Chapter Eight #2
A laugh from the king as he runs a large hand through his bronze locks.
“But a female is many things,” I rush on. “As are males. And just like a male, she can perform. She can please. And she can push.”
The doors to the entrance hall swing open. A gasp from the crowd. Before retreating from the dais, I speak one last time: “Your gift, from the House of Illusion, Your Magnificence.”
But the king’s gaze has already caught onto the figure at the back of the room.
As I turn, my jaw goes slack. I knew it was coming, and still—I almost fall to my knees at the sight.
Kassandra can be cruel, vindictive, spoiled, and jealous.
There is a part of me that is twisted and mangled and ashamed of myself because she has said I should be.
Yet she is magnetic. As the doors part, Kassandra enters the throne room atop a pregnant silver mare. The animal nudges forward, flipping her silver mane, and so does Kassandra.
All my lady wears is a constellation of diamonds and pearls that drape across her skin and over her nipples and pool between her thighs.
Lingerie made of gems, swirling and streaking along her toned stomach, perfectly curated to her measurements, meant for her wedding night, which has yet to happen.
Her lips are a smudge of blood red, as are her sharpened daggerlike nails.
I detest my mistress, but not even I can deny the truth.
She is the most stunning fae in the room.
The loud male swallow behind me indicates I’m not the only one who thinks so.
The crowd parts as the silver mare enters the space. Her sides bulge with a growing foal, though one that will not come for many months. It makes the horse appear larger, more powerful. A mountain of a creature. And the fae atop her like some celestial being.
I back up with the group of nobles who crane their necks.
If they could tear their gazes away from Kassandra for a moment, they would see Jeremee, walking along the aisle of people, the horse’s reins in his tattooed hands, hovering just at the wings of this performance.
And if they were to look beyond Kassandra, which no one is doing but me, they would see Benji with a rake, pushing manure into a contraption.
With Jeremee’s help, Kassandra guides the silver mare to the king and Dominik, their mouths agape. It stops about a yard away, stamping at the ground with a hoof. King Maxian blinks as if in a stupor.
Kassandra slides off the mare, Jeremee helping her down. She flashes him a smile, and he blushes. My stomach lurches. To anyone else, he’s another Crest; to Kassandra, he’s a part of the plan. The king shifts, his jaw sets, a small bulge of muscle on one side.
Kassandra sweeps toward King Maxian and curtsies. He offers a large hand, and she slips hers into his palm. He kisses her knuckles, eyes dipping to her mouth.
“Lady Kassandra.”
“Your Magnificence,” she hums.
I almost choke at how different her voice sounds. Husky and deep. Intimate in a way that I shouldn’t be hearing. But that’s the point.
“The Healers say she will have a colt,” Kassandra announces, gesturing to the mare.
The water rises out of the bucket, swirling and forming into a shape four feet tall.
A foal made of water. The king tears his gaze from Kassandra’s breasts to observe the advanced root magic, which shifts and molds into a detailed rendering of the animal.
The water horse whinnies, and the crowd gasps at the sound. Even the mare huffs in response.
Kassandra does not just draw upon her root magic. No, she layers her Illusions on top of it. When the water colt tosses his head, the mane swishes.
She continues, “When she gives birth in four months, that silver colt shall be yours. It will be the first silver stallion that the House of Illusion gifts away, and we gladly gift it to you.”
The king’s eyes spark. “Oh? Well now, count me a lucky male.”
A soft chuckle through the crowd. I catch the small step Dominik takes forward. Kassandra levels her brother with a glance.
“Yes,” she says, flicking her hand.
The colt springs to life, galloping up and down the throne room, false hooves clacking against real tiles. The High Fae gasp and stumble back as the water creature flies past them.
Kassandra twirls a pointed finger in the air.
From the back of the gallery, the horse breaks into a full sprint. Galloping and galloping, he rushes past the mare, which whinnies, and Jeremee places a hand on her muzzle. The water colt speeds toward the dais.
The king shifts, a hand going to his side. It’s then that I spot the weapon of the House of Reign on his belt. The Golden Whip.
Please don’t react, I think. Not yet.
“Do not fear,” Kassandra coos as the colt rushes up from behind.
