Chapter Five
Alaya
I’m still in shock about what happened in the Throne Room later that evening as I make my way through the dark halls of the castle towards King Malaxor’s personal office. With each step I can feel my panic rising, a vice-like crush of anxiety squeezing my lungs, making it hard to breathe.
As I reach the ominous wooden door, intricately carved with thorns and roses, I take a minute to compose myself. I’m not sure what he wants with me, but I know I must stay calm.
I knock, and a muffled voice grants me permission to enter.
The room is all dark wood and the smell of musty books that line the wall at one end. A narrow window lets in limited moonlight, and a small Faelight lamp is the only other light source—shadows creeping where the light doesn’t touch.
King Malaxor sits behind a large, solid-looking desk, a few papers spread on the surface. He is quietly studying me as I enter. He motions to the chair across from him, and I sit as instructed.
“I thought it was about time we had a more formal chat about your future here at the castle,” he says, relaxing back into his chair. His gaze is intrigued, assessing.
“My future as your son’s wife?”
“Yes, that and what it entails for you. I’m fully aware there are many that have questioned why I chose you.”
“Me included, Your Majesty.”
He lets out a small laugh at that and shifts to lean forwards, elbows resting on the desk.
“You have always interested me, your Desolate state, that is. Have you ever felt any hint of a Gift?”
I cock my head curiously at his question.
“Never. I have, as you know, been instructed by the Healing Fae to try and cultivate a Gift, but there’s nothing.”
“Nothing?”
“It’s like a void when I try to reach for it, just an emptiness in the pit of my stomach.” A feeling of uselessness sweeps me. I’ve known my whole life that I was different—empty. It doesn’t make talking about it any easier.
“The answer to why I chose you for my son is quite simple, really.” He pauses, and his eyes travel over me with deliberate slowness. “Other than your obvious, quite pleasing assets …”
He leers at me then. I feel his eyes rove over me, and goosebumps of revulsion prickle my skin. He smirks as if his gaze could strip away my flimsy dress and caress what lies beneath.
“However, more importantly, you were the simpler option for the Marriage Bond.” He leans back again, fingers steepled. “Much easier, without a Gift, to sculpt into the Princess this kingdom needs for its future.”
I must look confused as he continues.
“You know about the Goddess’ Gifts, I presume?”
“I have been taught well about our Gifts,” I reply, a little indignant. I’m not some ignorant fool.
“Good.” He waves a hand dismissively. “Then you know the Goddess bestowed her Gifts to the Earthbound Fae to keep the Kingdom alive and flourishing. Growth, Healing, Amplifier, Nourish.” He ticks them off on his fingers. “For defence, Warrior, Thorns and Shadows.”
I nod, unsure where this is leading.
“When this Kingdom was more bountiful and the Earthbound Fae numbered in the thousands, our Gifts were strong.” His expression darkens. “As The Corruption spread and our numbers dwindled, so too did our Gifts. Now, we are weaker than ever.”
He stands and moves to the window, hands clasped behind his back.
“If we are to survive, we must endure. Our Amplifier Gifts become more important than ever to enhance the weaker Gifts.” He turns back to face me. “Though my son inherited his mother’s Gift, his Amplifier is weak. Such a disappointment.”
The venom in his voice makes me flinch.
“To become the leader and King he needs to be, he needs to marry.” He returns to his desk, looming over it. “And the Marriage Bond will make him stronger.”
“The Marriage Bond makes Gifts stronger?” I ask. I’ve not heard this before.
“I suppose your mother didn’t have time to teach you all of our history or customs,” he sneers.
My chest tightens at the mention of my mother, but I force myself to remain still.
“The Marriage Bond creates a unique connection, enhancing the Gifts amongst other things. Aside from a stronger Gift, Kiernan needs a dutiful wife and a trusted confidante that supports without interfering.” He points at me across the desk. “You understand?”
“So, a loyal lapdog to look pretty on his arm but not ask questions?” I quip, temper rising.
“Careful, Princess,” he says. “I like your fire, but you must keep it under control.” He tilts his head, studying me. “He needs that too, you know. You seem to temper his strong will somewhat. Though I’m not oblivious to how he rails against this match, as I know you do too.”
He sits again, settling into his chair—rooted, immovable—searching my face for a reaction.
“A Royal marriage is not about love, my dear. It’s about mutual benefit. So, your responsibility is to be his wife, and his is to keep you alive, despite your weakness.”
“I understand my responsibilities, Your Majesty.”
