Page 64 of Brutal Fae King
I draw my sword and spread my wings. With one powerful beat, I’m soaring into the skies. He approaches me, mirroring me exactly. He twirls his thin, rapier-style sword, eyes fixed on me. At first, he just keeps circling me perfectly. I ready my sword, but I keep waiting. Whatever he does, I’m going to counter it…
Apulseof magic crashes behind me, and Dralis’s eyes dart up over my shoulder.
“A shield like that?” he asks. “I didn’t know you had mages like that left in the castle. Unless…” His mocking gaze moves down to me. “…you’re risking the lives of so many young mages by giving them a spell too large for them.”
I don’t rise to his bait.
“What are you doing here, Dralis?” I ask.
He gives a single bitter laugh.
“I wouldn’t have thought I’d have to spell it out to you, Vicmar. Especially considering I brought my whole army.”
“You wouldn’t have had to!” I plead to him. “There would have been no need for anarmy!”
He doesn’t say anything. I fly closer to him.
“Dralis, you could have been king too!” I insist. “You could have been king alongside me! Why has it come to this?! Tell me!”
His mocking edge leaves his expression, but so does all signs of a smile. There’s nothing but bitterness left in his sneering face.
“Are you still referencing that stupid pact we made when we were children?” he asks.
“Yes, I am!” I snap. “I meant it! I meant every word! Iknewit was unjust for our parents to push you out from ascending to the throne—that’s why I promised you that we’d rule together when I did! The title was right there for you!” I sweep a hand down, gesturing to both armies clashing below us. “Why all of this?!”
Dralis growls at the back of his throat, then points his sword at me.
“Yourparents!” he snarls.
“What?!” I snap back.
“They were notourparents; they wereyourparents!” he says.
“We share a mother, and my father raised you from a baby,” I counter. “What more do they need to do for you to consider them parents?!”
Dralis scoffs.
“Of course you would think that! Why would the golden boy notice these things?” he mutters, half to himself.
“What things?”
Dralis looks at me sharply.
“Vicmar, your parents made it extremely clear that I was an unwelcome child,” he growls. “It wasn’t just pushing me out from being in line from the throne. It was what they called me. It was how they looked at me. I was the son of the tyrant, a dirty mongrel breed, and they made it clear that life would be easier if I wasn’t there.”
I feel myself curl up a little bit as hot, sticky guilt crawls throughout my body.
“I did notice,” I admit. “I know they didn’t treat you well.” I suck in another deep breath. “But we’re not children anymore. Our parents aren’t even here. It’s just us now. Things should be different.”
“Yes,” Dralis snarls. He starts circling me again. “Thingsshouldbe different, shouldn’t they, Vicmar? And yet Faevea is still as terrible as it ever was.”
“Dralis—”
“Faevea is still as terrible as it ever was!”Dralis repeats in a roar. “You have changednothing!You have helpednothing!You are ruling this land as your parents did, and you promised that you wouldn’t!”
“Things…” I start, then sigh. “Things were harder to maneuver than I thought. It was—”
“We are too old for these kinds of excuses,” Dralis growls. “You’ve had long enough to prove to me you’re different from our parents, and you are not. It seems you’re destined to rule like they did.” He points his sword at me. “And I am destined to be a tyrant likemyfather was.”
