Page 4 of The Light Falls
“Queen Merindah, it’s lovely to meet you,” she assures me. Her eyes dart briefly to her husband, then return to me.
Lord Camon is the highest-ranking spring Fae and, according to Solandis, the most vocal opponent of my coronation.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you both. Lord Camon and Lady Brina,” I reply firmly, although I can’t help wondering why he’s so opposed to me ruling.
The crowd around us audibly inhales, and Lord Camon’s mouth compresses in fury. Lady Brina freezes.
Confused, I raise an eyebrow to Solandis.
She leans down and whispers in my ear. “Brina is a Water Fae. As a Lesser Fae, she cannot use the title of Lady.”
Shit. I remember Solandis telling me about the Lesser Fae, but I expected them to be creatures with sharp teeth, animalistic features, and such. I inwardly groan at how much there is to learn, but hopefully, now that the coronation is over, I can focus.
“Please forgive me. You’re so gorgeous, my brain went blank for a second. Maybe I should just call you Beautiful Brina,” I jokingly plead. My first introduction and I’m already apologizing.
Her light eyes study me for a second before she graces me with a small smile. “Of course, Your Majesty.” She steps closer to Lord Camon, and he automatically puts his arm around her waist.
It’s obvious she doesn’t believe me.
Tactfully retreating, Solandis moves us along to the next person. “Lady Demira of Summer.”
A tall, blond woman with sharp cheekbones and purple eyes dips into a curtsy. “Queen Merindah.” When she rises, she eyes me with disdain. “It’s beneath the Queen to speak to the Lesser Fae. They exist to serve us and should only be addressed in that capacity, unless, of course, you’re a High Fae with special privileges.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Lord Camon swivel around in fury, and while I don’t blame him, I don’t need this scene to escalate. “Lady Demira of Summer,” I repeat, scrambling for something to say... summer. “Any relation to Lord Theron?”
A sour look crosses her face. “He’s my father’s child.” She doesn’t elaborate further. Another person who doesn’t meet with her approval.
With a purposely confused look, I clarify. “Theron’s your half-brother?”
She fails to realize I just called him by his first name. “I don’t claim him as a relative.” Her eyes dart to the Fae around us who give her approving smiles. “He’s an indiscretion from my father’s past.”
Indiscretion. Unbelievable. Theron is the result of a mated match, and therefore, a very legitimate heir to summer.
I dart a mischievous glance at Solandis. “Isn’t Lord Theron part of your immediate family?”
Solandis’ blue eyes coldly assess the Fae in front of her. “I absolutely claim Lord Theron as family. Come, Queen Merindah, let’s find you more… suitable company.” With a toss of her head, she turns her back to Demira in an elegant, but deliberate, snub.
The crowd follows Solandis’ cue and turn their backs on the Fae they heartily approved of just minutes ago. Lady Demira looks stricken for a second, then her eyes narrow hatefully on me.
Another fan. To be fair, we were never going to be friends anyway, not with the way she feels about Theron. I can’t help but look back at Lord Camon, but he’s already moving away.
How am I supposed to turn him into an ally? Not only does he oppose me as queen, but he’s also actively working to reduce my power within the council. The laws for the light Fae are introduced and voted on by the lords and ladies who rule within the council. Right now, as queen, I can veto any law. He seeks to take that power away.
We approach the next group, and Solandis introduces them. We make small talk for a few minutes, then move on. It’s all so civilized and restrained compared to the riotous hedonistic parties we give in the Underworld. The quietness of the room alone is driving me insane. After another hour of meet and greet, faces and names start to blur together, and my patience is nearly gone. Tired of listening to snide comments and thinly veiled insults, I need to escape for a few minutes and breathe less hate-filled air.
I scan the walls along the side of the room, looking for a discreet exit, but I don’t see a single door. Surely this room has more doors than just the two at the entrance. A glint of red stops me in my tracks, and I crane my neck to get a better look.
It’s him.
Standing alone, he’s almost blocked from my view by a large pillar, but his hair is a beacon he can’t hide. The auburn top layer flares red under the golden lights, giving it the look of fire, while the black strands underneath resemble the soot left in its wake.
Excusing myself, I slowly make my way to his side of the room. The last thing I want to do is trigger old memories by rushing toward him. The bland mask he’s wearing says casual and relaxed, but looking closer, I see the tic in his chiseled jaw and tightness in the corners of his golden eyes.
Dressed in black and the deepest of reds, Rivan’s attire is similar to Cormal’s, but the decorative pattern on his jacket is only displayed on one side. When I get closer, I notice the pattern is the same as my dress. A deliberate sign from Cormal to identify one of his chosen protectors? Or a silent sign of support from Rivan himself?
“Rivan,” I exclaim, reaching out to grab his hand.
Stiffening, he pulls it quickly behind his back and bows. “Your Majesty.” When he stands, his gold eyes automatically lock on my forehead, and he flinches.
