Page 117 of Crowned By the Fae King

"Well," I said, my expression warm, "I'm still that, too."

"Good," he said. He draped his arm across his abs and let his head fall to the side, his affection buoying me.

His smile was like basking in the sun.

War Games

The morning of the battle dawned cold and clear. We'd chosen to set it on the first day of the Calanid meteor shower, for the martial connotations, and because it also happened to fall on one of the feast days. I didn't feel any different, even knowing that there were occasional meteors streaking invisibly through the daytime sky, but Cass seemed invigorated, and kept looking up—though that might have been because he was eager to fly. The second we were released from our morning duties, Cass was in the sky, voicing a wild hawk-sound that sent shivers down my spine.

I left him to it, and portaled down to Taeskana to get ready for the big event.

Though we'd originally conceived of the battle as Cass versus an opposing force, it seemed like every glamor-mage in the Court wanted to be a part of things. Some of that was probably due to the chance to work with Pelleas, but I thought a lot of it was simply for the sheer fun of doing something this outrageous. We ended up with enough people that we'd put together an interesting conflict: two units of foot soldiers, one of archers, and one of light cavalry for the "enemy" side led by the Misted Duke, and a single unit of mixed infantry aligned with Cass defending a hilltop.

There weren't two identical hills available, of course, but we'd found two with slopes that matched well enough, and within sight of each other. The snowy plain would be churned mud at the end of this, but everyone seemed in high spirits. It seemed like all of Mercy had turned out for the spectacle: the risers that had been built over the course of the past weeks were packed, and there were plenty of people milling about behind the strung banners demarcating the safe zones. Peddlers hawked wares and the scent of hot food drifted about.

I checked in with the glamor squad as the armies got into place, climbing up several flights of stairs to their viewpoint. Cass was still circling overhead. Light flashed across the snowy expanse every time he turned.

"Ready for action, your highness?" I asked Pelleas.

He breathed a laugh, the cold air clouding for a moment. "It's been a long time since I've gotten to do something on this scale. I'm looking forward to it, though it unfortunately marks what should be the end of my stay under your gracious hospitality."

I raised my brow at him.

Pelleas gave a languorous shrug and lounged against the railing, his eyes skimming across the gathering army on the plain. "My father is ancient, and even an absence of this length is unlikely to trouble him, but I don't trust your goddess in my Court. As little as I like having her hungry eyes on me, I like not knowing what she's doing even less."

That made me frown. Pelleas wasn't exactly close-mouthed most of the time, but he didn't strike me as the sort of person to venture personal comments like that, especially ones laden with information someone like me might want to hear. I leaned on the railing next to him, looking up into his face. "She's not my goddess."

The wind flirted with his violet hair, but he didn't look down at me. "I suppose you made that vividly clear," he said in a level voice. "Nevertheless, she surely still views you as her property, wayward though you may be. Gods may let time slip by for centuries and millennia at a time, but woe betide those who catch their fixed attention." Pelleas sighed through his nose and flicked his ear in a dismissive gesture. "For your sake, I hope your soulmate is even half the warrior the songs paint him to be."

My frown deepened. "For my sake?"

One corner of his mouth tugged up. He glanced sidelong at me, wearing a knowing expression. "I like you, your majesty, and I like Yllana. I've greatly enjoyed the opportunity to spend time with someone who shares my passions. I'd rather not see you or your princess lost to this world. Your soulmate…" Pelleas shrugged again. "I have little in common with him, but you have bite, and you know how to wield beauty. Though it does seem like you're avoiding your princesses and your dukes, both. Am I truly such good company?"

"Fishing for compliments, your highness?" I asked, smirking up at him.

He flashed me a smile. "Enjoying my freedom to do so while it lasts." A bugle sounded, high and clear. "That's our mark," Pelleas said. "If you'll be so kind as to vacate the overlook, your majesty, we have some spells to cast."

I put my hand over my heart and gave him the proper bow. "Have fun."

It took a bit to get into place, but, luckily, it took a bit to get the spells up, too. Armies, battlements, traps… even the placement of environmental hazards, all done by a series of glamor-mages on tall platforms that looked a bit like air traffic control towers. By the time I got to my own viewpoint, joining Tarra, Yllana, Ace, and Talien, there were two sets of everything, one on either side of the central seating.

It was a bit eerie, actually; my land-sense told me who was real, but my eyes couldn't tell the difference. To the east waited Cass and his forces, facing glamored foes. To the west, Tech led his army, facing up the hill at a glamored encampment with a glamor-copy of Cass circling overhead. The contrast left me feeling off-kilter, like the world was slanting.

I was supposed to ring the gong to start the match, but Tarra looked so eager that I passed her the mallet with a smile. "It was your idea. You do the honors, princess," I told her.

She practically squealed with glee, and slammed the mallet into the gong with the exuberance of a middle schooler going at a pinata.

All along the central set of seats, and across the battlefield in the framing risers, answering gongs rang, until the air was full of the battle-song. The armies – the real one and the copy – surged into motion at the same time, moving into a pincer formation, closing ground with the defending force. Arrows sang up into the sky, arching up in a deadly black rainbow before whistling down to strike the opposing army.

The real enemy still circled high overhead. I knew battle-trained healers fought with wooden staves to extend their reach; Vaduin had said that, making fun of the dukes for presenting Cass with swords. Cass was empty-handed, though. He didn't need reach. He was Mercy—all of it. If he'd wanted to, he could have tapped into the power of the Court and slaughtered everyone in it.

A battle that lasted ten seconds wasn't any fun, so we'd handicapped our King. The rules of the game were simple: One hit kill. If Cass hit any of the glamor-copies anywhere that wasn't protected with iron, the glamor-copy went down and the green wristbands on the corresponding soldier turned red to let them know to exit the field. Anything else, though? Injury only, transferred from the glamor-copy to the soldier in question via a sharp zap, courtesy of a network of healers linked with Pelleas.

Cass dropped from the sky, and the battle truly began.

He hit the front lines like a battering ram. Wings that cut through metal like paper turned him into a blade going fifty miles an hour. He cut through the soldiers like a butcher's knife through meat, tearing a hole in the lines before tucking into a tumbling roll. Hitting the ground at speed did nothing to Cass. He was on his feet in a second, and flung himself back for the sky, clawing for altitude.

Arrows lanced for him. Cass flipped into a barrel roll, deflecting arrows with his wings. One struck him—I felt it like someone elbowing me in the side. He just yanked it out like it was nothing, the pain vanishing in an instant, and whooped with feral delight.

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