A Veil of Blood and Bravery

26. Delphine

The human courtfell into place with relative ease. News of my power spread quickly, even amongst those who hadn’t been present to witness it. There was no great love for the old king, and though there was a great deal of hate for the fae, the fear I’d instilled in my new court was enough to overrule that to the point of reverence, instead.

Where once I’d been treated as a pariah and an outcast, I was now treated like one of the gods that had paved my path to this very throne. Gods that I knew nothing about except that they wanted me here, and they wanted something more from me.

I had no desire to rule over the human realm with fear, but until the hate of the fae had dwindled, their fear of me was all I had—and it was more than enough. I began by stripping Lord Gayge of his title and lands, of his power, of everything but his life. I did all but banish him, choosing instead to keep him close, lest he use his influence over the truth-bringers spread out across the kingdom to take hold again. I was determined not to shed a single drop of human blood under my reign.

However short that reign may be.

Because the god’s words still echoed in my ears, over and over they ran, a constant reminder that my victory was to be short-lived.

While Seren searched the archives that had not been burned like the library of deals, Armene stayed by my side to show me what it was to run a court. It was not all hearings, all meetings, all proclamation giving and regulation signing.

Seren’s powers began to grow again, and he began trying to scry through devices other than the crystal, only to be met time and time again with the same barrier I had. It didn’t just block us out, it deflected us, did everything it could to make sure we wouldn’t try again. Crystals broke, mirrors cracked, pools dried up.

Seren managed to create portals and open pools again, but each time when he sent messengers through to the other side, creatures and notes, anything that he could to try and get the attention of another fae from our shared court on the other side, he was met with nothing. After my mention of The Endless, he hesitated to step through the portal on his own, and I didn’t blame him. I’d yet to share what I’d met there, who I’d met there, and what they’d said to me, but Seren seemed to have some kind of understanding of his own—if not of the weight I felt now bearing down on me more and more with each passing day, at least how close we’d all come to the truest, emptiest kind of death that could threaten any one of us.

I was afraid of death now, afraid of the words that had been spoken over me about prices that had to be paid, but I wasn’t nearly as afraid of that as I had been The Endless. Seren knew it better than any, how easy it was to get lost in that place between them.

I, meanwhile, was lost in the realm I currently occupied.

It was more than strange being back in the human realm. I’d spent a little time in the land of Luxia, a place I’d now sent more than a dozen letters to, trying to gain word of my brother. There were rumors stirring of an insurrection there, not by the fae though, by the humans who they ruled over. I’d never heard of this other kingdom where fae still walked the land, let alone one where they ruled over the humans there, but I’d also never heard that the king had a fae advisor.

Word spread slow to the outer reaches of Alderia, and by the time it reached the smaller villages like mine, it was so twisted there was little truth left of it. I doubted, even, that by the time my old village heard of the new king on the throne, they’d know it was female, fae, or let alone one that was born a human here, in their own realm. Such was the way of such slowly spreading word.

Armene was trying to get answers for us from Avarath by way of his whispers. He and Seren’s powers had begun returning to them over the last days, but there was some kind of blockage in the way, something stretching between us and Avarath. Seren and Armene grew increasingly frustrated by it by the hour, but I couldn’t even find it in myself to be surprised. With every hour that Armene tried to whisper to his sand, to scatter it back to the realms in hope a whisper would return, and with every pool and portal Seren tried to open, I only grew surer of one thing.

I knew what was keeping us hostage.

Fate.

We were getting too close to something it didn’t want us to achieve.

It may have something to do with the gods, with their will against fate, that they were funneling me in one direction, but where was that?

I’d thought increasingly on what the god had spoken to me in The Endless. She’d hinted that I was on the right path, but what path was that? I assumed she meant for me to take the human throne, but what next? Was I supposed to defend it from Mordrigal when he came, or was I to hunt down the other high kings while their powers were diminished, before they had the chance to regather and regain their strength?

All this time, I’d thought I was acting in the interests of fate, working with that guiding force. I’d trusted my instincts because of that, but now, so unsure, my instincts became muddled. I found myself unsure of the path ahead for the first time.

At least Seren had been right about one thing, there was little else to do while I waited for news of my brother. While we tried to get in touch with the fae of Avarath, we needed to secure things here.

And that started with the lords.

Alderia had never been a particularly powerful country. From what I understood, that was why the old king was so eager to make a deal with the fae. A thousand years of protection in exchange for his kingdom. He’d be long gone by then, his people would be long gone by then, so many generations would have passed that he could, without too much guilt, promise the lives of those who came after.

After all, we were never warriors. The chances of us surviving a thousand years without conquer, by fae or human, was unlikely on its own. In the end, we’d gotten far more than a thousand years. In the end, we’d squandered that time.

