Chapter Seventeen
Cian
PRETENDING TO BE HELD as a weary prisoner between the guards’ arms, I stumble into the Throne Room, prodded, shoved, and dragged before the great seat before being tumbled in a dishonorable heap.
Of course Frederick’s in the Throne Room. He thinks he looks majestic upon the Antler Throne, but in truth, he looks like the same slimy bastard he’s always been. I’ve never trusted him. Turns out, I was right.
But there are those who will follow him with willing hearts, seeing a way to pave their futures with gold and power.
Weak stags, those who can’t earn a living honestly and by their own merits, love an equally weak leader.
And I don’t mean weak the way Ayala was weak.
I mean weak in the way she’s strong. Inside.
Chuckling with glee, Frederick steps to the edge of the platform to get a better look at me, but it’s not my first day with lowlife scum.
I keep my face hidden until his own curiosity and his desire to grind me into the dirt get the best of him.
He steps down the stairs until his crimson slippers—gods damn him, my crimson slippers with their embroidered racks of twenty-four points—rest by my nose.
“Not so high and mighty now, are we, Cian?”
I don’t respond in any way, waiting for my moment.
He kicks at my head. The force of the strike lifts my forehead back, but I make certain it wobbles forward again.
He laughs. “Weak fucking bastard. You gave it all up, and for what? The love of a woman? Unbelievable. I’d say your recent poisoning addled your brains.
You could have had my Fawn, you know, back when you still had the balls for it.
” Then he leans over, as I knew he would, to whisper in my ear.
“I was forced to trade her maidenhood to that lowbrow Hornbeam in order to get the poison into you, so see? It’s your own fault you’re about to feel my points.
But matters must be kept civilized for all the looky-loos. They love their challenges.”
“Urumphghrp.”
I don’t know what he thinks I’ve said with my meaningless jumble of sounds, but he laughs again.
“Exactly.” And leans in closer still. His fetid breath washes my ear.
“Truth is, that doe of yours moved matters up faster than I intended. Roffey was supposed to poison your meat at month’s end, once I could tap deep enough into the ley lines at the strike point, but no matter.
Now I can do so openly. Talk about the hands of fate moving with the most promising.
” He clicks his tongue against his teeth.
“I’ll have to thank your mate later when I rape her on my cock. ”
Don’t move. He’s looking to goad you.
And doing a fucking good job of it. It takes every last ounce of will I possess not to savage him where he stands.
At least he’s given me my evidence. My answers. He was behind the whole bloody thing from the start.
My intention had been to rise from my sprawl, which is no sprawl at all, with my hand wrapped around his throat.
I’d intended an instant execution, but maybe a fair fight is better.
Because Hunter and Ayala were right. Whatever was supposed to happen to me either didn’t, or I was much stronger than I thought to begin with.
And even if I have lost half my strength, I’m still twice the stag Frederick is.
And that makes me king.
Frederick’s shift into stag form ripples the air and brushes the hair at the top of my head. He’s a powerful stag, possessed of an ancient and magickal bloodline, but he’s so used to playing it the easy way, minimizing risk rather than embracing it, that he’s lost a valuable edge.
Finally understanding there’s to be an execution—of me, apparently—the courtiers scurry to the corners of the room in a rush to avoid injury.
Frederick moves back a few paces, steam blowing through his nostrils.
His antlers, eighteen-point, sway with his head as he tries to find his balance for the charge.
I wait. I wait. The last sway...
I strike. Shifting in mid-air, timing it just right, my points are blades when they connect with his barrel chest. Blood spurts, drenching my antlers, falling like drops of red rain upon the stone floor.
I can’t see his face, but I don’t need to.
I feel his shock. I hear his scream inside my head. Everyone hears it.
“Fuck off and die,” I snarl inside mine in response. “You’re guilty of treason. Death is your sentence.”
And I’ll stomp him into jelly if he’s equally guilty of regicide. Hunter had better be well.
“I. Hate. You.” The words are light, barely scratching my mind as his life energy drains back to the earth from whence it came.
“Feeling’s entirely mutual.” I shake him from me like a bag of flour, and he flies across the floor.
