Page 89 of The Maleficent Faerie
The lavish celebration I have arranged floods out beyond the main square of the city, continuing for street after street and spilling into the fields beyond the walls of Kartiya. All the food, drink, and entertainment is free, courtesy of the much-diminished treasury of Daenalla. I needed it to be a celebration no one could resist, not even those who rightly deemed it an inappropriate waste.
Because itisinappropriate. It’s idiotic to be singing, dancing, eating, and drinking while the walls of the universe close in on us. It’s painful to smile and chatter with the Three Faeries and the Royals, when I know how many lives our kingdoms have lost in recent months.
It should have been harder to convince the Caennith Royals, Fae, and Priesthood to abandon all their caution, worries, and weapons and come to Kartiya. But once they ascertained that I was firmly in control, they were all too ready to rejoice over the end of the war. The people of my kingdom have one great weakness—they will always say “yes” to a celebration. The prospect of food, wine, music, and sex is too tempting for them to ignore.
And there is one more thing they can’t resist—the thing I promised to every living creature of this realm—a Surge of magic and ecstasy the like of which none of them have ever experienced.
The first Surge by a new Conduit is legendary in its intensity. And every Fae and human in this vast crowd, whether they be Daenallan or Caennith, is eager for the chance to experience the rush of Eonnula’s power. Andras told me the Daenalla are especially curious about it, since they’ve been deprived of the Conduit’s influence for generations due to the ongoing war.
This will be the first time in millennia that the Daenalla and the Caennith have gathered for a Surge. The larger the gathering, the greater the rush of magic will be. And this time, since I’m no longer blocked by the visceral glamour, I’ll get to feel it.
But first, there is a sequence of events to follow, in precise order. For hours I’ve pored over the plan with my Edge-Knights, Fitzell, Dawn, and a few trusted Fae, including Szazen the healer. I’ve accounted for every eventuality, from my parents’ over-cautious guards (who will be plied with drinks by attractive Daenallan servants) to the possibility of an assassination attempt by some desperate soul. I will consume nothing that might contain poison, and there are spells in place to intercept any arrows, daggers, or magic that might be thrown my way. Edge-Knights move through the crowd, eyes open for anything amiss, freeing me to focus on the plan.
I wait until the wary looks on the faces of the Three Faeries have faded into complacency, until my father is deep in his cups and my mother is licking honeydust off her fingers after delicately consuming four pastries. I wait until several troupes of dancers, jugglers, and merrymakers have delighted us with their antics, until the crowd is thoroughly relaxed and liquored.
I wait until Regents and Royals believe we’re a happy family of Caennith conspirators, poised to control this entire dying realm.
I wait until they believe they have nothing to fear.
Just before noon, when the Triune Suns are at their brightest, I rise and step to the front of the dais.
The crowd quiets, eager for my speech. I’ve spoken to groups of Daenalla a few times since I became their queen, but it’s the first time the Caennith have seen their true princess in person. And I’ve never addressed a crowd this immense—like a swarm of ants over a pile of sugar.
Dawn was right. I should have prepared notes.
I press my hand over the pocket of my gown. The lines on the paper I’ve concealed are the only notes that matter today.
“Thank you all for coming,” I begin, and the Fae herald near me amplifies my voice with his magic, carrying it across the square, through the streets of the city and beyond. “This is a historic occasion—the joining of two kingdoms. Despite the events of a month ago, it’s good to know we can still rejoice and worship together.”
A murmur of approval runs through the crowd, though half of them still look more concerned than carefree.
I’m sounding too much like a Royal. Too much like the fucking Priesthood, and the Daenalla don’t like it. Neither do some of the Caennith.
It’s time for some hard truths.
“The End is coming.” My words ring out like a death knell, silencing everyone. “The Void King tried to save all of you—he tore his own body apart to do it. All his life, everything he has done has been foryou.Not just for Daenalla, but for the entire realm. Some of you were loyal to him, and you loved him. But too many of you were ignorant of his sacrifice, which is bad enough—or ungrateful, which is worse.”
Shock, guilt, wonder, and fear etch the faces staring up at me. I may not have magic, or wings, but I feel more powerful than I ever did as a Fae bodyguard. Malec gave me this power—his love, his crown, his years, his people. The whole realm. Gratitude wells up in my heart, stinging my eyes with hot tears, but I take a deep breath and force myself to keep speaking, in the strongest, smoothest tone I can manage.
“You know the Maleficent One broke my sleeping curse—we’ve spread that news to the far reaches of this realm. The condition of breaking that spell was his love for me—me, the heir to his greatest enemies, the woman he cursed at birth. The Void King loved me like he loved all of you—with everything he had, even when he was maligned and misunderstood. If this is our last great celebration, he should be with us.”
Six Daenallan Edge-Knights, armored and helmeted, approach the dais. I recognize Andras and Vandel by their height and posture. The six knights carry a silver bier, on which lies a bulky figure draped in silky black cloth.
I glance back at my father, whose mouth is forming words—I think he’s saying, “What is the meaning of this?” His voice is probably meant to be blustery and commanding, but no sound emerges. No one can hear his protests.
A slow, wicked smile curves my mouth as I realize that it has actually worked. The first step in my plan is a success.
The Three Faeries would have noticed any dramatic, aggressive spells, but they overlooked the mild muting spell on the wine they drank, which took effect gradually, as intended. They didn’t notice the comfort spell Szazen laid on their chairs, which drains them of the will to take any action. Bound by seemingly harmless magic, the Regents remain in the same state as the two Royals—voiceless and docile, unable to speak spells or rise from their seats.
The Three Faeries won’t remain placid for long, though. I have mere moments in which to activate the rings they saw on my fingers. My mothers must have thought the rings were inert; a reasonable assumption, since they haven’t been around to recharge them for me.
But these rings don’t represent reconciliation, or any nostalgia about my childhood.
The High Priestess of Hellevan Chapel brought the rings to Kartiya for me, and at my request, she tweaked their original purpose. They were always designed to hold the magic of the Three Faeries and allow me to channel it in specific ways as if it were my own. And now, the rings will act as siphons, sucking every bit of magic from all Three Faeries, channeling it into my body in a raw, malleable form, so I can use it for any purpose I desire.
The sole purpose of my heart at this moment is to have my Maleficent King standing at my side.
The High Priestess is in the crowd near the dais—I can see her there, half-concealed by an elaborate festival headdress. She gives me a nod, her lips moving beneath the edge of her half-mask.