For thousands of years, Alderia was protected from outside forces. Sure, the occasional fae broke through our borders and wreaked havoc, but nothing like the fae that fell upon Luxia. In one day, they stepped into those lands and claimed them. For hundreds of years now, they’d ruled them without question. Mordrigal had protected Alderia, in a way.

Now it was my turn to protect it from him.

It would have been simpler if Alderia had used the time to build an army, to become formidable in the years of peace that were allotted to them. Instead, however, they’d grown soft.

Too soft.

The lords that gathered before me in the dining hall were the perfect example of this softness. They weren’t soft because of luxury, they weren’t soft because of cruelty to their people, for overtaxing, abusing, and using those under their care. They were soft because they’d simply met no true hardship. I knew it as I looked over them, one by one, the finest of their clothes so shabby now in perspective to even the garments Nyx made from leaves in his own court. It was unfair to compare anything human-made to the handiwork of the fae, of the glamour, but even by human standards, the lords before me looked more like caricatures than the real thing.

Their voices, already whispering in hushed tones, died the moment I appeared at the end of the hall. I needed no introduction, no herald, no trumpets or announcing. Still, something sparked in me when the herald did announce me by my chosen title

“All rise for high king Delphine, Supreme Ruler of the Elysian Realm, Head of the Starlight Fae, Holy Judge of Faerie, and Lord and Master of Alderia and all the humans within it.”

I’d considered being called Lady and Master, but Lord and Master had a different ring to it when you’re already high king.

Compared to my other titles, being king of Alderia sort of fell a little short.

But to the lords gathered, their pasty faces beaded with sweat as they looked up at me, their own titles held the same weight as every one of mine. I felt the fear, the uncertainty, the anxiety radiating off of them like a sour scent. I assumed this was because of the news of Lord Gayge’s title stripping. He might still have his head, unlike the king, but that didn’t mean much.

Not when there was, at long last, not one but three fae standing before them—that ancient fear relegated to wives’ tales and storybooks now very, very real.

And very, very powerful.

I knew they held no love for me, so since all I had to rule over them was fear, I gave them even more reason to fear me.

The glamour licked at my insides like a blaze that refused to be extinguished. I let it out, just a little, letting the sparkling shadows that I’d grown so accustomed to swirl up my forearms as I strode forward to stand at the head of the table. A throne awaited me there, too, but I waited to sit in it. I looked down the length of the table, recognizing some faces from my first time at this court, others from my reappearance, but only one face from my past.

Lord Otto sat at the very far end, his body leaning almost comically so far back that he was barely visible behind the lord seated beside him. He looked worse than all the rest, so pale it was a wonder he hadn’t passed out already. His clothes, shabbier than I ever remembered them, were drenched in sweat, and though he had no blood in his face to show the flush that should have been there, the sluggishness of his movement and the way he swayed on his feet told me he’d downed even more wine before coming here tonight than he was accustomed to.

From my time spent in his service, that was saying a lot. I doubted it would be long before he lost consciousness, if it weren’t for the fear keeping him all too awake.

A large guard, wearing—at my command—their truth-bringer’s armor, stood at my back. They were not for my benefit. They were a part of the show. I felt their presence at all times, the glamour in me itching to send someone, anyone, to the Afterworld or beyond after my latest explosion of power in the Sand Court. The power within me was unable to be satisfied. It was as if the more I used, and the more I used it, the more it wanted to be used. The more it desired to do more than just wrap around my fingers and dance around the outer corners of the room, darkening every place that I watched over. It had a will of its own it was itching to perform, a deadly game it begged me to play.

I let those shadows grow now as I spoke, their tendrils pooling in corners, sneaking under the table, even creeping up the legs of lords whose faces paled even more as they felt the spark of their touch.

“I’ve not gathered you here today for slaughter. I have neither the time, nor the desire, to break apart Alderia, to make it in the image of the fae. I was human once too. I’m not here to say there’s no reason to fear the fae. Far from it. You have every reason to fear the fae. Everything you’ve ever heard about the fae is true, about their viciousness, their thirst for power, their trickery—and more.”

I let my power grow for a moment, let the shadows creep further up my arms, let them wrap around the legs of the gathered lords.

“I’m not here to plunge this kingdom into a war that is not its to fight. I am simply here to honor a deal made by your king. And I am here, again, as your king to offer you the same thing again. Protection. From the fae. From the other human kingdoms.”

I drew back my power then, just a bit, just so it no longer touched their skin. I saw the way they relaxed, saw the effect on their faces, saw for just a second a spark of hope in some of their eyes.

“But in order to do that, I am going to need utter loyalty,” I said. “There is no room here for mistakes. No room here for you to falter. I’ll not have this kingdom thrown into ruin. I am king, now. If any of you have a problem with that, you may leave now. You will be stripped of your titles and banished, but you will be allowed to leave. I am not here to hold anyone hostage.”

