CHAPTER 42
“Atoast to my dead husband!” Erissa cheered, raising her glass.
The last few minutes were a foggy mess in my mind. At Lyssandra’s insistence, everyone had returned to their seats at the dining table – of course, everyone but Ikelos, whose body had been left untouched on the floor. I then vaguely remembered Arenn scooping me up from where I was kneeling and placing me into a chair beside him at the table. And then someone else, possibly Erissa, filling my goblet with wine. But I barely recalled lifting the glass to my lips – only how much my hands shook as I gripped the stem of the goblet.
I couldn’t explain the feeling. Every time I caught sight of the dead king’s body, a cold dread crept up from my toes. I’d seen death before, many times. We used to have cadavers delivered to my home village so we could study them, but they were just tools for learning. This was a human being. A king. He’d been alive just minutes ago, and now he was dead.
I downed the wine. Then I snatched Arenn’s glass and downed that too.
“That’s the spirit, Naria!” Erissa grinned. “You know, I think we should throw a ball.” She glanced at the Faery Queen. “You’ll help me plan it, won’t you, Amie? Let the whole realm celebrate with us! Everyone shall be invited. It’s been years since—”
“The King is dead, Mother,” Lukas growled, his knuckles turning white as he gripped the head of his wine goblet. “Your husband is dead. Show some respect.”
Silence fell over the table, and I risked a glance at Lyssandra. She’d been oddly quiet since Ikelos’s death, her focus remaining fixed on her goblet as she sipped her wine slowly.
“Is the wine not to your liking?” Erissa asked, twisting to face her.
“It’s fine,” Lyssandra shot back in a raspy voice. “I just—” She cleared her throat. “I think we should drink something a bit stronger.”
Without a moment’s hesitation, Erissa signalled to a nearby trembling faery servant. “Fetch us the strongest wine. Quickly!” She spoke with such confidence, as if this were her own kingdom. I’d never seen her like this before. Perhaps the King’s death had restored some of her sanity.
Although any hope of that soon faded when the servant hurried back with a black bottle of faery wine. After the servant placed the bottle on the table, Erissa swiped Lyssandra’s goblet and promptly tossed the leftovers over her shoulder, as if this were the usual way to deal with unwanted wine. We all watched in surprise as the red liquid splashed against the sparkling white floor, some of it landing on the poor servant’s apron.
“Ugh, clean that up, won’t you?” Erissa groaned, as if the entire deliberate act was an accident. The trembling servant didn’t hesitate to obey, falling to her knees to wipe up the stain.
“Clumsy thing,” Erissa scoffed as she poured the wine, filling both hers and Lyssandra’s goblets to the brim. With an innocent smile, she handed Lyssandra her goblet back. “To my dead husband, and to our future friendship!” She raised her glass high.
“Indeed,” Lyssandra grumbled, before downing the entire glass in a few deep swigs. After lowering her goblet, she paused for a moment, then added, “You do realise that now Ikelos is dead, I will be taking your kingdom?”
Erissa nodded with a light chuckle. “Of course! It’s no good to me anyway, dear.”
Lyssandra’s lips thinned. “And I will be killing your son.” Gasping, my heart lurched as if someone had just punched me in the chest. “I thought about keeping him as a pet,” she yawned, “but he looks far too similar to Ikelos for my liking.”
“Do whatever you’d like to him.” Erissa shrugged as my heart raced. “He was always more of my husband’s son than my own. I never wanted children, but the King had to have his heir.”
“How could you say that?” I spat.
Erissa shot me a warning look. “Quiet, girl.”
All this time, Lukas said nothing, choosing instead to stare blankly at his goblet, as if he’d heard all this before. It took everything within me to not reach for his hand across the table, but Arenn’s heavy palm pressing into my thigh served as a reminder for what would happen if I tried.
“It’s strange,” Lyssandra mused as she rested her chin in her palm. “I thought I’d feel happy once Ikelos was dead… But instead, I feel—” she yawned again – “empty and…” Her eyes flickered shut for a moment before they snapped open. “What?” she gasped, snatching her goblet. “What isss in this w-wine?” But I could hardly understand the slurry mess of words that fell out of her mouth.
Erissa grinned wildly. “Special Corlixin sleeping powder. Courtesy of dear Naria’s medicine collection.” She tossed me a wink.
“You poisoned me?” Lyssandra whimpered, clutching at her throat.
“Oh no, dear,” Erissa chuckled. “I take some every night to help me sleep. I just gave you about five nights’ worth.”
Five nights wouldn’t kill her, though she’d probably spend the next few days in bed.
