21. Keira
I walk through the palace corridors with purpose, a single target in mind. My heart hammers painfully in anticipation of what I must do and my mind whirls with all the ways it could go wrong.
I wish I could approach this danger in stout armor.
Instead, I’ve been forced into a flimsy, mostly transparent gown.
Torin erupts from his chambers at the same time every morning, almost missing his command briefing with the palace guards.Right on cue, he stumbles out now, looking groggy and hungover. He probably spent most of the night drinking, pillaging and murdering with his Truth Templars.
I walk straight past him, slamming into his shoulder as he steps into my path. “Rough night, Torin? You look like shit,” I toss over my shoulder without bothering to glance back at him.
He grabs my wrist and pulls me toward him. I allow it, pretending to trip over my own feet.
“What did you just say to me?” His lips twist in a sneer.
“I’ve been wondering: what exactly is your role here in the palace, other than being a mommy’s boy?
” I take a strand of his long hair and curl it around my finger, getting close to his face so he knows his usual intimidation tactic of sexual violence is useless.
“You’re not a senator, or the Captain of the Guard.
You’re not the Commander of the Armies or official second to the High Chancellor.
Everyone knows dear Mommy listens to Florian and not you.
Do you even have a voice here? Does anyone listen when you have an opinion? ”
Torin rears back as if slapped. My words clearly trigger something deep within him.
His arm flies out and I brace for the impact of a punch.
I even craft cushions of air around myself to deflect the blow.
He has too little magic to detect others’ wields.
But instead, he wraps his big hand in my hair and drags me off my feet by it.
Pain explodes across my skull and tears spring to my eyes as I try to scramble along with him.
Fuck, Keira. Kill him now. We can find some other asshole to manipulate, Aldrin growls in my head. I will gladly do it myself.
My power of decomposition stirs within my gut, wanting to break free. I slap his grasp away from me.
Trust. Me, I gasp through the sting.
Within a flash, Torin holds me over the top of a stone staircase, my body at such an angle that he is the only thing keeping me from tumbling down it. My magic snaps out, creating a web of air below me, ready to catch my body if he lets go.
Torin spews venom. “One more defiant word from you, and I will toss your fragile human body down these stairs. I wonder if you would look so pretty in this slutty gown with your neck broken.”
“Does this make you feel like a big, strong fae man? Overpowering a defenseless woman?” I look at him with mock pity. “I bet these moments are rare for you, considering you have no magic. You’re usually the weakling in a crowd, aren’t you?”
“I FUCKING HAVE MA—” He stops as his bright blue eyes narrow on me.
“What game are you playing?” He shakes me over the void for emphasis.
“Actually, I don’t care. Know one thing: I will break you, Queen of Nothing.
You are the one who is voiceless and powerless here.
I will grind you down to a quivering mess, because I am sick of your constant rebellions against myself and my mother.
Perhaps if I kill you now, I can save us both a bit of inconvenience.
She will find another toy; she always does.
I heard you have two very pretty sisters. ”
Torin uses cruelty to gain power over people. I wonder if that dynamic is all he has been shown by his mother.
A red flush creeps up his neck and the pinched planes of his face tell me he is seriously considering dropping me.
His fingers around my arm loosen, letting me slip backward a span as they slide to my elbow, setting me at an even more precarious position.
Cold sweat breaks out across my body and my eyes widen.
He is going to force me to reveal myself.
I will have to kill him if I do. It would be a waste of an easily manipulable resource.
Satisfaction blooms across his features. He believes I fear for my life. He lets me slip even further before catching my arm a second time, a morbid fascination in his icy blue eyes.
Then he releases his grip on me completely.
As I begin to fall backward, time seems to slow to a stop.
I harden the air all around me for a fraction of a second.
Long enough to hold me up while I grab him by the collar.
Then I use that wield to turn our bodies, knocking him off the top step.
I give him a hard shove over the void, to send him plummeting down the staircase.
That wall of hardened air pushes me securely back to the top level and I grip the railing, panting.
In this moment, I don’t care if he realizes I used magic, or if he thinks it was some feat of acrobatics. He is too busy falling, cartwheeling his arms through empty space, to truly register my actions.