Some of the lords glanced at each other, some of them even started to look as if they were reaching for their coats, their chairs, ready to leave at the offer.

“However,” I continued. “I should warn you; you will not escape the fae. Not here, not in the other human realms. Perhaps you’ve heard rumors that the neighboring kingdom is ruled by the fae? Luxia?”

The small flutter of movement in the dining hall ceased.

“Those are more than rumors. That is the truth. The fae are here, in the human realm, and they’re here to stay. We are more powerful than you. We are more ruthless than you. And most of us…”

I glanced back at Seren and Armene.

“Most of the fae do not view you as equals. They view you as little more than chattel. I, however, do not.”

I turned back to them and fixed them with a glare. “Do not mistake me, you are not a fae’s equal in power. But we are more alike than we are different. I know better than most. Do not mistake my kindness for weakness. I do not offer you the chance to leave out of kindness, I offer it only because I am not here to make you my slaves. Leave now, or stand by me. I will not offer you this again. If you choose to defy me in the future, know this…”

I drew on my shadows full power then; I wrapped each and every one of them in it until they felt the squeeze of it the same way I did to the soldiers the day I arrived and took this court.

“My power exists to end you, and I am not afraid to. You stand against me, you threaten me, then let me show you what I will do.”

I did not wish to enter my reign with bloodshed, but I needed them to fear me more than they already did. I needed to demonstrate the true nature of my power, not just make a show of it.

At my signal, two of the truth-bringers dragged forth their old captain.

The former Lord Gayge cowered before me on the floor. Stripped of his armor, of his haughty look, he was less than pathetic. He shook on the ground, head pressed into the stone floor as his lips moved in a silent prayer, half-begging, half-sobbing as I stood above him.

“A new age is upon Alderia. No more will this land spread lies about the fae. I will let no man pander to your own misconceptions, no man lead you astray into thinking we can be beaten. You are human. You are nothing. You exist only because I will it, you are safe only because I protect you. You will understand that. If not now, then soon.”

Perhaps not too soon.

I could only hope.

I held out my hand and wrapped my shadows around Gayge. I let them snake up out of the ground, let them slide like dark snakes across the floor, wrapping him further and further until his entire body was nothing but a mass of writhing, sobbing shadow. I made sure to let it linger, let it terrify him until the point of screaming before I pulled him down.

I sent him to the Afterworld. A small gift for Deimos.

A reminder of who I was, that I was still very much alive, and that while he was devoid of power—I was not.

It was the one gift I could give him without him getting anything in return.

I’d not exactly shed his blood myself, but I’d as good as killed him. I expected to feel some remorse, but for once, I felt nothing.

Perhaps it meant I was growing numb to my power, or perhaps it was just the final end to something that had been tormenting me cruelly for too long.

A still silence hung over the room as the moments stretched on after Gayge’s departure. I let the shadows slink back, but I let them linger, too. I felt the lords’ fear rage ever higher, felt it penetrate the core of them as they saw it for themselves, saw their own fearless leader, the man that had taught them they had the ability to stand up to the fae, disappear in agony, in an instant.

Out of the fifteen lords present, not one chose to leave after that.

I bid them all to sit, and with Seren on one of my sides, and Armene on the other, I joined them at the head of the table for our first meal as a royal council—with me as their king.

Servants filled the hall as a grand feast was served. They moved as if it was the first meal they’d ever served, their hands and feet clumsy as they dished out the finest foods this kingdom had to offer—food that smelled like ash to me now that I’d eaten the food of the fae. As clumsy and flighty as they were, however, the lords remained twice as stiff. No one spoke, no one dared so much as look at one another, let alone at me.

I, in turn, watched them more closely than ever. I memorized their faces, watched for the slightest tick of movement that told me they thought I was anything less than what I’d shown them.

The only one moving amongst them was Lord Otto, and only because he was once again reaching for the cup of wine that had just been refilled before him. His eyes barely seemed able to focus on it, his full attention—body and mind—concentrating on reaching for the glass that he surely hoped would finally take him to his own oblivion before I did.

I had every reason to hate Lord Otto. He had been my once companion, but he had given me up to the fae willingly. He’d bargained with me, after all our years together, just to get a little more coin to keep his drinking habit afloat.

And yet, it was with nothing but pity that I looked at him now, at how his hand shook as he raised the glass to his lips, more red wine spilling as much over his chin and vest than actually made it into his mouth. I knew, in my heart, that he hadn’t betrayed me out of hatred like the others hated me. Lord Otto had loved me in his own complicated way, and I’d loved him, too.

I knew if Caldamir was here, he’d hate what I was about to do. I’d never seen what he did to the butler that left marks on my back the day he came for me, but he’d made sure I knew. If he saw Lord Otto now, I doubted the lord would walk out of these castle walls without meeting the same fate.

But Caldamir was not here, and I was not Caldamir.

