Page 67 of Crowned By the Fae King

My mouth tilted up. That was… huh. That was pretty romantic, wasn't it.

I tucked into my dinner with a silly smile on my face, looking at my irises. My first bite of the risotto was cold, but the second one was the perfect temperature. Steam started rising from the plate. The lettuce un-wilted.

"You like me," I murmured, my smile spreading. It wasn't like he was doing any of this magic on purpose. I didn't get the sense Cass was even paying attention to me. When I let my thoughts drift to him, I could feel him flying, wings moving in a steady pace and pleasant tension down his spine.

He banked as I listened in, cold wind rushing across him, and traced a heart on his thigh.

I laughed, shook my head, and kept eating.

Nobody showed up to acquire me for anything, so once I finished eating my meal and admiring my flower, I moseyed off to explore the palace. People bowed politely when they encountered me, but no one tried to start a conversation with me. That had to be more politeness. It was probably rude to accost a royal while they were walking around.

Long after sunset, I wandered out onto the wall of the Clement Palace, overlooking the drawbridge and the deep chasm that separated the palace from the way up. The drawbridge was up, when it hadn't even been closed for the coronation, and it wasn't hard to guess why.

We were being besieged.

The wide, grassy expanse on the edge of the forest had been turned into an encampment. Even in the darkness of the night, it was well-lit, with the eternally-glowing lambence fae favored for lighting in lanterns on poles. It looked a bit like a refugee camp, all square tents made of canvas, with more people milling about than would comfortably fit in them. Not all of them were dressed in white, but a lot were, and I saw people wearing feathers in their hair and bound to their wrists. That seemed bad.

A slender woman standing on the wall turned her head to look at me, her pale eyes flat. "Come to bask in the presence of your soulmate's adoring sycophants, your majesty?" she asked in a chilly tone.

It took me a moment to place her as the high priestess, now that she wasn't painted and dressed in willow-leaves.

That also seemed bad.

I licked my lips and walked over to her, taking a position next to her, facing the encampment. "Whatever did Paloma tell you, hierarch?" I asked, keeping my voice calm. "Neither His Majesty or I want to be the head of a cult. The only decision we've made thus far is not to kill them all for the crime of misplaced hope."

Her fingers tightened on the dark stone of the wall. "I see."

I took a pose of casual ease, resting my elbow on the stone crenellation and my chin in my hand. "We were actually planning on going to worship at the temple tomorrow. I wanted to burn some incense for the dead, and I was hoping a public show of piety could soothe the rabble." I didn't like talking about people like that, but I suspected a high priestess would already feel like she was above the crowd. Maybe she would forget that, up until six days ago, I had been the rabble.

The cool mountain breeze flirted with her long hair, sending strands of it drifting up into the air. She didn't speak for a long time, watching the people milling about across the divide. She wet her mouth, moving with care, and said, "I'm not certain this rabble can be soothed."

"Because of the vision," I said with a sidelong glance.

Her jaw tightened. "It was no vision, your majesty. I have reason to believe my goddess is…" She hesitated. "…suffering," she finished, the word hushed.

That was enough to get me to turn towards her, my brows pulling together. "Perhaps you could tell me a little more about fae gods, hierarch," I said slowly. "I'm afraid that no one's seen fit to educate me since my arrival."

The high priestess looked down at me without turning her head. Her expression was unreadable, as impassive as a marble statue. "They are not what humans so often think of as gods," she said, her voice very soft. "We know little of their origins, save that they did have them. They are ascended beings, creatures that were once like us, but that have become more. Much more." She pursed her lips and returned her gaze to the encampment. "Wild magic changes all of us, your majesty. Some of the most ancient fae remember a time when the Tuath Dé could still be killed. Time is a powerful force, even for the ageless."

"Tuath Dé," I said, tasting the words. They sounded familiar—something I'd heard back in Long Beach, maybe. "What are they?"

She lifted one slight shoulder in a shrug. "The lesser of the Deathless. They wander and rule the Shifting Lands, beyond these western lands that have grown so civilized. Sometimes they stalk the mortal world in kind." She sighed through her nose. "These lands are not so wild. Our deepest wilds cannot hold a candle to the true wilds of the Shifting Lands, and that's because of hungry blood and hungry gods. For the gods to walk among us, to care for us, they require a sacrifice of power. They feed on the power of the Courts, and that feasting keeps our lands tame and with far fewer monsters, like pike feeding on minnows."

All my skin went cold. What was it the statue had said to those people? A thief in her palace, drinking her springs dry? All the power to change the landscape had to come from somewhere. If a reflex healer was always healing, and always channeling…

"That sounds, ah, mutually beneficial?" I said. "Though I imagine a predator isn't the most comfortable of neighbors, even if they have reason to want to keep their hunting-grounds safe."

She made a harsh sound of amusement, her lips twisting into a hard smile. "I met her once, in my youth. She was beautiful and frightening, and I decided in that moment that it was far better to walk in the shadow of a goddess than to stand before her when she lifted those night-dark eyes in hunger. I have not yet regretted that decision." The high priestess tapped one finger on the stone. "Paloma is a paladin in spirit, your majesty, though she does not carry a sword. She serves Ithronel first, and the Court of Mercy second, if at all."

"And you don't?" I dared.

Her expression sharpened like a blade as she looked out over the encampment. "A landscape changed does not make a man a god, nor even a Court's power yoked," she said, not answering. "Yet, as those people down there surely believe, it could be counted as a good start. If one is to challenge a goddess, whether by design or by nature, one ought to be ready for the consequences."

The high priestess turned towards me, leaving one hand on the wall.

I looked back up at her, meeting her steady gaze. I didn't know what to make of her. I wasn't even sure if this was a warning or a delicate overture of alliance. Maybe it was both. "I think you mean something more than adoring sycophants and angry paladins."

A slight smile touched her lips. "Faery is a hungry place, young Queen," she said, considering me. "The wild magic that soaks into our blood and bones brings that hunger with it. Courts claw for land and power. A soulmate's greed for his partner rivals that of a dragon for his hoard. Monsters kill and kill, long past when any natural hunger would be satiated." She lowered her lashes. "Perhaps consider how such reflections might gleam in the soul of a goddess."

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