Something within me snaps.
Perhaps the dam on the boiling rage I keep buried deep.
Or it could be my sanity.
I am so sick of petty bullies tormenting, maiming and killing those they perceive as weaker than themselves for their own kicks. Of their needless cruelty for the sake of a power grab. I am so fucking tired of it all.
The old version of myself would have felt sorry for this man because of his childhood abuse and trauma, but he is an adult now, and he chooses to do far worse things to other vulnerable people.
All of this races through my mind as, with an agitated wave of my hand, I disperse the network of air wields crisscrossing the staircase that was meant to save my neck if he got the upper hand and tossed me down it.
In truth, I shouldn’t have needed to put them there in the first place.
I let him fall.
Part of me relishes the ironic justice of it. Torin slams down the stone steps in the same way he envisioned for me, his body bouncing off the hard edges. Almost all fae have air magic, being universal to every court, but he uses none to save himself.
Only numbness fills me as he rolls to a stop at the bottom, landing in a crumpled heap.
Did I take it too far? I whisper across my bond to Aldrin.
Not far enough, he says darkly.
Torin groans as he pulls himself up onto all fours, cracking a bent finger back into place. His long hair drapes over his face. His lip is badly split and blood trickles from it. When his eyes fly to me, murder flashes within them.
A human wouldn’t be able to stand after a fall like that.
They would likely be dead. Torin pulls himself to his feet and charges up the stairs.
There must be a significant amount of fae within him to be so durable, despite all the human blood, evident in the deep cut across his eyebrow that closes before he reaches me.
I take multiple steps back, my heart beating frantically as my flight instinct takes over. I remind myself that I am still in control here. I know exactly what I need from him.
“YOU!” he roars, grabbing me by the arm and shaking me violently, making my head whip back and forth. “You pushed me down those stairs! I’m going to toss you out a window, so everyone can see your broken body on the pavers.” He drags me toward the closest opening, his arms shaking with his rage.
I swear to the gods, if he brings you anywhere near that window, I am going to remove his head from his shoulders, Aldrin spits.
Not helping, Aldrin, I send back.
“Don’t you need to ask Mommy for permission?” I purr at Torin. “It would be a horrible inconvenience for her to have to replace me.”
Torin pauses, the red flush spreading further across his face. His eyes turn glassy as he thinks, and his fingers dig even deeper into my flesh.
I lean in toward him. “If I die at your hand, my supporters will rise up in the streets. Any who are still loyal to Aldrin will use it as a cue to riot against you.”
“What supporters? You have none!” he snarls.
“Then your enemies will use it as an excuse. I will become the figurehead they rally behind. A martyr in my death. Why do you think your dear mommy hasn’t put me in a dungeon? Why does she expend so much effort on damaging my image, if I don’t have influence here?”
“A quick death is too good for you. I will bring you before the High Chancellor so she can arrange for you to be dumped in the dungeon. Regular torture sessions will be the only thing to break up your days.” His lips curl downward.
“Don’t worry. We can get a healer to close up the wounds so you look as good as new whenever she wants to parade you around. ”
I flinch, my stomach bottoming out.
This time it is not an act.
Torin is doing exactly what I need him to do. I must speak with Titania, and she would be suspicious if I tried to arrange a meeting. But there is a chance he could have enough power to follow through with his threats. By the gods, I hope my judgment is right.
I will tear down the palace brick by brick if they dare try to torture you, Aldrin promises.
I don’t care if every fae in this court turns against me for doing it before I can win them over from Titania.
You may be a fierce, independent woman, but I have my limits on what I will allow you to endure.
Torin grabs me and shakes me when I hardly react.The motion makes one of his already askew golden wire ear caps fall off and become tangled in his hair. I gasp at what it reveals.
I always assumed he wore the caps to give rounded ears the illusion of peaked fae tips, but instead, there is mangled flesh beneath.
The top half has been cut off completely, and the flesh around it is covered in puckered white scar tissue, like the cut was made with a blunt knife.
The wound is old. Even Aldrin’s ear grew back after being blown off by musket fire.
Only a child wouldn’t recover from this.