Page 5 of Omission

2

ANAYA

TWO WEEKS BEFORE THEY MEET…

“Your Highness, I’d like to request an audience.” My voice carries throughout the busy dining room, causing those eating to pause mid-bite and simultaneously turn their heads in my direction. They don’t see how nervous or jittery I am—how I’m failing to hide my unease as the weight of their attention makes my skin crawl and the tips of my pointed ears flush. Nor do they acknowledge the slight shaking in my tone and the nasty glower sent my way from their beloved prince.

All they recognize is my audacity…

I’m supposed to be seen and not heard as I’m being fed a few pieces of lettuce with a slice of toast while they feast like gods. I’m supposed to be admired because of my title, but never more than that, just as my mother was during the end of her reign.

I’m an object the king parades in front of the fae court to appease their curiosity. To them, we’re the picture-perfect family. To them, our strong bond and strict moral compass are admirable, but it’s all a lie. There’s no happiness or peace, much less affection within these castle walls.

You are nothing but a pawn I move at my discretion. You have no voice or choice; remember that, my child.

It’s a lesson drilled into me since birth by my father; a princess can never step out of line. She is bound by duty: to her people and her king—their demand for compliance is silent, yet the threat ripples loud and clear over me by those whose blood runs through my veins every single moment of the day.

I’m hated by the two men these people adore because I’m a woman.

I’m scared of the punishment they’d inflict, but that’s a matter our king will always handle privately.

He’d never do anything to tarnish his reputation in front of the few elders accompanying us, something my brother, Ruben, doesn’t approve of. It’s there in his expression, the intimidating way he leans forward in my direction while puffing out his chest to make himself appear bigger. A complex, he’s had since before my birth—since the day King Astor clipped his wings, and then the vampire king’s trusted snake guard dragged him back to our kingdom.

They’ve grown back, of course, but not correctly. Jagged and a bit lackluster while molting at a near-constant pace, almost as if cursed. And while an injured fae, having that sacred piece of you taken is the most heinous and heartbreaking thing, it’s only fueled his black heart.

My brother has learned no lesson; a complaint these elders hold over his head when talks of succession are brought up. I wasn’t there that day, born nearly a century later, but the story has been carried on and shared by everyone who works in this castle.

By the very men surrounding us at this table.

“Sister, how dare you—”

“What’s this about, Anaya?” Father says, interrupting our prince. Both men are watching me, matching eyebrows raised now while drumming their fingers atop the glass tabletop in a three-beat sequence that makes my legs shake beneath the cover of the ostentatious piece of furniture we sit at.

I know that count. It’s their preferred punishment countdown: a 3, 2, 1 cadence before the sharp strike of a whip—physically or by Father’s aura—or an open palm across my face.

I’ve felt that sting in the past. Many times. For any indiscretion or simply because of my father’s distrust.

Because the fae king considers my words to be an insult to his position.

Swallowing hard, I square my shoulders and try to settle myself. My hands shake and I’m quick to lower them, placing each palm facing down atop my dress-covered thighs. The fabric is ruched and itchy, something not from this era, and I hate it.

All of this. All of them.

“I’d like to discuss something of great importance, Your Highness.” Although I fail at keeping my tone unaffected, I meet his stare head-on. For the first time in years, I don’t look down and silently implore him to listen. I pray he grants me the chance to plead my case—to try to use the mental link he leaves open from time to time between us. Please, Father. I do not wish to marry—

“Say it out loud, Daughter.” His eyes narrow and his jaw ticks, showing his displeasure in the most innocuous way. A norm for him in front of the elders here, making the members of the fae court believe that while stern, their king isn’t a monster.

They see him as a visionary and prophet. A man unafraid to fight and whose words hold more weight than those of the gods.

Yet he’s much more than that.

Roi de cons: he’s the king of idiots.

An opportunist who used his forced bond with the true queen, his chosen mate, and stripped her of everything. Her reputation, her self-respect, and then her life were all taken by him. Because of his abuse and neglect. Because of his greed.

My father.

The Fae King.

---