Page 50 of A Kingdom of Destruction

Her own home had been constructed from stone and brick. There was little left of growing things, and yet she saw what Cillian meant when he said they came from the land themselves. Even their towns sprung up from the dirt, looking an integral part of the natural landscape.

Fences were woven out of living plants, yet the livestock inside were skinny.

She might as well have been back in the human lands for the normalcy of this place.

Together they rode into the center of the village, and those fae on the streets stopped to stare at her.

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None of the villagers made any disparaging remarks, but the braided updo left her all-too-curved ears on display. Aven felt each one of those stares and noted the myriad narrowed eyes as she passed. The silence was suffocating.

Cillian paid no mind to the reaction of the crowd slowly forming. Rather, he held out a hand to get her to stop and then tossed his reins to her, hopping down from horseback to address the villagers personally.

She took the time to look around, marking the proximity of the houses and the number of people on the street. Not that she thought any of the information would be useful to her. Her fight wasn’t with these people who wanted to eke out the best life possible for themselves and their families.

Her fight was with the monarchy who ordered their soldiers into her territory and slaughtered innocents. Like the people who had beenhersto protect—and she failed.

Now she rode with their crown prince.

Her gelding dragged his front hoof through the dirt, eager to get going again. Cillian spent only a small amount of timehere before he finished his business with another male who looked like he’d come out of the church. Once they finished their conversation, Cillian remounted his horse, and they rode to the opposite end of the village.

Within twenty minutes, he guided them away from the buildings and toward a small open space in the field. The grass turned to clover, and the babble of a stream grew louder with each step.

“I thought we’d stop here and have a little bite to eat, if that’s okay with you,” Cillian said at last. Whatever he’d spoken about in the village made lines form at the creases of his eyes.

“There’s no need for you to ask. You are the one in charge of things.”

Seeing him with his people, the way they clustered around him with open expressions and wide eyes, reminded her of the fact. They trusted him to lead them, and they all knew of his victory against her. She’d been sure of it.

Whether they knew her as a fallen princess or a spoil of war, Aven wasn’t sure.

“It pays to go out and let them see you,” Cillian explained. He stopped at the center of the clearing a few paces away from the stream and its clear water. “If I can bring a smile to their face and see what they need on the same trip, then I’ll do it. I’m sure you understand. And we’re here not because you have no choice but because I thought you would appreciate being out of the palace.”

Cillian dismounted and undid the straps of his saddlebag with deft fingers. From their depths, he drew out fresh fruit and hard cheese along with what looked like a fresh loaf of bread. Aven took her time before she dismounted and found her legs to be a little unsteady.

Too many hours of training and not enough time back in the saddle. She’d have to rectify the situation.

If Cillian noted the way she wobbled, he said nothing about it.

“You don’t need to worry about me,” she said as she left the reins loosely draped across her horse’s neck. “I’m not one of your people.”

“On the contrary.” Cillian turned to study her. “You are absolutely one of my people now, and I’m as responsible for you as I am for any of the others.”

She scuffed the toe of her boot against a particularly fluffy patch of clover. “I don’t want you to be. I preferred it when you were a distant figurehead.”

“You mean when I was someone you needed to cut off at the knees and make pay for every terrible thing you suffered,” he corrected.

“Yes. Exactly.” Aven refused to be embarrassed, either.

She hadn’t known any personal information about the fae in charge, but she’d known her hatred of them intimately, like a stain across her heart.

Cillian brought a small blanket out of the saddlebag and spread it on the ground between them. The horses were content to graze and appeared in no rush to get back to the stables. Cillian finished setting up their picnic breakfast before he stood back and gestured for her to sit.

The stream and the peace of the little clearing seemed to drown out her logic. That was her excuse, anyway, when she folded herself down on the blanket and grabbed a piece of hard yellow cheese.

“It’s something I admire about you, you know.” Cillian sat close enough for their knees to touch. “Your love for your people.”

Aven shook her head. “Please don’t act like we’re the same.”

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