Page 47 of Omission: Part 2

There’s so much joy and pride coming from those present. So much to celebrate as the wind sweeps past us, carrying a hint of patchouli and lavender—my parents—and they too, are grateful for her. She’s what we’ve been missing all these years.

Soon, we’ll have our binding ceremony and put all of this behind us.

“Please take the child and stay indoors, Isotta. Take two guards and after they drop you off back home, they’ll stay outside your home.”

“Thank you, my queen.”

“Mmph!” The tribrid’s muffled scream is pitiful at best, but has to hurt and she grimaces, wanting to reach for her neck but can’t. The shackles she wears are laced with iron and silver, painful to her, and the most minute shift is burning her flesh. A lesson she’s learned the hard way, having fallen on her ass this time beside the piece-of-merde male she loves.

No bite mark, though…

Tapping my arm, Anaya wiggles to be put down. “Just for a second. I know I’m in trouble.”

“Oh, you most definitely are, but—” A portal opens about twenty feet from us, and Tero slips through. In his mouth, there’s a flag. It’s solid black; I can scent traces of Gabriella and Isabella on it, but more important is what it stands for.

Mors.

Death.

* * *

The fae realmis in utter chaos when we arrive. The screams and the sound of fighting can be heard for miles while Brice and Chiara’s knocked-out bodies are dumped together in the middle of the throne room. The elders hiss at the sight, sympathizers of Larue’s doctrine who’d taken over the castle shut their mouths when Amelia, head held high, walks after me beside Anaya and her father.

The true fae monarchs don’t look at anyone. They continue the path past the elders who’ve spent their time cursing Anaya and her mother, the very woman who nearly lost her life at the hands of the man they idolize.

Past the gilded thrones and to the left, there’s an open balcony where the cacophony of protesters are crying out in anger. These are the people who’ve been hurt the most; the lower-ranking and small shop owners who have paid the steepest price during Larue’s reign.

They have been used and at times abused by a male-driven authoritarian regime that doesn’t care about anything but power and how to create a false narrative of riches that don’t exist. Because saying something is true doesn’t necessarily make it so, and this is one kingdom that’s suffered over a stack of lies that’s shattered without repair.

“Watch the balcony, my king.”

“As you wish, my heart.” Lifting her hand, I press a kiss to each knuckle before offering Anaya my arm. Her grandfather is helping Amelia; their relationship isn’t healed yet, but at the very least the former queen has been speaking to him via phone calls. And like her daughter, the device has been a joyous novelty for her. She has become obsessed with emojis and has no shame in adding fifteen per message.

Her grandfather isn’t innocent in that department either. With each new thing he learns or discovers, the disappointment grows. Eats him slowly. Their kingdom hasn’t progressed much in the last hundred and twenty years, stuck living in a time that the rest of the world has left behind.

These people don’t know about the internet or mobile phones, much less computers.

And while the family has touched on the subject in the past, it’s Anaya who pushes the agenda.

“The newer generations deserve the opportunity to grow past the walls of our kingdom. They should have the right to the same level of education and opportunities as other creatures. To do so, we need to expand. Bring technology in and move toward a new beginning where equality is key, and no one is looked down upon because of what they have between their legs.”

“Thank you.”Bend down and give me your cheek, Leonardo.

With a hand bent in front of my waist and one bent behind my back, I bow for her and I’m rewarded with kisses. One to my cheek. One to my chin. One to the tip of my nose. Moreover, the men do not like it, if the looks they give us are anything to go by, but they don’t do anything else.

These fae males aren’t fighters or warriors, and I don’t believe they’ve ever held a weapon in their lives. I am, however, biding my time. Just waiting for the minimalist excuse to knock their pompous asses out.

These assholes forgot what it is to be a real man.

A text pings as Anaya steps out with her family onto the balcony. They are standing side by side—a united front—and silence ensues. The protestors calm, and I pull out my cell phone and read Isabella’s message.

The castle is surrounded; Xadiel and Theo are not far. They’ve taken out a small cluster of anti-Anaya troublemakers near the southern border and are making their way back. ~Isa

Three dots appear as I begin to type. It starts and stops three times before her second message arrives.

They have the bodies with them as proof. Not one of them is fae. Two vampires and three witches, the latter having the Rossi insignia on their cloaks. ~Isa

Don’t bother responding. Keep your eyes on the man with the bronze lion’s head pin on his lapel. He’s not to be trusted. ~Isa

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