Page 61 of Fae Exile

My teeth ground together; I had to force my jaw to relax before I cracked teeth. I’d burn her alive—damn the consequences—before I let her lay a finger on any one of them.

“What do I have to do to earn the chance to prove myself to Her Majesty?” I asked, the question deeper than I’d intended it. I cleared my throat. “Ikilledthe woman I love—loved—for you. How does thatnotprove my allegiance to you? I couldn’t have done more.”

“Watch yourself, Vega,” Ivar hissed from behind her right shoulder, his sharp eyes pinched. “I’ll kill you myself if you keep disrespecting my queen.”

The queen actually chuckled. “Ivar ... see?” she asked me. “What I require—nay, what Idemand—of you is the level of loyalty Ivar and Braque show me.”

“I can do that.”

Braque tilted his chin farther up just so he could better look down upon me. “No, you can’t.” His upper lip curled. With his puffy, round cheeks, he reminded me of a fish, hooked at the lip.

On his stubby legs, he scooted closer to her. “My queen, they’re just the words of a desperate man trying to keep his head. The drake’s never shown Her Majesty the adorationshe deserves.” He patted his ever-present potions satchel as if hoping to get to kill me himself.

I ignored her pair of suck-up shadows. Reminding myself I was awarriortasked with defending all the fae of our entire realm, and that battles took all sorts of shapes, I held Elowyn’s face in my mind, her smile brilliant, and played the ring of her laughter through my memory. For her, I could do this.

Sounding more earnest than I would have believed myself capable, I stood ramrod straight and met the queen’s frigid blue eyes. “Not only am I capable of that kind of loyalty, I’mburningwith the desire to prove it. I’ll dowhatever it takesto become heir to Her Majesty’s throne and thus secure her reign.”

At least most of what I said was true—thank you, ambiguity.

She stared into my eyes for so long that I felt my tattoos flare, a tell that she was getting to me I wished I could hide.

Finally she said, “I believe you.”

An exhale whooshed from my body as I belatedly attempted to silence it.

“My queen,” Ivar protested, but she held up a hand to quiet him.

“I believe you’ll do whatever it takes to secure your own goals.”

I held completely still.

“You’ve earned your death sentence as many times as you’ve earned your place as my heir. I see and hear everything. I know everything that happens in my kingdom.” She allowed that fact to hang in the air like a noose, suggesting she was unwilling to mention our visit to the dungeons to prevent the guards from hearing. “I asked you to do something as simple as to kill those who’dmurdered my son, and your crown prince—some would even say your friend. And yet you let the descendants go free to continue that traitorous bloodline.”

She leaned forward in the direction of the severed heads, lumps only partially concealed by the debris, and spat.

Behind her, the guard who’d outed me flinched before schooling his features into trained impassivity.

All of us at court, save perhaps Ivar and Braque, had to be the best of actors.

She waved her hand and a goblin materialized from the wall behind her, a silver goblet already perched upon a tray above his head, the accentuated points of his upper ears peeking from between the scraggly strands of his hair marking him as a male.

His large feet deftly avoiding the mess, he knelt in front of her throne. We all waited in silence while she drank a liquid that left her already red lips stained a deeper hue of it.

When she gestured the goblin away, I said, “Your Highness, may I prove that at the bottom of all my actions is an enduring loyalty to your crown? Toyou?” Now I was flat-out lying. “I’ll find Azariah for you and return him to court so the Fae Heir Trials may finally continue and your reign may be assured.”

Languorously, she blinked, then threw her head back in a cawing laugh that made even my bones clench in apprehension.

A moment later, Braque joined in. Ivar only scowled all the harder at me.

When she jerked her stare back to me, I stopped breathing. Her eyes blazed like a fire from the Igneuslands. “You think I don’t know where Azariah is? That I can’t snap my fingers”—she demonstrated, and the guard, who was clearly on edge after whatever interaction he’d had with her, quailed—“and get him here as fast as his legs or wings will carry him?”

Again, she laughed. Again, my breath froze.

“There’s nothing you can offer me that I want,” she insisted.

I gulped, inhaled, exhaled, then, before I could regret it, “You’ve never had me as your lover.” This time, a couple of my friends’ breaths hitched. “I’m certain Her Majesty has heard thegossip since she always knows everything going on at her court. I’m a superb lover. Very attentive.”

The bitter tang of vomit burned my throat. I could hardly believe the words were coming out of my mouth. But I held on to the feeling of Elowyn’s lips against mine, her skin soft beneath my fingers, her body yielding and incredible against mine. I’d imagine the beauty and ferocity of her face instead of the queen’s, and somehow, some way I couldn’t currently fathom, I’d find the strength to withstand the queen’s touch.

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