Page 19 of Crowned By the Fae King

We had enough time to have an awkward silence before a fae man came up the stairs, followed by four humans. They were all strong-looking, and of mixed races and ages, each holding onto a handle attached to one corner of a heavy box. They were dressed well, but plainly, in the sort of clothing servants in movies about famous royal families wear. The simple colors and clean tailoring made them fade into the background, even on this barren spear of stone.

The effect was enhanced by the fae in front, whose own outfit of heavily-embroidered green silk would have been at home in a museum. He wore a narrow circlet of beaten silver and matching cuffs that covered the points of his ears, and fancy finger-jewelry with long silver claws. His left hand gripped the handle of a cane in the shape of a striking snake, the inside of the mouth enameled red and the eyes inset with glittering emeralds.

The wind yanked at his dark brown hair, tugging curling tendrils out from his pinned-up hair. He didn't seem to notice or care, even when they swept across his face and caught on his lips.

He walked up to the base of the natural stage with the smooth tension of someone moving through pain they'd long since learned to ignore, and knelt on the stone, putting his weight on the cane. "Your majesties, I present myself, Aeskanai Vaylir, the Sagebrush Duke, and I present to you a token of my fealty," he said, without a flicker of surprise at there being two of us.

Maybe the rumor mill had run at lightning speed. Or maybe he just had one hell of a poker face.

The four men carried the wooden box up and set it down next to the duke. They backed up in synchrony, keeping their eyes on the dirt, and took kneeling positions behind their lord.

Ace – because "Aeskanai Vaylir" was a bit much for my personal thoughts – reached over and opened the lid of the box, revealing a lumpy hunk of grayish metal. "Star-iron," he said. "If His Majesty wishes, there is time to have a star-sword made before the Silver Coronation." The duke's eyes flickered over to me, his hazel eyes catching the light for a moment to turn almost honey-gold. "Or perhaps a pair of daggers, or crowns."

Yet another fucking thing I didn't know about. That was getting really old.

"We accept your token of fealty, your grace," Cass said in a level tone. Even though he didn't sound unhappy, I could feel it in the tension of his jaw and set of his spine. My soulmate apparently did not like being the center of attention. "You may go, with our appreciation."

The duke gave us a deep nod and rose to his feet. He gripped the cane so hard that his knuckles went white, and his tense jaw and pinned ears told me that he had to be in agony. The moment I focused on Ace, I could feel it, too, the way the muscles of his right leg pulled against scar tissue and wrenched painfully from having to hold his weight.

"Psst," I said to Cass, as Ace turned to walk away, his limp more noticeable now that he'd been on his knees.

His dark eyes flicked over to me. He raised one brow, a softer breeze flirting with the dangling strands of his hair.

I jerked my head at the retreating duke as his four mortal servants closed and picked up the box of meteorite iron, hauling it off to the side so it could be observed by the other people who came to give us gifts. "He's hurting," I whispered. "There's a zillion stairs. You can fix that, right?"

Cass' brows pulled together. "The stairs?" he asked softly, sounding baffled.

"No, dumbass," I hissed back. "The pain."

He blinked, ears dropping in surprise, then turned forward. "Your grace," he called, as Ace turned to descend the stairs again.

The duke's spine went stiff. He turned back towards us, his expression stern. "Yes, your majesty?"

Cass licked his lips. "May I have your permission to ease your pain while you're on the palace grounds?" he asked, sounding uncomfortable.

Dark brows pulled together. "May I ask why, your majesty?"

"Because my soulmate requested it of me," Cass said, looking sidelong at me. "I offer not as a favor, gift, or insult, but to please her."

Ace relaxed, and I realized why Cass hadn't offered before. They were fae. Gifts and kindness weren't part of their lexicon. Everything had to be a bargain. If Ace had come to Cass as a healer, it probably would have been different, but in this context…?

His eyes turned towards me, and he offered a slight smile. "If I might also ask why you desire such a thing, your majesty?" he asked.

The more time he spends here, the better he looks to the people waiting, I thought, keeping the smirk off my face. Aloud, I said, "I understand the symbolism of making people walk all the way up here, but there's no reason to punish you on the way down. My grandmother would hit me with her cane for being so rude to an honored guest."

The corner of his mouth lifted higher. "If it pleases the Queen to treat me as an honored guest instead of a tolerated enemy, I'm pleased to accept." He put his right hand over his heart and bowed, putting weight on his snakehead cane.

I could see the moment Cass intervened. Ace let out a tiny gasp, his eyes going unfocused, then lifted his gaze to his King's with momentary shock. All the tension dropped out of him, and he wobbled as he stood again, his political mask in tatters.

The duke pulled it together, his polite expression returning before he bowed again and turned to descend the staircase. His four men darted looks in our direction, but performed their own bows and followed him.

Danica leaned towards me. "The dukes are each the last remnant of a fallen royal line," she murmured as the next one came into view. "Mercy's an empire. They don't have a lot of reason to like the Monarchs."

That explained the evil crowns.

The next man knelt, a lean, deadly-looking fae with a pale scar on his left cheek and storm-gray hair cut short. One curl fell down across his forehead, Superman-style, and a series of silver chains hung in arcs from his constantly-shifting ears. "Your majesties, I present myself, Kettekh Alair, the Misted Duke, and I present to you a token of my fealty," he said in a strong voice, like an orator.

Oh, no, I realized with dawning horror. It's going to be the exact same thing for hours.

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