Page 22 of Brutal Fae King
He did not want his bride, but they had become married. She was treated horribly for her crime of being a dark fae. When she bore a half-human and half-dark fae child, he attempted to rid her of it. To no avail, of course.
The shadows clear. The dark fae woman cowers from another figure, a baby in one hand and the other held up over her head. The tyrant is posed over her, something I can’t discern in his hand.
But I suppose I don’t need to know precisely what it is to know how awful it is. My stomach is turning.
Before long,the witch continues,the bride of the tyrant had pleaded for help, and such prayers were answered.
With aBANG,there are suddenly hundreds of dark fae silhouettes. I see the tyrant bearing a sword. But there are just too many of them around him. In fact, for the first time, Isee silhouettes at the periphery of my vision. I turn around, and I see an entire dark faearmyall around me. Hundreds of shadows of dark fae, all armed with swords and spears, in their characteristic spiky armor.
The tyrant was defeated quickly by those who answered the prayers of the tyrant’s bride. With the bride alone, she became queen and upheaved his rule.
The dark fae woman stands tall, her own crown and wings standing proud and tall.
She banished humans to the outer walls for fear of their loyalty to the former king,the witch says,and she found her true love amongst her dark fae saviors.
A dark fae man appears at her side.
The pair of them undid much the tyrant had done. Together, they ushered in a new era of peace. However, even with their half-fae and half-human child, even when they had their own full-blooded fae child of their own, what they didn’t have was an heir.
I frown.
“How didn’t they?” I ask.
The future foretells of the true heir of the kingdom returning someday,the witch says.The future is uncertain and hinges on the power of the lost queen. The throne is rightfully hers, and she may save the realm… or destroy it.
With another flash of red, all the visuals disappear. I just stand for a moment, staring at blackness. Staring at nothing.
“And… that’s me?” I clarify. “The lost queen.”
The witch forms in front of me, out of the shadows she’d been using to demonstrate her story.
“Yes, My Queen,” she purrs.
I sigh.
“And… now that I’m here… can I turndownthe throne?” I ask. “Can I just turn away from all this and go away?”
The witch cocks her head.
“If you leave, Faevea will be certain to fall,” she replies. “The return of the lost queen is essential for the survival of the realm.”
I sink down.
Maribelle… she probably needs my help—she’s so sick…
But if I leave here, the realm will fall? So Maribelle is going to die either way!
My sister—no… my… adopted sister…
It feels like my brain goes numb.
Me being a queen… the rightful heir to the throne…
I don’t give a damn about any of that. The only thing that keeps coming up over and over again is the fact that my childhood… was a lie.
I wasn’t my parent’s daughter. Every time my father patted my back after a chore well done and said, “that’s my girl”, was that a lie? Every time my mother proudly referred to Maribelle and me as “her girls”, was that a lie? Every time either one introduced me to someone new as “their daughter”, was that a lie?
My heart is cold. My eyes are stinging.