“Lord Otto.”

My voice stilled even the servants in their complicated, messy dance. Gravy spilled into someone’s lap. Wine overflowed a cup. An entire tray was knocked to the floor, but no one dared move, except to turn their heads to look at the lord seated at the far end of the table.

Lord Otto, in turn, took his time turning to me. His hand shook violently, even more violently now, as he went to set down his glass of wine. His hand remained on the table for a long moment, as unmoving as the rest of him, as he fixed his wavering stare on something directly in front of him, as if trying to focus on one thing to steady him. When he did look at me, when his eyes finally lifted to meet mine, they were red-rimmed and watery.

“King.”

His voice was surprisingly steady. Perhaps I’d forgotten just how much Otto was accustomed to drinking. Perhaps he shook more out of fear, and not drunkenness, than I thought.

Or perhaps he was simply so scared that it had sobered him more than I could remember having seen him, ever.

“Lord Otto, will you please rise? If you can.”

He kept looking at me for a long moment before he started to rise. His feet were unsteady beneath him, and for the first time, I noticed just how thin and white his hair had gotten. He, like Sol, had aged quite a bit since I left. I’d never noticed how old the lord was getting before, but now, combined with drink, he was so barely able to stand on his own that two sets of hands had to rush over to help him to his feet.

Two servants propped Lord Otto up by the elbows as he swayed back and forth on his feet, his knees barely able to support his weight. I pitied him even more, wished I hadn’t insisted that he stood, but knew it would only shame him more if I asked him to sit.

“Otto, you alone knew me before I left for faerie,” I started. “In fact, you were the one who sent me there.”

To either of my sides, Seren and Armene stiffened. Seren’s hand twitched, and a slight halo glimmered between two of his fingers, as if he was struggling, suddenly, to keep his own glamour in check. Armene, meanwhile, had slowly started to reach for a steak knife. Sand shifted across the floor, sifting from the general dirt and grime tracked into the human court, the Sand Prince’s power strong enough that even the most mundane of sand heeded his unspoken call.

Before either of them could act on the impulse I feared Caldamir already would have, I too started rising from my chair.

“Lord Otto, you sent me to faerie, and for that, some might never forgive you,” I said. “But I have nothing but gratitude for what you did.”

“You alone gave me shelter when no one else would. You alone gave me work, when my very hands were cursed. More than that, you gave me company. Companionship. Protection, before anyone else did. More than my own family did.”

A strangled, gurgled sound erupted from the back of Lord Otto’s throat. His eyes, merely watery before, now streamed with tears.

Heat flooded my own cheeks before I could stop it. I felt embarrassment, shame for bringing the man to this point, but there was nothing I could do to stop it now.

“Not a day has passed that I haven’t regretted it,” he said, between broken sobs. “When I saw you here, when I heard you’d come back…”

He stopped and shook his head, and for a moment, his knees did give way. Before either of the servants at his side could catch him, my shadows did. They snaked up his legs and around his knees and up to his waist, pulling him back up to his full height. The servants backed away so suddenly, it was as if real, venomous snakes had wound their way around Lord Otto instead.

It was only then that I recognized them, and when I did, the softness I’d felt for the lord died a little.

Leofwin and Ascilla, my old companions in the lord’s employ.

Time had not treated them kindly, either.

I was sorry about Ascilla, as much as I could be for a so-called friend who said nothing when I was dragged away to faerie. But Leofwin? My once lover turned traitor, a man who even now looked like he only knew what it was to be a boy, he was something else. I was pleased to see the way he balked at my power now, how the sight of me made him shrink back when he saw the light of recognition in my eyes.

I had much to say to both of them, and at the same time, nothing at all.

It was Lord Otto that I turned back to.

“There are greater lands in need of a lord now, Otto,” I said. “If you would take on the former Lord Gayge’s title, it is yours.”

He blinked at me for a long time, unspeaking, as he struggled to register what I’d said. I could see it in his drunken eyes that he was sure he imagined what I said.

“I have one condition, however,” I said, nodding towards Leofwin and Ascilla at his back, “they return to the manor and do not return to the castle henceforth. I do not wish their employment to be terminated, but I wish to never look upon their faces again.”

It was a cruel world, Alderia. I knew the two of them had worked hard to be granted time outside of our small village. Banishing them back to it, where they’d be forced to live out their lives in an abandoned estate while the lord they served finally came into his own second, greater title, would be punishment enough.

They sent me to certain death; I’d send them to a kind of their own.

“I don’t understand.”

It was not Lord Otto who croaked out the words at last. It was one of the other lords. He sat closest to me, his hand starting to tap the edge of his own wine goblet, as if he was considering joining Otto in the drink.

“We fae know mercy, too,” I said, in response. “Speaking of which.”

I turned back to the truth bringers.

“Bring me my brother.”