Page 42 of Brutal Fae King
Suddenly, there’s a chill through the air—not a supernatural chill, but the kind that makes an entire room of happily chatting people stop.
Of course, he was at the door. The king, scouring over the scene with a deep, brooding glower on his face. He looks through the staff relaxing all over my room with a distinct scowl of disapproval, but he doesn’t say anything. I stand and begin striding through the crowds to meet him. When his eyes meet mine, I stare him down.
“It’s my wedding night,” I say coldly. “I thought a celebration was in order. It is aroyal wedding,after all.”
He looks across the room again and then returns his gaze to me.
“Good to know you’re having fun on your wedding night,” he says. I can’t even tell if he’s being sarcastic or not.
But he turns around and leaves. The partygoers murmur a little but then look at me. They’re looking at me in total awe.
This is the power I have now. He didn’t make a scene because he knew I could make one, too. And I am the queen…
I smile as he leaves.
I could get used to this.
Chapter 14 - Vicmar
I stare out the window at her. My wife. What an awful, gargantuan sentiment…
I’d never imagined what it would have been like to have been married, but… my parents and Bruamin always gave me the impression that it was supposed to be some grand affair. A legal union, a magnificent event to be marveled at by the peasantry and spoken about for years. Not to mention, it was supposed to make me… feel something. At least, not so empty.
I watch her pottering around in the castle gardens—Bruamin’s pride and joy—speaking with the guards accompanying her and touching upon the roses with delicate fingers.
She’s here. With me. Theonewho could have defeated me is now bound to me in such a way that it’ll never happen. I’ve spent my entire reign—perhaps even my entire life in some way—worrying about that possibility. Now, it’ll never happen as long as the spell holds; Dralis can’t take her like this, and through him, neither would Mischevil.
Things are finally on the path to Faevea being safe. I should be elated.
Why do I feel so hollow instead?
She keeps walking around in the gardens below me. At least she looks some kind of happy down there…
“Sire?”
“Come in, Bruamin.”
My lord-in-waiting walks in, a tray of tea in his hands. He puts it down on the desk with a lightchink.
“I took the liberty of bringing you a drink, Sire, seeing as you didn’t come down to breakfast this morning.”
“Much obliged, Bruamin.”
I keep staring out the window. I can hear him fiddling with the utensils on the tray, and when he walks over with a steaming mug, I ask:
“Bruamin, what does she speak about with the castle staff?”
My elderly lord-in-waiting looks out the window, down at her.
“She has been speaking with them constantly,” I growl. “I must know if she is conspiring against me with the staff.”
“Excuse me if this is ignorant, but would that not exacerbate her curse, Sire?” he asks, perhaps a disapproving tone eking in. “The one that will kill her should she break her marriage vows, including betraying you?”
“It would,” I answer, eyes affixed on her.
“And she knows this, yes?”
“I made it aware to her,” I say. “But perhaps she didn’t understand the depths of the spell. Or she considers killing herself alongside me to be a worthy sacrifice.”
