Page 19 of The Cursed Crown

Havryll joined them much later. The Sea Land Courts were practically another world, not entirely part of the fae territory, but occasionally they traded or negotiated deals with the unseelie realm. Rydekar's great-great aunt was queen in one of the undersea kingdoms. While mysterious and highly private about their affairs, the Sea Land were an ally of sorts. Still, seeing a sea fae prince turn up at the gates of the palace the high court occupied at the time, Whitecroft, hadn't been expected.

Havryll never explained what pushed him to leave his realm. He wasn't banished; Aunt Cissa provided a perfectly warm letter of introduction recommending him. Rydekar never asked. What mattered was that he had gained a ruthless, well-read, cunning advisor, and friend with whom he could spar without worrying about knocking his head off at the first blow. They’d known each other for less than a decade, so naturally, he couldn’t quite trust Havryll’s loyalty yet, but he trusted his judgment, which was the next best thing.

Havryll didn't come alone. One of Rydekar's favorite fae had burst into his life at the same time as the mysterious prince. Seeing her enter the opposite end of the hall, running as fast as her little feet could carry her, he broke into a smile.

“If it isn’t my favorite girl in the world!" Khal bellowed, opening his arms.

The child giggled, but jumped to Rydekar's arms. He shot his annoying cousin a triumphant glance. A girl of sense, Nyla preferred Rydekar to him.

She had been a baby when she and Havryll had joined the unseelie court. Now, Nyla was in her nineth year. Perhaps too old to be carried like a child, but Rydekar would behead anyone who suggested he stop. “Aren't you supposed to be in bed, you troublesome wench?”

The child pouted. “But I can't sleep if Uncle Havryll and you two are out there, you know I can't!"

He pressed his lips to her forehead, smiling into her turquoise hair. Sea-green tresses, pale skin, and eyes the exact color of coral, she was fire and water rolled into one adorable, if slightly manipulative package.

Rydekar guessed that Havryll's defection from the Sea Lands had something to do with the little girl, but if in almost ten years his friend hadn't seen fit to bring it up, he would leave well enough alone. Some knowledge was dangerous, and the last thing he’d ever want would be to put this precious child in danger.

"I know the feeling. When I was your age, and my grandmother ruled, she and her husband Velanor often left the keep for some duties that seemed very dangerous to me. I never could sleep either."

"Queen Charlotte?" The little girl's face brightened at the mention of Rydekar's grandmother.

For some reason, Charlotte fascinated her. Perhaps because she had been the first queen to be born of a human, yet Charlotte was known as one of the most ruthless of rulers in his line, almost as insanely bloodthirsty as her own grandmother, Nevlaria Bane. Nyla loved stories that ended in fire and blood, and most of those about Charlotte did.

"Yes, Queen Charlotte." He let the girl get back to her feet. Nyla rushed to demand a kiss first from Khal, and then from Havryll.

After obliging, her uncle coaxed her into heading for bed. “We have a little work to finish off. I'll come to you after.”

"And you’ll tell me a story?" Her big fiery eyes were so very full of hope.

Rydekar knew the logical answer was no—it was far too late to think of anything but sleep. He also knew that not one of the three of them could resist the little monster, and she was fully aware of it. She played the doe eyes and pouty lips for all they were worth.

“I’ll tell you a story,” Havryll conceded. “But only if you're wrapped up in bed by the time we are done.”

Victorious, she trotted out of the hall, joining the short, pale, green-skinned imp nurse waiting for her next to her guards. Nyla was a princess of a Sea Land Court, and as such, would have warranted some degree of protection, but because the three most powerful men in the high unseelie court cared for her, she was treated like a jewel of Tenebris. Had Rydekar fathered any child, they would have been given the same number of guards.

"Someone is going to have to tell her that her favorite king has found a girl he likes." Khal flashed his trademark smirk. “You know Nyla intends to marry you when she comes of age."

Havryll sighed, and Rydekar grimaced. The very thought of wedding a child he had carried in his arms, cared for, protected, and sung to on lonely nights made him want to vomit.

It wasn't that she was too young for him—not exactly. Among the folk, age was of little consequence. In a hundred years, why would it matter that they were born three hundred years apart? But while he could very well marry a girl much younger than him, he'd never touch this child who was for all intents and purposes, their daughter. Khal, Havryll, and he had raised her, though none of them would have qualified as an experienced parent. Khal spoiled the kid rotten, Havryll made up rules and promptly taught Nyla how to break them—proving that he belonged right here in the unseelie court. From what Rydekar knew of the Sea Lands, they were mostly of seelie inclination.

For his part, Rydekar hired several tutors, ladies in waiting, and nannies to ensure that the child was cared for by someone who actually knew what to do about her.

Khal’s favorite pastime was attempting to get on Rydekar’s nerves, mostly because it was generally nigh on impossible. What his cousin didn't realize was that for once, he might manage to cut through his control. Rissa had chipped his armor, and his cool demeanor was ready to crumble. Rydekar was coming undone, slowly but surely.

Control was important to him. He hated the feeling of losing it. But he recognized it and he knew just what to do about it.

He needed to fuck, or fight. Maybe both.

That would have to wait.

Traitor’s Blood

They finally reached his study. Inside, Morgan, the head of his spies and two of his advisors, Crane and Denos, were animatedly arguing. They fell silent the moment the door opened before them, as was generally the case when the trio entered any room. They were a sight; Rydekar and Khal both colossal by fae standards, and moving with the lethal grace of warriors. Of a more classical build, Havryll’s soundless steps and cold, cutting gaze were no less minacious.

“Your Grace, Your Highnesses…”

Rydekar waved off their attempt at courtesies, cutting the obeisance short. "To hell with your bowing. Any news?"

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