He flies toward the king, and she holds up a hand. The Illusion halts, then crystallizes into an ice sculpture.
“Would you like to pet him?” she asks.
As he reaches forward, the horse shatters, and thousands of shards pool on the ground at his feet. Kassandra stiffens, the king raising a brow. Behind them, Dominik tuts.
“Cute,” he says. “Now, let us continue with our night.”
Kassandra purses her lips, gaze narrowing. “Cover your eyes, brother.” She looks to the king. “Do you prefer diamonds or pearls?”
“What?” both males say.
My heart thuds. What the planes is she up to?
“Diamonds or pearls, Your Magnificence?” My mistress gestures to the glittering gems skimming her body.
The king pauses. “Diamonds.”
An interesting choice. Diamonds are the lesser jewel—there are so many of them—but then again, they are the hardest gemstone in Amyria.
“I knew you were a male of practicality,” Kassandra says.
Diamonds begin plucking off her lingerie, the spider silk stringing them together falling away from her body like strands of hair.
“For fuck’s sake…” Dominik glances away.
I gawk as a year of work is deconstructed. The jewels float off her body, the pearls scattering across the floor. For several moments, the diamonds just hover in the air like raindrops captured in time. Kassandra breathes, sweat beading her upper lip. The diamonds swirl in the air.
“An unbreakable reign deserves an unbreakable weapon.”
The gemstones glow, twist, form a giant lump that spins and spins as it elongates. A shape emerges, the bottom half sculpting into a hilt. A sparkling dagger.
Kassandra has forged a dagger out of diamonds.
“For you, Your Magnificence,” she says, swaying.
She floats the weapon toward the king. He watches it, puzzled, but reaches forward. His hand grips the handle, plucking the object from the air itself.
The crowd gasps.
I blink, and blink again. Kassandra’s Illusion is so powerful it seems real. It seems…material. Maybe it is—but that would be an impossible feat.
No one seems to breathe.
Then the king holds up the knife. “A diamond dagger!” he announces, and the room erupts into enthusiastic applause.
Kassandra tips backward, a shimmer around her as energy returns to the plane. Jeremee catches her, naked and shaking, eyes rolling into the back of her head. The nobles around us surge closer to the dais for a better look, whispering:
“—have you ever seen—”
“But a female?”
Briar throws a cloak over the fae as I reach her side. Her head lolls back.
“That was…” Jeremee glances down at her limp body. “I didn’t know they could do that.”
“I don’t think Illusion can,” I say.
Briar shakes her head. “I’ll grab some water.”
Locating the smelling salts, I pull them out of my pocket. They were in case the water foal trick fatigued her, but that wasn’t the grand Illusion for which she stored the plane on her skin. She had come up with her own grand plan. A public display of female power. Respect blooms inside me.
I hold the salt under her nose. My mistress gasps. Her face is pale, sweaty. Eyes bloodshot. In a moment, Briar is back with a goblet of water, tipping the liquid into Kassandra’s mouth. Jeremee props her on her feet.
“On the horse,” I say.
He lifts her shuddering frame up onto the mare’s back, sidesaddle. She leans against the horse’s neck, wrapping an arm around the creature, clutching the cloak to her figure. Jeremee wraps the reins around her wrist.
“Did we do it?” she groans. “Are they dazzled?”
I glance up at the dais as the males of the inner circle examine the diamond dagger. I turn back to Kassandra.
“You did,” I say, smiling.
My mistress smiles back.
It doesn’t last long.
Not as her brother strides forward, slicking his hair back. His beady black eyes find us. He wanted a performance. She gave him one.
“A powerful trick.” The king beams, dropping onto his throne. “Maybe even more powerful than you, Dom.”
The High Fae chortle, some sneaking glances at Lord Dominik.
The air rushes around us with the icy feel of an Illusion. Dread sinks into my stomach as the sound of Dominik’s voice hisses in our ears, low and biting. What the fuck have you done?
Kassandra flinches.
“High Fae of the realm,” Dominik calls to the room, face flushed. After they quiet, he bows to the king. “For your patience during my sister’s Illusion performance and as a gesture of goodwill between our two Houses, I would like to grant you one last gift.”
