2. Puck
“You’ve got to be shitting me.”
Somehow, Edina makes the harsh phrase sound pretty, her melodic voice drifting over the words with just the right emphasis. She runs a hand through her long, blonde hair, letting it tumble over the side of the armchair she’s draped on. The position can’t be comfortable; her long legs are extended straight in the air and her lithe body is tucked at a right angle against the cushions, but this is how she always lays when she’s in my sitting room.
I recently redecorated the whole room in a pale gray that Edina assures me is calming. It’s paired with the traditional oak wood of the Spring Court and accented with forest green furniture, which I quite like. But I don’t view the palace as home. Even though it’s much larger than my treehouse apartment in the Varesen Forest, there are too many bad memories here for me to ever feel completely comfortable. But since I can’t often sneak away to my sanctuary, here I am.
“I can’t believe you created that phrase,” she chuckles, her sapphire eyes sparkling with mirth. “Do you know how many humans use it?”
Edina, while born Fae, grew up in the mortal realm amongst the witches after being stolen from her mother’s palace as a baby. The Winter Court queen searched for the missing princess relentlessly until one day, Edina showed up—fully emerged with her wings, pointed ears, and a lot of questions.
“It didn’t take the first go around, but I tried again on one of my recent trips to America, and it took off.”
Edina cackles, and I let myself revel in the easy friendship we’ve formed. As much as I love that she’s become my best friend, there are occasions when I wonder what if. What if Titania hadn’t gained control over my mind? What if I could have broken free from her thrall before I met Edina? What if Titania hadn’t made me reject our mating bond?
But that’s not what happened. I was only able to break free of her thrall a few very painful years after I rejected Edina. By then, the bond was irreparable and Edina had fallen in love with her current betrothed.
Whenever I bring it up, Edina says she thinks were destined to be friends. It doesn’t explain why our one night together was the best sex of my existence. Anytime I say that, she waves me off and reminds me of our kiss after the bond was broken—which was truly awful.
Still, it’s hard not to dwell on what could have been.
At least Titania got what she deserved. After almost four hundred years trapped under her spell, doing despicable things in her name, the magic weakened enough for me to seek the help of a witch in the mortal realm. Once it was broken, I cleaved Titania’s head from her body and stuck it on a pike in front of the palace.
“Did you listen to a word I just said?” Edina asks, drawing me from my melancholy.
“Not in the least.” I take a swig of my whiskey, the amber liquid burning on the way down, and give her an easy smile.
“I was asking,” she draws out the word emphatically, “if you were excited for today. This is the final vote, right?”
I nod.
There’s never been a successful coup in Fae history, so the other monarchs didn’t know how to handle it. And while I could have gone without their input and simply taken the throne, my court is weak from centuries of bad leadership and we wouldn’t survive a war against every other court. I also prefer being alive. So, I let them name me interim king and dutifully waited for them to decide if I could rule.
Today is finally the day when they vote on my fate.
“I’m not entirely sure they’ll go through with it,” I joke. The Fae are notorious for dragging their feet. For a realm full of immortals, urgency is not a virtue.
“I’ll force them.” Edina’s sun-kissed skin glows with promise, but I laugh her off. Just because she’s a princess doesn’t mean she can control five monarchs.
“You’ll be there today?” I ask, my voice sounding a bit more vulnerable than I intended. She abandons her casual pose and leans across the space, taking my hand. Her thumb runs across my knuckles, tracing the freckles on my pale skin.
“Wouldn’t miss it for the world.” Edina has the kind of smile that’s infectious. When it’s aimed at me, it’s impossible for my spirits not to lift.
There’s a knock at the door a moment before it swings open. “Hey, baby,” Edina coos, dropping my hand and running to her betrothed, Eldoris. The tall male snatches her when she leaps at him, the two laughing as he pulls her close and kisses her.
Eldoris is the Prince of Summer Court and the General of the Seelie Army. His umber-brown skin has gotten darker since he and Edina got together—no doubt because of her love of the beach—and the tattoos covering his torso are faintly visible through his white button-down shirt. Today, his antelope-like horns extend from his close-cropped dark curls.
We have a…tenuous relationship. One would think its because he’s her betrothed and I’m her ex-mate, but that isn’t the case. Eldoris is one of the most un-jealous Fae in existence. We’ve just never gotten along, but since we’re both connected to Edina, we do our best to make an effort.
“It’s time,” Eldoris says, setting her down and turning to me. A stone settles in my gut. I’m not sure why I’m so nervous, but there’s a sense of foreboding I can’t shake.
“Hey,” Edina says, suddenly in front of me, taking my hands. She gently guides me to stand and wraps me in a hug. My grip on her is tighter than it should be, but she doesn’t complain.
When she pulls away, her smile is back, lighting every inch of her beautiful face. “Let’s go get you crowned.”
The meeting of the monarchs and subsequent vote are being held in the palace dining room. The space is open and airy, with cream walls and wooden beams that adorn the high ceiling. A sage vine pattern snakes around the room, providing a slight pop of color. My favorite feature is the wall of windows that overlooks the hedge maze on the palace grounds. Since I’ve taken over, I’ve allowed the few Fae children of our realm to play in the maze, so there are often multi-colored flags extending over the greenery and Fae with wings monitoring their progress overhead. They’re absent now since the sun is setting, but I still search for them, straining to hear their laughter. The happiness of the Fae in my court is important to me. I know firsthand what it’s like to be miserable under a tyrannical monarch.
