Page 29 of Destined for the Fae King

The center table is mostly full, but behind it sits another circle of chairs, these without a table. It’s the spectator section, and apparently, that’s what we are today. Too bad we don’t have a seat at the main ring, though Elaine’s presence is an indication that one day one of us will.

Several women rush forward, trying to snag a spot as close to the king’s seat as possible. But I do the opposite and aim for one straight across from him. Why be behind him out of sight when I can be right in his line of vision the entire time? Zoe has the same idea, and we end up side by side.

“Have a seat,” Vasilius orders, forcing the last few women silently fighting over chairs to pick one and sit.

Everyone takes a seat but him and Elaine. And though he’s the king, it’s clear his seat at the table—literally and figuratively—is the same as everyone else’s. There’s no special place at this round table, and it makes me think a little bit about King Arthur and his knights of the round table. So many legends in our world are influenced by fae traditions. Not that most people know that of course. But as the story goes, those without the gift heard tales from those with it and had to make sense of them somehow, so what better way than tales of human accomplishment?

I’ve heard about the Court of Fire’s tradition of the round table and including many advisors and royal family members in the dealings of the court. It’s as close to a democracy as the fae get and one of the reasons I so admired Vasilius from afar. Anyone who can be born to power and yet share it can’t be too terrible. The jury is still out on whether this tradition actually did inspirethe Arthur story, though, or if it happened the other way around. Maybe they fed and fueled each other. We may never know.

“Thank you for joining us today. Mother?” He sits, leaving her standing alone and leaning on her cane.

“Welcome, ladies. As you can see by my presence here, being queen is more than a title. It carries responsibility beyond being the king’s companion.” She takes her time looking around the room, meeting our eyes one by one. “You will be looked to as a voice of authority within the court, a source of knowledge and guidance for the king and others. Today, listen. Learn. And in the next meeting, you will all get to participate and share your voices.”

Once the queen takes her seat, the advisors are introduced. It’s a formality—we should know them if we’ve done our research—but I appreciate the refresher all the same. Stony-faced Avara, Captain of the Guard with her sharp features and straight pale hair that falls past her shoulders. Advisor Danai with her flawless ebony skin and youthful features. In human years, I wouldn’t put her past twenty-five, but fae appearances rarely tell a true story of age since the strength of their magic prolongs their life well past human years. She must be quite powerful indeed. There’s Efthymi, pleasantly plump and sharing the same coloring as the king. If I remember correctly, they’re related. A cousin maybe? Memnon is one of the few advisors who smiles at us and seems genuinely excited we are there. In fact, his piercing blue gaze is almost a little disconcerting as it hops from one of us to the next with a level of intensity that make me squirm in my seat.

Finally, there is Lysandir, brother of the king.

“And seer, don’t forget that,” Vasilius remarks when Lysandir gives little more than his name, title, and relation to the king. “His insights have proven valuable on many occasions. Too bad he can’t just tell me who should be queen, eh?”

A few hesitant laughs filter out into the quiet, but they are awkward things at best.

“And deny you the opportunity to find your bride yourself?” Lysandir responds, the comment caught somewhere between humor and seriousness.

Vasilius shrugs. “It would make things simpler.”

Lysandir frowns but doesn’t push the matter and takes a seat.

“Well, on to business then,” Vasilius orders.

Business, it turns out, is much more boring than I expected. No wonder half the advisors looked grumpy when we arrived, and frankly, still do. I’ve written little in my notebook, and I’m starting to think that maybe some of the others who didn’t bring one won’t be at as much of a disadvantage as I previously thought. Still a bad move on their part not to be prepared though. So far, most of the things they’ve discussed have been disputes between various citizens and families, which could primarily be resolved by being fair and equal.

“As our next topic,” Memnon begins, “we really must discuss the Unseelie.”

Nowthatgets my attention. I lift my pen from the cluster of flowers I’ve been slowly doodling and sit a little straighter in my seat.

Vasilius gives a nod for him to continue, and Memnon wastes no time. “As we discussed previously, activity near the Forest and Air Courts has slowed significantly since their conflict some weeks ago. We know now that they were trying to incite a war between the two courts with the aim of weakening them and making them easier targets, but those efforts came to naught. Since, our scouts have spotted more and more bands of Unseelie moving near our own borders. There was even that incident a week past where they attempted a breach.”

Someone gasps. I feel my own breath hitch. We knew there was trouble, but an attempted breach on the Court of Fire? That’s certainly news, at least to us, though no one around the center table is surprised. They clearly already know. They’ve discussed this before.

“That doesn’t leave this room, ladies,” Elaine says, her aged voice ringing with strength.

She doesn’t wait for our acknowledgement. It’s expected.

“It’s only a matter of time before things escalate further,” Memnon continues.

“But to what end?” This from Avara. “We’re not weakened like the Court of the Forest or off our guard like the Court of Air. They cannot hope to attack us through force alone. Our forces would destroy them. It would be foolish to toy with us.”

“There must be a reason,” Danai says.

“Curiosity? They may not know our strength,” says Elaine.

“They’ll learn of it quickly enough if they try our borders again,” Avara replies.

Through it all, I watch Vasilius take in one party then the next as they speak, his head propped on fist with his elbow holding up his arm like a post. The casual posture belies the intensity in his gaze.

“They’re likely testing us, checking for weakness and seeing how we react.” Efthymi nods along while they speak, as if their conclusion is the only right one, though I have to admit it makes sense.

“And so we should react with force!” Memnon’s voice rises with fervor. “Let them know we are not to be trifled with. They are the worst of our kind, and we cannot allow them to gain further strength.”

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