Lazy he might be, but he attempts to lift to his knees, and from his knees to his feet. Charge. He’s about to charge me. The tell is easy enough for a fawn to see.
And because I want to make a point for his followers, I let him. He gathers strength from I don’t know where and leaps. The brush of wind on my points is the only connection he makes as I simply step to the side.
I’m toying with him, showing my strength, but when he tumbles, I spot Ayala, biting her fist in the doorway of the guards’ secret passage.
Better to end this fast. I thought to make a spectacle of his death, to better secure Hunter’s rule once he challenges me again, but needs must. I don’t want another moment of worry to take any of our newly mated joy from her, not if I can help it.
When Frederick picks himself up and comes at me again, head lowered, a bleating yowl grating from his throat, I fall to my belly just as his points would have found my middle.
Instead, I raise my antlers up and skewer him through to his spine.
Deep. Deadly. Fatal. For good measure, I twist, exacerbating his pain before I raise him to the ceiling on my rack, a sign of victory no one can gainsay.
“No!” The long cry cuts the silence before a flash of long limbs in royal purple dress leaps at me through the air.
Fawn. I recognize her at the last moment by the ornate gold pin she always wears near her shoulder. Otherwise, I wouldn’t see her pretty face in the twisted features that attack me. I’m so shocked by her actions, it’s too many moments before I realize she holds a long dagger in her hand.
My antlers, stuck in her father’s middle, take too long to fall. The metal point pierces the fur on my chest... and disappears before striking through my hide.
Two does in human guise tumble over me, knocking the dagger to the floor with a clatter. What the...?
I scream as I realize the other doe is Ayala. “No! Cease!”
But neither one listens. In turns, I see my mate’s face, focused and determined, and Fawn’s, crazed. Then somehow, Ayala manages to land on top of Fawn. She wraps her hands in Fawn’s long brown mane and slams her opponent’s head hard against the floor. Three times...
Fawn’s head lolls to the side, her expression vacant.
With a twist of my head, I throw the dead or nearly dead Frederick from my antlers and shift back into human form. Crossing to where Ayala sits upon Fawn’s middle, I gently lift her from her terrible perch.
“It’s okay. It’s all okay, love. You did well. You were marvelous. Thank you. Thank you.” And I draw her into me, spreading kisses everywhere I can touch, protecting her from the aftermath and the realization of what she’s just done. Letting it sink in slowly.
I remember my first kill. I remember all of them. And behind each sits a horrific guilt, only tolerable because every death took me a step closer to the Antler Throne and my responsibilities.
Which I gave up for Ayala.
I can’t name the twisting, haunting collapse inside my gut, but I think guilt is too small a word.
“Is she dead?” Ayala asks, her voice ragged.
“She is. You saved me, love. You were magnificent.”
Her eyes pierce mine. “When I saw her grab the dagger from the table and leap at you, I thought... well, I didn’t think.” She swallows. “Am I in trouble now?”
I glance around the room. Everyone I see is sinking to their knees, foreheads to the floor. “No, love. You saved a king. You saved your mate from treachery. Your actions are doubly justified by our laws.”
Her trembling fingers reach up to stroke my cheek. “But you’re not king anymore.”
“True, but I doubt Hunter’s going to be upset I stole a few moments back just now. And technically, since I just killed Frederick in a proper challenge, I’m back to being me.” Over her shoulder, I find one of the guards. “Bring Hunter to me.”
Even if he’s injured, it won’t take much effort for him to reclaim the Antler Throne. I’ll lie on the floor, and he can step on me. Form should suffice since he bested me once before.
Silence falls upon the room as we wait. Ayala shivers in my grasp. The Antler Throne looms to my side, empty. Also waiting. Mocking me for choosing love over duty. But Ayala is warm in my arms as a throne can never be.
It isn’t a choice. It’s what must be.
Hunter, when he limps in, is a bloody mess. His leg is obviously broken. Blood covers him from forehead to toe, but he smiles brightly when he sees me with Ayala. His glance takes in the dead Fawn.
“Looks like I missed the festivities.”
“That’s what happens when you take a spa day your first few hours on the throne.”
