Chapter Fourteen #2
Maxian shakes hands with Hector Vandorne, the king’s advisor.
The cloaked figure of the executioner stands off to the side, arms clasped behind his back.
The king gives him a nod, and with another puff of smoke, the executioner is gone.
Maxian and Hector exchange pleasantries as they settle into their seats.
I bring the brown liquor over to Hector, who nods as I place the drink down.
Wrapping thick fingers around the glass, he drains it instantly.
“Your Magnificence, I have some concerns,” he says, voice gruff.
The king gestures. “Please.”
“It’s regarding the coronation.”
I force my legs to move as the servants’ door opens. Lila carries a tray of greens topped with apples, crumbling cheese, pine nuts, and a dressing. The leaves look fresh, sweet. I keep my eyes on the dishes as I place a bowl before the king.
“Should we not speak in private, Your Magnificence?” the advisor is saying. “The gifted faerie…”
I pause, but the males do not look at me.
“She has taken the blood oath to Reign,” Maxian says.
“Of course, Your Magnificence. It’s just that, is she not still also sworn to Illusion? If asked a specific question, which oath would win out?”
The king scratches his chin. “Interesting. I suppose the oaths would yank her in opposite directions and eventually destroy the body to keep fealty to both Houses.”
My mouth dries. Hector grunts, picking up his fork. Shaking, I return to the side of the room where Lila waits.
“At the coronation, Dominik was out of control,” Hector says between bites.
“It was a disgrace and an embarrassment.”
The entire room shivers and several volumes of books plummet to the ground. A dark cloud appears and the executioner steps out of it. He opens his hands as a vase falls from a top shelf, catching it in his gloves.
“I felt a disturbance in the plane.”
“Everything’s okay, Executioner,” the king says, his eyes trained on his advisor across the table. “My temper. You may return to your post.”
The executioner floats the vase up to the shelf again on a shadow. Then he’s gone. Maxian lets out a breath, picking up his fork. The two men eat in silence for a moment. Finally, Hector speaks.
“I see your magic is still maturing.”
“It has shown no signs of slowing down,” the king mutters.
My pulse picks up. It took three decades for my magic to fully mature along with my body. Now that I am in my late two hundreds, my magic only grows in precision, not power. The king must be in his early to mid three hundreds, and his is still maturing?
“They named you the Mountain for a reason,” Hector adds. “The Mountain will keep Dominik in line.”
“I think we’ll switch to wine now, Lila.”
“Of course, Your Magnificence.” Lila turns to me, lowering her voice. “Are you okay to serve while I gather the main course?” I nod, and she slips out.
Reaching for the bottle of wine—a dry white from the southern city of Fraulus—I listen as the king speaks again.
“What did Eli say of the dagger?”
“It’s real. It’s made of natural diamonds, and we traced it to her.”
“How? How is that possible?”
I wipe a cloth against the sweating wine, bringing it to the table.
“She must have distant Reign blood. An ancestor several generations back,” Hector says.
“Would it impact the health of future children?”
The males share a look. Hector sighs. “You should’ve married before ascending the throne. I felt the instability in the air at the coronation, and we’re lucky that faerie died to be the main talk among the nobles.”
The wine wobbles in my grasp, and it takes everything in me to remain upright. I leash my emotions before they spool out onto the plane and ruin the meal.
“My betrothed died, if you recall,” the king says tightly.
“You were both eight. It was a tragedy, but it is also history.”
The servants’ door swings open. Lila enters, carrying two heaping, steaming bowls of stew that smell of rabbit, carrots, and onions.
“Have you heard the nursery rhyme about Daisy?” the king asks.
Daisy. The name strikes me.
A memory bubbles up from the depths of my mind, Jeremee and I and other faerie children grasping sweaty hands, running around in a circle in the common room, chanting the familiar rhyme: Daisy, Daisy—in the springtime you grow, in the summer you glow.
Daisy, Daisy—winter is here, beware the snow!
Daisy, Daisy—why did you go? Poor, poor Daisy—don’t you know flowers freeze in the snow?
Daisy was a real fae child who had died. A deep horror washes over me.
“I’m seeing Lady Kassandra again soon,” the king says. “It would be the first royal marriage in a millennium that isn’t between two Reign fae. It is not a decision I take lightly.”
“If you fear the dilution of Reign blood, you could always wed Rose Tunes.”
“We are second cousins. Again, would that not risk the health of a child more?”
“Your parents were first cousins, and they created the most powerful fae in our history.”
Another pause.
“You have no heir, Your Magnificence, no wife to give you a legitimate one, but you know it’s not just about legacy.
” Hector drops his spoon in the bowl, splattering the cloth.
“When you graduated to your father’s spot on the Council of Keepers, you left your heir seat empty.
There is no pregnant Heart to fill in, either.
Illusion and Death still have all three votes, while we only have two. ”
“Healing has just a head and an advisor like us, and when the old Lynx of the Lowlands finally dies, then Illusion will also only have two votes. No House has an heir seat anyhow, except for Death. That is why I did not wed before. It’s time to see what the other Houses are willing to give to breed their blood into the royal line. ”
The Council of Keepers…is real. I’ve only heard the rumors that one may exist, a voting body between all four Houses, but when and how and where it’s held, no one but the Keepers knows. Not even the Hearts.
“There are worse brothers-in-law than your oldest friend,” Hector is saying.
Dominik. The hairs on the back of my neck rise.
“What I find odd, Uncle, is that you do not promote a union between your two bloodlines. What is your hesitation with a Healing wife?”
“You already have their loyalty, and I can influence their vote. They are traditional and immovable in their morals.”
“So you agree. Dominik is an uninhibited heir, and may be a worse head,” Maxian says, then waves.
“More wine.” I approach, legs shaky, and pour for the king as he continues.
“Illusion is having a moment of prosperity and ambition, much to his influence. But bringing him within arm’s reach of the royal Reign family may only encourage the sharpening of his claws. ”
“But don’t you see,” Hector says. “Drawing the wolf closer means its hide is within range of your whip.”
“Who would fill his place if anything were to happen?”
“Who cares? It’s time to see if Illusion is more than just smoke and silver.”
I retreat, returning the wine to its ice bucket and joining Lila against the wall with my shaking hands clenched behind my back.
Silence, for a moment. Then Maxian says, “I will marry soon. Secure an heir for the future of Amyria and the Reign fae.”
“When?”
“Before excitement sours to unrest.”
My blood roars in my ears, and I press my lips together. Realization dawns like a swift stomach illness.
Jeremee had been right.
The Houses are shifting, and every faerie should fear it.
Hector wipes his mouth, tossing his napkin down. “Stew was pleasant. The rabbit was very tender.” The advisor laughs. “I could not taste the fear this time.”
The king smiles. “We improved the cages.”
For the rest of the evening, the fae finish plate after plate, their appetite unending, leaving no scraps behind to steal.