9. Keira
W e enter the City of Vertical Gardens through the same wide promenade of the capital’s main entrance as the first time I visited at Aldrin’s side.
The long, broad bridge spans across the granite roots of the city, the drop below stretching into mist. The rocky foundations of the buildings are as tall as mountains.
Streams cascade through shallow channels on each side of the overpass, hundreds of thin waterfalls falling over the edge into the valley below.
My heart stutters when I glance up at the colossal statues of the kings and queens of old that peer across the bridge at each other, especially when my gaze lands on the larger-than-life likeness of Aldrin.
His beautiful face etched in stone is almost painful to look upon.
I crave him like a drowning woman craves air.
I ache to curl up against that broad, muscular chest while he wraps his arms around me and makes me feel safe once again.
I jump as our procession is announced by trumpets and heralds bellowing, summoning fae to the streets. Titania’s litter leads us. She has the curtains pulled open and waves to the gathering people, like she has any right to my mate’s throne. To my throne.
On my last visit, we explored the many meandering side streets of the City of Vertical Gardens, flanked by lazy streams, dotted with lily pads.
Those were quiet and beautiful in comparison, leading across bridges and up flights of stairs to platforms full of miniature forests, restaurants, shops, bars or apartments.
Now, we take a main highway to the palace, flanked by high-rises and completely filled by waiting crowds.
I am their exhibition; the queen to be torn down and humbled.
Rainier catches my eye. His lips move, but I don’t hear his words until his air wield sends them my way, his voice curling around my ears alone. “Remember our little talk.”
That is all he says before turning away.
How could I forget?
Glamour is a great strength of mine. I have been using it my entire life to hide my fae identity from even myself.
I mask the filth covering my hair and skin, making it appear clean and vibrant to all.
I cast out the image of a pristine white dress flowing from my body in elegant cascades.
Everything I do is to present the image of a caged queen, rather than a helpless human who has been abused for days.
I split my glamour, so the cruel fae of Titania’s procession perceive me the way I truly look, and the crowd sees me as regal as possible.
A smile curls my lips as I work on the curtains of Titania’s litter, decaying them with my Autumn earth magic until the ends are in ripped tatters and grime smears up them.
Keira, Aldrin groans. As much as I love the pettiness, it’s not worth the risk of discovery.
Titania stands on her litter, arms spread wide, as we reach the masses.
“I bring you a prize in chains! A seductress who stole your king from you. Look upon Aldrin’s human mate!
” she bellows, her words amplified by someone else’s air wield so the entire crowd can hear her.
“Where has Aldrin been while his people suffer? I bet that is the question you all ask,” she says, like she wasn’t the one who banished him.
“He fought a war in the human realm for this pathetic little girl. Aldrin died in a muddy ditch in a forbidden realm, because he turned his back on his entire court for her! He placed magicless humans above his own kind! Inferior creatures who should be far beneath fae notice.”
I try not to jolt as the first missile is thrown at me and the sickly-sweet juices splatter to the floor at my feet. My entire cage rocks as the litter-bearers who share in my punishment react. More fruit is thrown at me, paired with jeers, but I am far too used to such treatment now.
Titania repeats her speech to a new audience each time we move deeper into the city. The loathing for humans she pours into it increases each time.
Look around, Keira, Aldrin orders, the promise of death in his voice. Let me mark their faces. When I come for you, I am going to fucking kill every one of them who tries to harm you. I don’t care if they are my own citizens. Shivers run down my spine at those words.
I examine the fae in the front row of the crowd, spittle flying from their mouths as they yell at me.
The rancid fruit they handle is smeared on their clothes as well.
Many carry baskets of it, handing it out to the people.
They elbow and shove each other to get to the front and gain the best leering look at me.
Fucking pathetic.
Rage flares within me at their hatred that is so thick for humans. These people abuse me when they know nothing about who I am. To them, I am weak and vulnerable, and that is enough to make them superior in their eyes.
