Page 12 of Crowned By the Fae King

Freak out when you get there, I told myself sternly. Don't borrow trouble.

I set my eyes on the glowing lights of the palace, and started running.

Archangels

Ihad to slow down once I hit the city. It was maybe four in the morning, and a mud-splattered, sweaty woman in ragged clothing running at full-tilt through the city roads would have raised eyebrows. Given that anyone beelining it through the city would also set off alarms, I didn't even go up to the city gates, veering into the woods a couple miles to the north and swinging back west onto the main road.

There were more people than I expected along the road, including in full-on encampments—not the kind you see under city overpasses, but like something out of a big music festival. There were some people who looked like straight-up cultists, wearing robes and waving feathers around while chanting, and a bunch more who looked like medieval peasants getting ready for a party.

Entrepreneurs hawked wares along the road. I bought food at three separate food stalls that were already open, despite it still being at least an hour before sunrise. One even had coffee, which I welcomed like the elixir of the gods. The press of people thinned, though, before I made it all the way up to the gates of the palace, and then vanished. The empty road in the dark of night seemed more forbidding than even the deepest forest.

Gnawing on my last muffin, I started slowing, a sense of dread settling onto my shoulders. I couldn't tell whether it was mine or Cass'. Maybe it was both.

The forest opened again before I reached the palace, and not in a natural way. This land had been kept clear for what had to be millennia, and it was obviously groomed, in the way of city parks and grassy spaces around reservoirs. It gave the men standing guard at the foregates of the drawbridge plenty of time to see me coming.

"State your business, traveler," one of the four said in a bored tone, as world-weary as any cashier repeating their company's script for the umpteenth time that day.

I took a deep breath. "I'm here to see the King. Xarcassah Marys."

His companion snorted, but didn't move, blocking the way to the drawbridge with his body and spear.

"Commoners are welcomed into the Clement Palace for open court on the dextral and sinistral days of the lunam, save for when those days fall outside of risva or on other celebrations," he said, still in that droning voice. "The palace is barred to outsiders for the next six days in celebration of the glorious ascension of His Splendor, Xarcassah Marys—"

I held up my hand, peeved. "Look, I have no fucking clue what any of that means." I glared at him, trying not to let the irritation of having been awake for the past four-plus days make me do something stupid. "I've come a really fucking long way, and I really need to see him."

He rolled his eyes. "Miss, half the Court's come a really fucking long way," he said, some heat coming into his voice. "You're no exception. The King, in his graciousness, has provided food and shelter at four sites towards Taeskana—"

"For fuck's sake!" I threw up my hands. "Just let me through! What do you want? Money? I have money. How much do you want?"

My sense of the Court – of Cass – itched under my skin. I snapped my head up towards the sky, as if he'd be flying overhead, and jerked my eyes back down before I could look like even more of a crazy person.

"Look, lady," the second guard said. He was mortal, too, and he looked even more annoyed than his partner. "This isn't a negotiation. You're not allowed into the palace. Everyone who's invited is inside already, and you crazy pilgrims don't get to waltz in just because you're filthier and more obsessed than everyone else."

He thought I was one of the fucking cultists.

A pale flicker caught my eye. Some people in white started walking towards us from the other end of the drawbridge, going past the guards without pausing.

Shit, they were absolutely going to throw me out.

The urge to do something about them curled under my skin, a deadly promise of death and rot. I shoved it way, way down, desperate to keep from slaughtering people at the King's doorstep.

"I really, really have to see him," I insisted, my voice going too shrill. "If you could just let me through. I promise I'm not a pilgrim, or a cultist, or whatever. He's the only person who can help. The Court—"

"You're just in time," a lilting female voice said, bright with humor.

I darted my gaze towards her, shocked. At first glance, she looked like something out of a religious pamphlet, all white and gold and lovely, as did the man next to her—until it sunk in that she had sharp gold horns jutting through her dark hair, and he had clawed wings, tattoos, and the sort of smoldering eyes and smirk that scream "bad boy." If they were a painting, they were one made by someone who had something to say about devils and angels.

Her full mouth curved up into a wicked smile. "Let her through," she said, holding my gaze with the satisfaction of a cat. "His Majesty will want to see his soulmate."

I stared at her. So did the guard.

She raised one brow. "Well?"

"Ah, yes, Archangel," the man stammered out. He jumped to the side, jerking himself up into some semblance of attention. "Your… majesty. Welcome to the Clement Palace."

The woman flashed him a brilliant smile. "Lovely," she said, and glanced up at her companion, who looked bemused more than delighted. "You think you can find Cass?"

"You really think…?" he murmured. At her impish nod, he laughed and shook out his wings. "Well, alright. I'll see if I can hunt him down." He didn't waste time with niceties. He simply took a running start and jumped off the edge of the drawbridge, his wings catching the air with a snap! and sending a cold breeze across us.

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