If he’s found unfit, he will be retired, and you will be bonded with a new mount.
Fucking no. She wasn’t touching Aristus.
I’m appointing Lady Severine as co-leader of your team.
Ah. Elevating the woman she was demanding I’d marry? My mother could set her at the head of this team, but I still would not say yes.
The signature at the bottom read simply: Queen Valindra.
Not “Mother.” Not even “V.”
I stared at the letter until the words blurred. My chest felt scooped out, hollow in a way that made breathing a challenge.
Heat gathered in my palm, flying up to the tip of my index finger, creating a blue flame. I held it to the paper’s edges and let it consume the formal language and royal expectations in seconds. Ash drifted down to the black sand.
My small act of defiance felt huge.
Aristus rumbled, approval bleeding through the bond. And underneath it, I felt something that wasn’t quite anger but close. The feeling I got when I looked at the pressure points worn into his scales and realized what I’d done to him.
He was glad I’d burned it, but he hadn’t forgiven me yet.
Across the camp, Terrant watched the ashes fall. I held his gaze until the last of her words stopped glowing.
Let the morning report be thorough.
Eradin no longer rested. She stood inside the commons area, maybe thirty feet away. Far enough for discretion. Close enough that she’d seen everything.
She’d watched me burn a letter.
She held my gaze long enough that my pulse jumped, and every careful defense I’d spent the day constructing threatened to crack open again.
Then she strode over to stand in front of me, her gaze traveling from the ashes to my face.
“It was from your mother, wasn’t it?” she asked softly.
“Yes.”
“She’s angry.”
“That’s an understatement.”
She laid her hand on my arm. “I’m sorry.”
“She’s…threatening everything. My future rule. My team. And Aristus.”
Her grip tightened. “Can she do that?”
“She’s the queen. She can do whatever she wants to anyone, even to me.” And that was the true danger here. I could handle whatever she dealt me, but she wouldn’t come after me.
She’d hurt those I cared for.
Aristus. Eradin.
“You need to stay away from me,” I said, my voice gutted. “It’s not safe to be near me.”
Her chin lifted, and her steely gaze met mine. “What if I want to be near you?”
“You can’t.”
“Who says that? You or your mother?”
I tipped my head back and glared at the top of the cavern.
“Let me know when you decide.” She turned and strode over to Lyndie, who was checking her dragon’s wing. Eradin’s hands moved over the beast’s scales with the same attention she gave Selira.
The ashes remained on the ground in front of me. I dragged my boot through them before grinding them into the sand.
When I’d helped Eradin pack supplies in the kitchen, she hadn’t looked at me like I’d done something generous. She’d seen a part of me I hadn’t realized existed.
I wanted to be that person for her now.
Four servants worked on my tent, spelled poles extending automatically when they touched the ground. Royal blue canvas emblazoned with House Lancifer’s crest. The tent appeared large enough to sleep six and had a space partitioned off for gear storage.
Another servant spread bedding inside.
Two more had lit a cooking fire, and food simmered over the flames.
Eradin, Lyndie, and Reece didn’t have tents or bedding beyond what they’d carried. Servants had tindered fires for us, but they ignored their fellow commons.
The contrast carved a sick feeling into the walls of my belly.
A servant with gray hair directed two younger servants toward a listing tent pole. She stumbled with the weight, and an older man caught the load. He didn’t reprimand her or show impatience. Just competence from doing the same thing ten thousand times while people like me never learned his name.
A dull ache spread under my skin. I’d ordered Aristus through the same motions for the entire time I’d known him. I’d expected the best performance at all times but had never asked if what I demanded hurt.
“Excuse me,” I said as the older man passed.
He came to a stop and peered around. His eyes widened when he realized I was speaking to him.
“What’s your name?” I asked.
His eyes widened even further before he directed his gaze at the ground. “Boren, Your Highness.”
“How long have you worked for House Lancifer?”
“Nineteen years, Sire.”
A long time, and I’d never learned his name.
I kept my voice level. “Eradin, Lyndie, and Reece need bedding. Basic provisions. Everything they might need, actually. Tents. Food. Extra supplies.”
Boren shot a look in their direction, but his expression didn’t change. “Your Highness, the standard protocol is—”
“I’m changing the protocol. Will you arrange that?”
He studied me before nodding, a touch of respect shining in his eyes for the first time. “Yes, Sire. I’ll see to it personally. I assume you mean if they…survive until the next rest period.”
“Tonight.”
He blinked. “Very well. Right away.” He bowed and left.
My team—my co-team, that is—ate at a table someone had assembled. They sat in actual chairs, savoring roasted meat seasoned with spices. Vegetables drizzled in butter. Bread still warm from whatever magical heating process kept it ready for consumption.
Eradin was tearing at dried meat with her teeth.
My tent flaps gaped open behind me, revealing luxuries I hadn’t earned. I couldn’t make myself go inside. How could I rest in comfort while she had to sleep on sand?
A servant approached with a plate, holding it out. “Your meal, Your Highness.”
“Leave it,” I said.
The servant set the plate on a low table nearby and retreated.
Eradin walked over to Selira, and the creature draped her wing over Eradin, forming a wall between her and the rest of the world. A necklace had slid out from beneath her tunic. It caught the light, silver-purple that matched the dragon’s scales.
Aristus shifted on his haunches, his attention following mine. Through our new connection, I felt his awareness spike.
Wonder rippled through our bond.
Aristus had never seen a dragon move like Selira did, fluid instead of controlled obedience. He’d never known it was possible. The longing that followed wasn’t just curiosity but also grief for something he’d never had.
Fabric whispered behind me. Vella. I’d heard her approach and chosen not to acknowledge it.
She didn’t argue this time. She stood at my shoulder and followed my gaze across the dark grass to the commons fire, to the bedrolls I’d ordered delivered, and processed it the way her father had taught her.
“I hope it’s worth it,” she said. “Whatever you think you’re finding.”
She left without waiting for a response, and that unsettled me more than shouting would have.
Vella only stopped negotiating when she’d started reporting.
Across the camp, Boren still hadn’t started toward the commons section, though I’d said tonight. This wasn’t defiance but sequence. He’d deliver my order the moment he finished sending an imp about it.
Which meant my mother would soon know about that as well. Good. Let her read it twice.
Eventually, I made myself enter the tent and after closing the flaps, I washed in the basin a servant had provided. Hot water. No bathing in the river for me.
I laid on my bed, staring at the canvas ceiling.
As was the norm lately, sleep wouldn’t come.
I gave up after an hour of lying on bedding too soft, under blankets too warm, listening to sounds I’d trained myself to filter out but couldn’t anymore. After dressing in clean leathers, I stepped outside.
Faelights bobbed overhead in slow spirals, their captive sprites glowing, and I watched them drift, searching for answers they couldn’t provide.