Page 78 of Brutal Fae King
Vicmar just sighs contentedly underneath me. I nestle into his warm chest.
Maybe that’s just his way of saying it…
Chapter 24 - Vicmar
Ebelor’s lady-in-waiting pulls at the corset of the dress My Queen is wearing. For once, shelookslike a queen. She’s regal and graceful, with a baroque scarlet dress adorned with gold accents. It ties up at the neck, with long sleeves and a corseted bodice on top of large, layered skirts. Her hair is braided and wound up into a bun on her head, with pearls dotted into her brown hair. Gold and ruby earrings hang from her ears, and a similarly impressive necklace nestles at her throat. Her crown isn’t here yet—they haven’t found it in the collection of family heirlooms—I suppose, deep in my heart, I never expected to have a queen. What woman would want the“Cruel King”after all?
Fate has its ways. It’s funny,funnyways…
Ebelor looks at me, and I am blown away by how the blood-red dress brings out her green eyes. She looksglorious.
“I don’t know about this, Vicmar,” she murmurs.
“You look beautiful,” I answer. “And a queen needs to look like a queen. It befits you, Ebelor. You deserve it.”
The lady-in-waiting finishes tying the corset and steps back with a polite bow.
“Thank you, Michharn,” she says.
Michharn! That was her name!
It seems to be a constant thorn in Ebelor’s side that I’ve never taken the time to memorize any of the staff’s names. I’m trying to rectify that—but it’s taking some time.
Once Michharn has stepped back, Ebelor picks up her skirts and waddles toward me.
“I can barely move in this!” she protests.
I chuckle.
“A good king should make sure that his queen doesn’thaveto move!” I say jokingly. “Merely lounge on a throne, being fed grapes!”
She gives me a small smile.
“But that’s not the Faevea we’re in right now, though, is it?” Ebelor answers.
“I suppose that’s fair,” I reply, getting up from the chair. “However, we’re just having a meeting with the war counselors this evening. In that situation, I think you ought to look like a queen. Garner their respect.”
Ebelor gives a light sigh.
“Fine,” she says.
There is a knocking on the door.
“Enter,” I boom.
A guard walks in.
He is… Garga-something… Damn, I knew it when I asked him to fetch the crown!
“Oh, Gargamint,” Ebelor says when she notices him again.
Gargamint! Of course!
“Gargamint,” I say, “have you found the crown?”
“We have, Sire,” he says.
He presents us with the crown. It’s just as I remember it: many multicolored gems in its spike-like setting. My stomach gives a little squeeze when I see it; the last time I saw this crown,it was atop the head of my mother, her eyes closed and her face smeared with blood.
