Page 15 of Consort

I keep my gaze fixed on the floor until the queen addresses me. I feel her assessing eyes on me as I wait, possibly toying with me. It’s infuriating, but I know better than to let my anger take control of me. If she doesn’t see me as useful, she might simply kill me for what I did to Mitah.

“Who are you?” she asks, finally breaking the unnerving silence.

Her voice doesn’t match her flawless appearance. It’s rough and harsh, scraping across my skin like bark as she speaks.

“No one, my queen,” I say, braving a look up at her.

“Hmm…” she says. “Charming answer. What is your name, then?”

“Durin,” I say plainly.

She trails her eyes over my face and body as if they can penetrate right through me. Like she has access to every one of my memories and emotions. I don’t believe she has that ability, but I’m uneasy nonetheless. No one really knows everything she’s capable of. I doubt she’d ever be foolish enough to give away that information.

Her eyes come to rest upon my crippled hands again as I cradle them against my chest. Instead of smirking this time, she flicks her wrist at the fae with the pitiful glamour, and he quicklyleaves the room. He returns with a small, silver-haired fae and pushes her toward me. She won’t meet my gaze, but her eyes are intense as she zeroes in on my injured hands.

A healer.

She examines both hands, flipping them over and pulling on each finger. I suppress the urge to heave, though the pain is severe. Mercifully, she soon closes her eyes and lets her healing power flow over me. The warmth of her magic is strikingly different than my own angry, destructive heat. Hers is soothing and restorative, gently bringing my hands back to their original state in seconds.

I begin to thank her, but I think better of it. I turn to the queen instead. “Thank you, my queen, for your graciousness.”

She smiles broadly and looks me over once more. “Oh, you’re simply perfect, aren’t you? Come closer.”

I have no choice but to let the soldier shove me forward until I’m a mere five paces away. The queen’s magic has been circling the room like a guard, watchful and protective. But, as I stand before her, the weight of her power descends upon me like a storm breaking. My hands are healed, but I doubt I could raise one against her, even if I were foolish enough to try.

The mixed fae shifters growl and hiss at me as I come too near the queen for their liking. It still baffles me how she’s managed to train them to protect her. Their chains keep them at a safe distance, but their presence still puts me on edge. I try to ignore them and focus on the queen instead. She’s the real threat in the room.

When I look back at her, she’s flashing another strikingly beautiful smile at me. Her glamour is flawless, if it’s even a glamour. Maybe she just doesn’t age. But there’s a certain sensation that comes with a glamour. It’s impossible to pinpoint exactly what it is, but I think I catch the subtle energy buried within her power and false charm.

Either that, or I’m catching another kind of energy I probably don’t want to know about.

Despite her objective beauty, I’m repelled by her. Her voice is grating, and I know what darkness lives in her heart. I hide my distaste, though, and wait anxiously until she finally speaks.

“I hear you murdered one of my nobles,” she says, the smile slipping from her face. “Now, why would a common fae do that?” She leans forward and squints at me before adding, “Andhowwould a common fae do that?”

I hesitate, not wanting to reveal the truth, but I’m not sure how to get around lying. I decide to address her second question first.

“I have heat magic,” I say. “I boiled the blood inside him until he died.”

I try to sound nonchalant, but, really, I’m worried I’ve said the wrong thing.

She purses her lips and raises a brow at me. “Heat magic, you say? I’ve never known of heat magic powerful enough to kill before. It seems you have a parent who has been hiding something from me.”

“No!” I answer too quickly. I fear for my parents, who did nothing wrong. “No, my queen,” I say again, trying to appear calmer. “My heat magic comes from my father. It was mild, like his own. But Mitah wronged me four years ago. I spent the years since growing and refining my magic so I could repay him for it.”

The queen surprises me by throwing her head back and laughing, the sound like gargling gravel. “So, you killed my most powerful noble because he slighted you?” She shakes her head in disbelief, then meets my gaze again. “How old are you?”

“Twenty-one, my queen,” I say.

She chuckles. “Ah, young pride. You spent the last of your formative years seeking revenge.” Her expression suddenly becomes serious. “That kind of dedication is rare among mysoldiers.”

I’m relieved I didn’t have to give details of Mitah’s offense. She might not think me so admirable if she knew I was avenging a shifter. I don’t offer up the information, but she keenly picks up on something I hadn’t considered.

“You said you grew your magic,” she says, narrowing her eyes as her power swirls around me. I feel it wrap around my throat and press against my chest, reminding me that each breath I take is a gift she’s granted me. “Tell me more about that.”

She seems to have forgotten about my father, but she has latched on to the idea of my magic’s transformation. Magic comes in at its full power. A fae will find more ways to use it as they mature, but it doesn’t grow stronger. Mine has. Mentioning that was a mistake. Whywouldn’ta greedy ruler want to know how I was able to become more powerful?

“I pushed myself,” I tell her, which is no lie. “I trained my magic every day, adding potions and whatever else I could find to make me stronger.”

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