I blinked as the realisation in my mind washed away some of the rage. So that was why she poured the wine onto the floor… A distraction?
“I truly am grateful that you murdered my husband,” Erissa carried on. “It feels like a weight the size of the realm has lifted off my shoulders. But I’m afraid I can’t have you killing my son. As much as he’s always reminded me of him, my son is innocent, and so is Princess Naria.”
“I was never… going to… hurt her.” Lyssandra’s head lolled with sleep.
“Oh Lyssi,” the Faery Queen wept. “Whatever happened to my sweet baby girl?”
When her eyelids finally fluttered shut and her body slumped back in her chair, a silence fell over us all. But it lasted for barely a moment before King Bevan shot out of his seat.
“Guards!” he barked, as several faery men rushed into the room. “Take Lyssandra to a spare bedchamber. Bind her with iron chains – make sure they are iron!” he insisted. “And then lock the door. I want at least two guards outside her room at all times.”
“Yes, sir!” The guards obeyed, swiftly lifting the sleeping faery out of her chair.
The King then swept his gaze over to his son, who was lounging lazily in his seat beside me.
“Arenn, go with them,” King Bevan ordered. “See to it that they bind her in the correct chains. We can’t risk her using any of her abilities again.”
“Can’t you just trust your own guards?” Arenn complained, reluctantly heaving himself out of the dining chair.
The King shook his head. “We can’t let there be any more mistakes. Your mother and I didn’t know how strong she was before. But we’ve all seen it now. She has the Divine Gift, and more power than any of us. The whole realm will suffer if she overwhelms us for a second time.”
I didn’t have a chance to ask what he possibly meant by ‘Divine Gift’ as Arenn huffed and then offered his hand out to me. “Let’s go, human.”
At his words, Lukas shot up, now free of the chains that had bound him before. “She’s not going anywhere with you,” he stated, anger biting at his tone.
“I suggest you sit back down, princeling,” Arenn growled.
“My father is dead,” Lukas answered coldly, “therefore I am no longer a prince.”
Arenn scoffed. “Prince or not, Naria and I are still engaged. By faery law, that means I own her.” I opened my mouth to protest, but one sharp look from the faery prince forced my lips to clamp shut.
Lukas was silent for a few breaths before he turned to glare at King Bevan. “Today your daughter murdered a king,” he started, his voice strong. “When the other rulers find out – and they will find out – they will send their armies. You might be fae, but there are at least ten times more humans. Your strength is no match for our numbers.” His eyes narrowed. “So let me offer you a deal, from one king to another.” Pausing, he marched over to the Faery King, only stopping when he was mere inches away. Despite being at least half his age, Lukas towered over him. “I will tell the rulers that Ikelos died from his curse. I will tell them that we travelled here to search for a cure and that you all tried your very best, but there was nothing you could do. You can keep Lyssandra. Forges know you’re probably the only ones who can contain her anyway. But in return, I need your army to help dispose of the goblins, and,” Lukas paused, his jaw tightening, “Naria will return home to Drothmore, with me.”
“Absolutely not!” Arenn thundered.
Ignoring his son’s protests, the Faery King stroked his beard in thought. “How long will you require our army for?”
“No more than a day,” Lukas replied. “The goblins are cowards. They’ll flee at the slightest whiff of faery magic.”
King Bevan nodded as my heart raced so fast it could’ve burst from my chest. “Then we have a deal.”
“Father!” Arenn’s jaw almost hit the floor. “You can’t let him take her from me! I am your son and she is my betrothed, does that mean nothing to you?”
“Quiet, boy.” The Faery King flashed him a glare. “The new King of Drothmore is being very generous to us. We should be grateful that this is all he wants.”
“But Father—” Arenn attempted to argue more, but was interrupted when Queen Amabel pushed up from her seat. Quickly, she hurried over to his side and tugged his ear towards her lips. She spoke to him for only a few moments, in a hushed whisper, until eventually, with a sweet smile, she pulled away and returned to her place at the table.
I didn’t hear what she’d whispered, but whatever it was, it must’ve been very convincing. Arenn scowled at Lukas before lowering his gaze to where I was still seated.
Leaning in close until his lips brushed my ear, he dropped his voice to a low whisper. “You can run back to Drothmore with your princeling. You can even run to the other side of the realm. But remember what I told you in my bedchamber, little human… Soon, you won’t be able to stay away.” Delicately, he scooped up my hand and planted a soft kiss onto my skin.
“Until we meet again, dear princess.” Then, with a reluctant smile, he sauntered out of the dining room.