“What can I say? I needed a leg wax.”
From the gathered nobles, a few chuckles emerge. The tension in the room noticeably diminishes, as does mine. If he can banter, he’ll live.
“I’d reconsider my patronage of that particular spa. You look like dubnos.”
“Anyway, just wanted you to feel useful, rescuing me, and all.” His gaze tracks again to Fawn and the pool of blood beneath her brown hair, and then to the crumpled body of Frederick Freeborn nearer the edge of the space. “Been busy, I see?”
“Made a bit of a mess while you were lolling about. Nothing the staff can’t handle. Now.” I unwind from Ayala so I can go down on my knees with the intention of splaying along the floor like the jellyfish that haunt the beaches of the phoenix’s kingdom.
But the idiot falls to his knees before I can manage.
“Get up, you fucker. I need you to defeat me in front of everyone,” I whisper, grabbing his arms.
Wiggling out of my hold because I’m afraid to grasp him too tightly, not knowing where his injuries lie, he sends me a beatific smile before falling flat on the ground, nose pressed to the wood.
I look around the room. Heads are lifted. Smiles prevail.
Fuck.
“I hear rumor,” Hunter says, voice ringing loudly through the room, “that our new queen kicked some traitor ass.”
“She did at that,” someone shouts from the back.
“A mate worth having,” someone else echoes. “You should have seen her protect the king.”
Hunter cocks his head up on his fists to smile up at me. “And there you have it, my king.” He raises his voice. “Other rumors aren’t true at all. You didn’t lose your strength, though your queen gained from your mating. I think you’ve just overthrown convention and reordered society.”
“Here, here!” a few people shout.
More echo the sentiment.
My gaze lands upon a stag and doe near the doors. I don’t know who she is, but she’s obviously not of high status. Her robe is nearly threadbare, and power barely trickles from her. The stag, though... he’s a powerful warrior, and the head of my outer guard.
Looks like I’ve started something.
But I latch my attention back on my friend. “You’re supposed to be king, Hunter,” I explain, in case he’s lost his mind with the beating he took. “We agreed.”
He plops down on his cheek, clearly weakened by his time in the dungeons.
“That was before your mate demonstrated her strength. From the weakest of us all to queen within two handfuls of days... it’s a tale made for the bards.
No one will want to unseat her after this.
You’re going to make intermarriage fashionable.
She’s a hero, Cian, so keep your fucking throne. ”
I turn to Ayala, who’s looking at me with wide eyes, searching to make certain I’m fine. Wondering which direction I’m going to travel.
After this, I’m going to make sure she has equal say. But this moment is on me. I can’t shirk it.
“Permission to change course yet again, love?”
“Is this going to become habit with you, being king, not being king, being king again?”
“Probably. Any interest in being queen?”
She looks around the room. There’s nothing on anyone’s face but appreciation and support. They might have hated her when they thought she reached too far, but she just saved their king. Hunter’s right. She’s their hero now.
And later? I’m not fool enough to believe the tides won’t shift again, but she’s proven she can handle herself.
Her smile widens. “Guess it pays to be an under-baker with an under-baker’s dreams.”
“Is that a yes, love?”
“Oh, for bloody sake, Ayala. Tell him yes. I need a bed under me before I embarrass myself by passing out,” Hunter groans.
She laughs before kissing me soundly on the lips. “Then yes, yes, I’ll be your queen.”
With one move, I lift her into my arms and then over my head, much as I did with Frederick. Victory is victory, whatever end of the emotional spectrum it lands on. “Long live the queen!”
“Long live the queen!” my people shout back.
And when I glance up towards the ceiling, a ghostly image of Cernunnos looks down. He smiles and raises his thumb.
Maybe in fulfilling my destiny, I’ve fulfilled his as well. I’ll never be a god. He’ll never mate the goddess he loves. Seems an even balance.
Ayala gasps. “Put me down. Did you see that? Is that the god?” she demands.
I don’t give her a chance to look further. The moment her feet touch the floor, I drag her so close to me that a leaf couldn’t fit between us. I cover her lips with mine.
Wine of the dreamers never tasted so sweet.
The End