In the center of the room is a long table, big enough for the monarchs, their children, and advisors, though the latter are absent today. Everyone is already seated when Edina, Eldoris, and I arrive. With a final squeeze of my hand, Edina leaves me at the head of the table and sits beside her mother. The two could be twins, except Queen Gwyneira’s eyes are such a light blue they look like ice. She regards me with a cold expression, living up to her title as Winter Court queen.
Once Eldoris is seated beside his twin sister, the heir to the Summer Court, Gwyneira clears her throat. Two pixies—Fae that are no larger than the size of a dragonfly—flit to the door behind me and slam it shut, signaling the start of the meeting.
“Take a seat, Puck,” Gwyneira says, speaking on behalf of the other monarchs. She makes me feel like a child who has been invited to sit at the adult’s table, but I keep my mouth shut and take my place at the head of the table.
“Right,” Simi, the King of the Day Court, begins. He strokes his white beard, which has grown long enough to reach his navel, and stands out sharply to his russet-brown skin. “We’re here to determine if Puck of the Spring Court is eligible for coronation. As the longest reigning Seelie monarch, I will lead these proceedings.”
The Seelie Court is made up of the Summer, Spring, and Day Courts, and has been aligned since Titania married Oberon ages ago. Subsequently, Winter, Autumn, and Night Court make up the Unseelie Courts. The two factions spent most of history at odds, until recently, when we combined forces to fight in a war in the mortal realm. Most Fae believe it’s only a matter of time before the sides are at odds again, which is why Simi is running this meeting instead of Gwyneira—the oldest and most powerful Fae in the room.
“As we know,” Simi continues, his voice rough around the edges. “Puck has been elevated to interim king because of his successful coup and the untimely death of Queen Titania.”
“Good riddance,” Radley, the Prince of the Autumn Court, mutters loud enough for everyone to hear. Edina snickers; her mother glares.
“Because Titania and the late King Oberon—” who I also murdered “—had no heirs, the throne should pass to Puck.” Beside Simi, his daughter, Larisa, beams and flips her honey-colored hair behind her shoulder, revealing the golden butterfly tattoo on her temple. Larisa and I are old friends, though we grew distant during the years I was in Titania’s hold.
“I’ve spoken with Spring Court soldiers stationed both in and outside this court, and they’re all in agreement,” Eldoris says. As the general of the Seelie Army, his testimony is crucial. “They overwhelmingly support Puck in his ascension. Some say that, in the short tenure of his rule, he has proven to be a better king than Oberon.”
“The subjects within the court—both courtiers and villagers—corroborate these feelings,” Larisa adds. “They adore Puck.”
“There is just the issue of how he seized power,” Zahir, King of the Night Court, says with a fake smile that’s as white as his hair. Zahir is the newest monarch and it’s not surprising my coup scares him. It’s common knowledge that he’s afraid one of his siblings will steal his crown. “If we reward slaughtering monarchs, anyone will think they can do it,” he booms, his voice growing louder in his agitation. “He should be in the dungeon, not on the throne.”
“So dramatic,” Edina drawls, earning a glower from Zahir and Gwyneira. She doesn’t back down. “The only reason Puck was able to get close enough to Titania to kill her was because she had him under a spell. Which, I’d like to add, none of you did anything about.”
It’s hard to make a group of self-important Fae feel ashamed, and yet her last statement has five pairs of eyes looking at their laps. I always wondered if the other monarchs knew, or even suspected, that Titania was using magic to control me. Now I know they did.
“I think we’ve heard enough,” Gwyneira says, seizing control from Simi. “We’ve delayed this vote for too long; it’s time to decide on the fate of Spring Court.”
Simi grumbles something under his breath, then says, “Puck, do you agree to honor whatever decision the monarchs make?”
I sit up straighter. “I do.”
“And do you promise to serve your court if you are not selected to sit on the throne?”
I’d love to say no and run off to the mortal realm if this doesn’t go my way, but I fear that will be a negative mark against me. I refuse to give them a reason not to make me king.
“I do.”
I think Simi’s mouth quirks up, though it’s hard to tell under his beard. “Each monarch will cast their vote. Yea for Puck taking the throne; nay for finding another suitable candidate.”
This is it. I didn’t think this would happen today, so I didn’t allow myself time to be nervous. Now, I’m terrified.
If I look at the facts, there are three Unseelie and two Seelie monarchs voting. If they vote based on court loyalties, I’ll lose. One of them has to break ranks. I already know it won’t be Zahir. Oakley, the Autumn Court king, usually follows Gwyneira’s lead.
Edina gives me a confident smile. Does she know something, or is she just trying to be reassuring?
The silence before the vote is deafening. I’m trying so hard to appear confident, but I’m sure they can see my shallow breaths and the thin line of sweat beading on my upper lip.
“In honor of the Day Court,” Simi says. “I vote yea.”
“In honor of the Summer Court, I vote yea,” Queen Talia of Summer Court says.
“In honor of the Night Court, I vote nay.” By the goddess, Zahir’s voice is annoying.
That’s as I expected. The next two votes are the ones that count.
Oakley and Gwyneira exchange a look before the latter starts speaking. “In honor of the Winter Court,” she begins, her voice careful and devoid of emotion. I can’t read her. I have no idea which way this is going to go.
The room collectively holds its breath as she draws out her decision. It’s like she’s trying to make my heart burst so she doesn’t have to give her damn answer. She always has had a flare for the dramatic, a trait that passed seamlessly to her daughter.
“I vote—”
The doors are thrown open with a clang, making everyone at the table jump. Gwyneira halts in her tracks, the decision delayed again as we all turn to see the intruder.