Page 143 of The Forbidden Fae King

The oak desk before me is covered in crumpled parchment. Letters that have found their way to me at the Frozen River Fortress, some with their seal still unbroken. Others are in my own hand, that I started drafting before getting interrupted. I am constantly getting interrupted these days.

Cyprien pulls a chair from the opposite side of my desk and deposits himself in it. There are deep, black rings under his eyes. Even his usually bronzed skin looks pale.

“You’ll have to repeat that.” I massage my temples.

He passes me a neatly folded parchment with a gold seal. “This arrived in the mail portal. Transported straight from the palace.”

I take it and inspect the seal. It is an imprint of Titania’s profile. Only she would be arrogant enough to use her own face as her sigil. I tap it against the surface of the desk. “No spells or traps on the letter?”

Cyprien huffs an agitated breath. “None that I could detect.”

I examine the letter for a long moment, staring at it like I have a viper ready to strike in my palms. It will be filled with as much poison. Apprehension coils within my stomach.

“The letter will not disappear from you avoiding it,” Cyprien points out.

I break the seal and open the folds. The letter doesn’t shatter into a thousand needles and plunge at me. It doesn’t release a choking gas or a flash of light bright enough to blind me for days. None of those kinds of spells could kill me, but I wouldn’t put the pettiness past her.

I scan across the lazy scroll, anger building in my blood with each sentence.

My Dearest Aldrin,

Do not believe I have forgotten about you. That I will ever stop coming for you. I will strip you bare, and not in a way you will like. I have taken your crown, your title and your power. Now, your life, your dignity, your good reputation will all be mine.

Fear not, I am at no risk of running out of money to pay for your night time visitors. Trade has been very good since I relieved you of your incompetent rule. The Assassins of Belladonna will keep coming to play every single night, until you surrender to them. No one, and I mean absolutely no one, is coming to your defense in the Senate.

You see, the official word is that you were in collaboration with our oldest enemy, the Winter King. That you had sold your soul to him, shared his bed, and then attempted to sell your very people to him. That is why you tried to make them believe he is no risk to the Spring Court, all while he readies his forces for an invasion.

I also had them swallow, dear Aldrin will hate the irony of this one, that the Winter King commissioned the Assassins of Belladonna to kill you. I made up some utter nonsense that you failed him and revealed your hand tome, enabling me to thwart two enemies at once. How clever your old subjects thought I was.

I would wish you a pleasant night, but I’d much prefer you strangle in shadows and burn in molten light.

High Chancellor Titania

I toss the parchment to my desk. “She is playing games.” I spit.

Cyprien reaches for the letter, his eyes quickly skimming from left to right. His teeth grind so hard I can hear them. “This letter was pointless.”

“Not if her aim is to taunt us,” I mutter.

A high-pitched whoosh sounds as air rushes toward the letter, and the parchment still clutched Cyprien’s fingers catches fire abruptly. He drops it to the ground cursing, and I lean over the desk to watch flames quickly lick across the pages and consume it until not even ash remains.

“The only damn time she speaks the truth is when there is no evidence left of it.” He shakes his head.

I don’t want to think of Titania today. Not when there is nothing that can be done about her right now. It would have me stewing in impotent rage and frustration.

“What other correspondence came today?” I point to the stacks of letters beside Cyprien.

He silently hands me another one, the seal already broken, and I swiftly read over it. “Lord Cedar will not bring any potential allies to the border to witness the rifts while assassins have a commission against me. They won’t risk it, not even during the day.”

I rub my hands over my face and across my temples. The pain there builds and builds, reaching claws back across my skull. “I knew his support would disappear at the first hint of hardship.”

Cyprien nods, the beads in his dark braids clinking. “Many fear they will earn their own commission with the assassins. Titania has the funds and is spiteful enough.”

I read three more letters in the same vein. There is a sinkingfeeling in my chest, as though I am being dragged down into inky darkness and despite how I fight and claw, there is no stopping this descent. Sometimes, I feel like giving up. Handing myself over to despair.

It is so much effort to keep fighting every single day, no matter the backlash or consequences, no matter the rejection from the people I am trying to save.

It is draining me.

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