“Two gifts from Illusion!” Maxian says. “I truly am lucky, aren’t I?”
The High Fae laugh uneasily. Dominik stalks off the dais, unbridled rage glinting in his eye. Jeremee tenses beside me, and Kassandra struggles to sit up.
Dominik’s going to hurt her, I think with sudden clarity. Right here, in front of everyone, he will hurt her.
“You,” Dominik snarls. Kassandra stifles a sob.
Dimly aware of Jae hissing my name, I step in front of her, drawing to my full height. I may only have root magic, but my genius is not drained. Dominik bares his canines.
I bare mine back.
“No one comes between us,” the male seethes. “No one.”
Instead, the Heir of Illusion grabs me, yanking me into his chest. Another hand clamps down on my startled cry. Dominik reeks of wine and sweat and something stronger. He’s not just angry; he’s drunk and unraveling.
A frozen whisper in my ear. “Now, you’re going to behave—”
I bite his palm and the fae grunts.
“You just made it so much worse,” he says. Then he lets go. I sway for a moment.
“Avvie?” a small voice asks behind us.
Benji.
I forgot he was there, and that was the point of his role tonight.
I glance back to see Benji and Jae looking at me with expressions of undiluted terror.
Before I can tell them it’ll be okay, Dominik shoves me toward the dais.
I tumble toward the ground, but invisible hands right me on my feet, squeezing my arms.
“Lord Dominik?” the king asks, sitting forward.
Before me are the most powerful males in the realm. King Maxian Vandorne, his advisor, the executioner, and the Head of Healing. Their gazes all fall onto me, and my body trembles with the power flooding the plane. If it weren’t for Dominik’s invisible hands, I would not stay upright.
“Our most loyal night servant.” Dominik gestures. “You may have her.”
My stomach bottoms out.
If I go to Reign, what will happen to Jeremee and Benji? I can’t slip coins in their pockets if I no longer live in the Nest. I’ve never even met another faerie from the center of Versara. No, it’s too soon. Jae and I are talking tomorrow.
Please don’t let me go, I think. Please.
“She is yours,” Dominik tells the king.
“Wait!” Kassandra cries from behind us.
Surprise murmurs through the crowd.
The king’s attention slips over my shoulder, his forehead shiny, the crown crooked.
He’s drunk, I understand. They’re all drunk. The service has been going on for hours, and they’re bored. Bored fae break things for fun.
“Lady Kassandra?” the king asks.
A shuffling of feet, then a pause.
I understand even as a faerie: Illusion looks divided.
“She…” Kassandra clears her throat. “She does my hair the way I like.”
Dominik pinches the bridge of his nose.
The king’s attention swivels back to me, a grin tugging at his lips.
Every part of me screams to drop to my knees, to look away.
A primal instinct, bowing to the stronger predator.
Yet I plead with the king, unmasking my fear and desperation and hope, purging my potent genius onto the plane around us.
He cocks his head, nostrils flaring.
“We can share her, if you’d like,” he says. “A gesture of goodwill, as your brother calls it.”
“Your Magnificence, do not feel for my sister over this servant. Kassandra gets attached easily—”
Lie, lie, lie.
The king holds up a hand to stop Dominik. “I will share the faerie, since I love my dagger so much,” he says. “Two moon cycles with me, then one with you.”
“Thank you,” Kassandra whispers. “Thank you.”
This must be an Illusion, a nightmare, another world.
The phantom hands let go. I sink to my knees, head bowed before the king, who still lounges on his throne.
“Your Magnificence,” I whisper.
“Besides, Max,” Dominik mutters, so that only the Upper Court and I can hear. “You did say you enjoyed the faerie’s mouth. Now you can enjoy it almost every night.”
A sob escapes me.
Movement to the right of the throne. The king’s executioner says in a gravelly voice, “I wouldn’t do that, boy—”
Something brown splatters against Dominik’s silver tunic. He shrieks, and a rank smell cascades over me.
Horse manure.
The executioner flashes forward and lifts up a small faerie boy with golden curls. I catch a glimpse of Benji’s round face, streaked with tears.
The court explodes into chaos.