Despite my 'weakness'.
The words echo in my mind, bitter and sharp. I bite my cheek until the metallic taste of blood floods my mouth.
“Splendid. Wedding plans are progressing, just continue to be the compliant little pet I know you to be, and we shall have no problems.” He picks up one of the papers on his desk, already dismissing me. “And it wouldn’t hurt to at least try to create an illusion of love while in public.”
He spits out the word ‘love’ like it’s a disease.
“You may leave. I’m sure we shall meet again before the wedding.” He glances up at me one last time. “I want to know at once if the situation with your Gift, or lack of, changes.”
He waves a dismissive hand towards the door.
I rise and leave. As the door shuts behind me, I let out a long breath, as if I had been holding it in the whole time. That was a surreal conversation.
I walk through the darkened hallway, my mind churning. His words replay themselves over and over, but one phrase lodges itself in my thoughts like a thorn I can’t extract: ‘if the situation with your Gift, or lack of, changes.’
I was born a Desolate. Why would that change?
And yet, the way he said it—as if he expected something. As if he knew something I didn’t.
When I get back to my suite, I am feeling overwhelmed.
The scene in the Throne Room and Prince Kiernan’s words was a terrifying reminder of my tentative situation at this Court, and the conversation with King Malaxor only reminded me about the future that always seemed so far away but is now rushing towards me all too fast.
The chaos in my head demands silence. I need noise, bodies, anything to drown it out and I remember someone saying I needed to ‘let my hair down and live a little.’
I quickly change into a more comfortable clean dress, something plain, and rush towards the Western Pasture, hoping I am not too late. When the stables come in sight, I am relieved to see some lights still on.
I push open the side door, and I am immediately assaulted by the smells from within: fresh straw, the earthy tang of manure and the musky sweetness of the horses themselves. I breathe in deep, and a sense of relief instantly envelopes me.
My happy place.
I spot Heller at the end of the building, sweeping. I creep up behind him. I lean in, and as I put my hands on his broad shoulders, I shout, “Guess who!”
He spins, his look of shock quickly broadening into a huge grin.
“Alaya! What are you doing here?” he cries.
“Do I need a reason to visit?” I ask, tilting my chin down just enough to force an upward, wounded gaze, deliberately framed by my long lashes.
“Nope, just didn’t expect to see you here so late.” He laughs.
“I’ve had an awful day. I was hoping to catch you before you leave. Fancy taking me down to this tavern everyone raves about?”
He looks at me quizzically for a moment—I guess he’s trying to see if I was being serious. Then he breaks into a grin.
“Absolutely! Let me just wash up here real quick, and we can go. Are you sure about this, Alaya? It can get quite rowdy in there,” he says, searching my face for an answer.
“I’m tired of hiding in that damn castle like a caged bird. My life is about to change in so many ways—I just want to forget it for a while. Can we just pretend for tonight, Hel? Can we just be two normal Fae out for some fun?” I sigh.
“We can be whoever we want to be,” he yells, arms outstretched as he spins away and goes up to his apartment above the stables; and I smile after him, a warm feeling flooding my body.
Within ten minutes he’s back, looking a little fresher, with a clean blue-checked shirt over blue pants, and his hair dampened flat.
“So, who are we tonight? Sir Marcus, the ruggedly handsome Warrior and his beautiful damsel, Lady Evangeline? Or perhaps Zak and Penny, the carefree couple out for some fun?” Heller asks as he turns off the lights and we leave the stables.
“Oh, I like the sound of Zak and Penny.” I agree, looping my arm around his.
“So, what has you coming down to slum it with the stable hand? I’ve tried to get you to come out with me before. What’s changed?”
I explain the Throne Room incident and the weird meeting with King Malaxor. He goes quiet.
“But we are forgetting that tonight, Zak,” I say, trying to lighten the tension.
“Sure, Penny, let’s go and get you drunk.” He grabs my hand, pulling me towards the residential area.
The Golden Horse is located amongst the small stone cottages of the working Fae, along with various shops and other buildings. I start to feel a little apprehensive as it comes in sight. I have never been in this part of the castle grounds.
“Will you get into trouble for bringing me in here? You know I’m not well received by other Earthbound Fae,” I ask tentatively.
“Then we will create our own fun. If anyone gives you any trouble, they have me to deal with.”
Heller pushes his shoulder against the door and drags me into the small wooden building, the sounds of laughter and chattering and the smell of malty Ale and Fae Wine.