Page 81 of Crowned By the Fae King

Paloma's nostrils flared. She looked like she was contemplating throwing me off the parapet.

"I wasn't aware of my Queen's misstep," Cass said in a dangerous rumble, stepping in front of me. "I intend to find out precisely what that collection of misled fools is doing, hierarch. I want no temples in my name."

"See to it that you do," she said sharply, as if she could command a King. "Tonight is Ithronel's night. My goddess grants mercy to petitioners, not apostates. Don't think she fails to notice what happens in her Court." Paloma wheeled on her heel and stalked away.

My hands fisted. The Court answered me, rising underneath my skin, a promise of death and rot. No, I whispered to it. No, it's fine.

But it wasn't. I knew it wasn't.

Cass gave me a flat look, his eyes like chips of obsidian. "Let's go," he said, the words cutting. He turned and stalked away.

He expected me to follow, like I was some sort of tame pet. For one feral moment I wanted to defy him; to crack the walls in half and cleave the ground—to prove that I was no one's slave. That was the reaction of a child, though, the sort of destructive tantrum that I imagined would be met with opals at best and arrows at the worst.

I could see Auntie's disapproving look, that sharp frown she seemed to reserve for me at my worst. "You have too much fire in you," she'd say, shaking her head. "If all you add to the pot is chilis, soon all you'll taste is tears."

I bit down on my anger, and followed Cass.

He strode through the palace like a soldier, wings half-mantled and spine ramrod straight. Paintings turned ugly as he passed. Flowers withered. A vase shattered, the pieces tinkling to the ground.

I had to trot after him. It felt ridiculous, like I was a little kid instead of a Queen and soulmate to the angry man in front of me, but I did it.

I waited until we'd made it into the receiving room of the monarchal suite, Cass slamming the doors open so hard objects rattled, before snapping, "That's quite enough, your splendor."

Cass stopped. All his feathers slicked down in slow menace. He turned, his eyes hard and sharp with anger. "I think you're the one who's done enough, your majesty," he said, spitting out the honorific like it was a curse.

"No," I said, matching him glare for glare. "You don't get to be mad about this."

His wings mantled like an angry hawk. "This is my Court," Cass snarled. "They're my people. My responsibility. What gives you the right to make decisions without me?"

I almost laughed at the audacity. "You don't get to play that card, either," I said. Feral anger limned my bones. It felt like we were a pair of junkyard dogs about to tear each other's throats out. "I'm your soulmate. My throne's up on that mountaintop, same as yours, and the seats are at the same height."

His lip came up in a silent snarl.

"You made it crystal clear to everyone around you that you wanted nothing to do with ruling this Court," I continued mercilessly. "You made it a misery for people to come to you with problems, so they came to me. You abdicated all that so-vaunted responsibility, and I stepped the fuck up." I took a step closer to him, my hands fisted at my sides. "You don't get to be King when it's convenient, Cass. You don't get to bitch about the outcome when you refused to be part of the execution."

"Shall I be punished for giving you free rein, then?" he said silkily. The gold in his eyes gleamed. "Is that it?"

"You don't own me. There's no rein to give," I said, the words dripping in disgust. "I answer to no one but Mercy. You put that fucking crown on my head yourself."

"You agreed," Cass said, eyes hardening.

"Yeah, I fucking did," I snapped right back. "I stayed for you, and you threw me in the deep end and left me there to sink or swim on my own. Are you seriously trying to make it my fault that I made a mistake when you weren't even there?" I shook my head, barely able to look at him. "You didn't give a shit about where all those people went, as long as you didn't have to look at them. If you cared so fucking much, you should have said something."

Cass' hands curled into claws. I could feel his hurt and bitterness clawing at my spine like vultures tearing at a carcass. "We're the Monarchs." His jaw clenched, the muscle jumping. "We're supposed to be a team. Should I have argued with you in front of them? Squabbled with you like an old hen?"

I made a harsh sound. "You had weeks, Cass. A thousand times you could have told me what you thought. All you had to do was say 'no.'"

"I wanted you to like me," he gritted out.

"Oh, yes, because what I love is when men expect me to do all the work for them, and then get mad at me when I don't do things according to their secret specifications," I said, pouring on the sarcasm. "Get over yourself. You're the King. This is your job."

"I have done everything I've been asked to—"

"I'm not your fucking manager!" I shouted, loudly enough that he reeled backwards, wings flared. "Neither is Paloma, or Killaren, or any of the other people on our fucking staff! If you don't want to be surprised by what's going on in your own fucking Court, your splendor, then maybe pull your head out of your ass for one second and try to act like a King!"

He snarled, an animalistic sound. "I am trying—"

A whipcrack cut through the air.

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