It isn’t until my gaze passes that hostile front line that I realize something profoundly important: Titania’s aggressive supporters are in the minority.
Perhaps three times their number slink behind them, pale-faced, shaking their heads and muttering angrily as they point at the High Chancellor.
Some argue with those throwing fruits at me, and others physically restrain them, pulling them back through the crowd in a brawl.
Titania does not have the full support of the capital.
An absolutely devious idea forms in my mind. Her supporters hate having a human as a queen? Well, I can show them that I belong to both races: fae and human.
It is a risk I must take if I am to gain support and whittle down hers.
I build up another layer of glamour and expose parts of my primal form.
My red hair burns with golden light, and I set the tiniest flames licking up and down it.
I create fire orbs that blaze like rubies in a circlet around my forehead, showing them the crown of their queen.
Then I remove the instinctual mask upon my ears, so the pointed tips of their true form are visible.
All of this magic remains invisible to the crowd around me, until I manipulate it so my show is only perceptible by the civilians in the street and not Titania or her guard.
Then, I make the glamour flicker in and out.
There are gasps from within the crowd and a deep satisfaction soars within me. To them it would appear as though the glamour of a human facade was forced upon me, and that glimpses of my true fae form penetrate through.
Many of those hostile fae fall silent, shock making their jaws slack and stilling hands ready to throw more fruit.
The pause is only momentary, but the quieting of their roars is enough for me to hear murmurs of the neutral majority beneath them. I send out discreet air wields, collecting all those voices. Exposing my powers is a risk, but one I must take.
“The true king’s mate!”
“No one should be caged like that. Least of all our queen!”
“Let her go!”
“Titania needs to be stopped! This display is disgusting.”
Their words reach me on a primal level, and all of a sudden, I tire of tolerating Titania’s abuses for future gain.
Of playing the game five moves ahead, when the wrath boiling in my blood screams for gratification now.
I am so sick of making myself small so powerful people don’t feel threatened and unleash a tantrum that hurts many. I am done with being powerless.
Titania notices the shift in the mood of the crowd.
“Do not feel sympathy for this seductress! She and her mate would single-handedly tear this court apart. Have we forgotten that Aldrin wants to force high fae back to the primitive wilds and destroy your hard-earned businesses? Only I support commerce and growth! Have we forgotten he would flood this city with humans, filthy humans , to steal your jobs and spouses with how fast they breed? Before we know it, this would be a court of humans if Aldrin had his way!”
My blood boils at the hate she spews toward minorities and the irrational fears she fans without a care for the consequences, so long as she remains in power.
I use an air wield to pick up a smashed piece of fruit from the ground and toss it straight at her.
The rotten flesh splatters across her face.
Her black lips part in shock. I grab more and more pieces of fruit, flicking them at Titania, at Torin and their personal guard.
I go out of my way to smack Florian right in the forehead with something hard and apple-like.
Satisfaction fills me as it explodes into pulpy chunks across his cheeks.
As they look around for the source of the attack, unable to perceive the thin threads of my tiny wields among the confusion.
I see red.
I want them to feel the rage and humiliation their victims have endured.
To understand what it is like to be hated by so many strangers.
The crowd roars and joins in. More missiles are thrown my way, but I don’t care. Not when just as many hit the High Chancellor. Titania loses her mind, roaring orders at her soldiers. Her arms fly around her, those long nails manicured into points flicking about.
Her guards pull short clubs from their belts, which grow into long, thick, knobby weapons under their earth magic, then they converge on the crowd.
Horror washes through me as they beat bystanders indiscriminately, not caring who dared to humiliate the High Chancellor with a bit of fruit.
Bile rises in my throat as some fall to the ground under the vicious attack, trampled by the boots of those trying to flee. Others fight back.
Titania’s Wildrose Guard are more violent than necessary to repel the mild rebellion. Noses break. Teeth fly from mouths and blood sprays under their strikes. They are not interested in pushing back the people or de-escalating the situation. They only want to inflict pain.