“But we are dead,” said the one called Quelldos, his voice quaking.
“Both of us,” added the tall advisor whose name had never been mentioned.
“Silence!” The royal turned to them with narrowed eyes, baring her teeth enough to show her fangs. “Is it not the greatest reward of all to give yer life in honor of yer queen?”
The advisors bowed their heads and retreated a step. Neither answered whether they agreed.
“Answer me!” she screeched.
Both bent with deeper bows. “Yes, Yer Highness,” the tall one answered before Quelldos could speak. “Of course, such a sacrifice would be an honor.”
“Quelldos?” The queen took a step toward the short, squat little advisor who reminded Mairwen of a toad.
“Without a doubt,” Quelldos said in a strained tone, “it would be the mightiest honor.”
“But the land is destroyed as far as the eye can see,” Mairwen said to the self-centered royal. “If any Fae, any creature survived, they would soon die of starvation and disease.”
The wicked queen twitched with a nonchalant shrug. “I do not care. I will be queen of the entire Realm, and that is all that matters. The land will eventually heal, and ye canna convince me that every Fae dies, that none of the creatures survive. It simply would not happen. There is too much magic among us for the Realm to become extinct all because of a silly war.”
“War is never silly,” Mairwen said, her voice sharper than intended. “Is death and suffering the way ye wish to start yer rule?”
“I dinna care how it starts,” the cruel, half-souled royal said, “as long as it starts.”
ChapterThirteen
Jeros had waited until the last possible moment to transport them all to the royal palace of the Seventh Realm. Their party consisted of Lexi’s tiger, her maid Rill, Madame Rosila’s three flighty seamstresses, and Commander Darkcord. He hadn’t dared bring anyone else in case they were forced to depart in haste. Before leaving, he had advised the commander to place Sevenrest on lockdown and instructed Nightleaf, the butler, and Mrs. Shimmerhill, the housekeeper, to prepare for war. Jeros expected the worst from this meeting. Not all Fae were as unreasonable and unteachable as his mother, but many were, and unfortunately, those many held positions of power. He prayed his father would rise to the occasion, but he held little hope. His sire could be as petty as his mother.
As they had come together in the meeting hall with the trunks required for the trip, Jeros kept Lexi tightly held to his side. A gnawing sense of finality hit him, an ominous premonition of what was to come. Just before he enacted the spell, he turned to her and said, “I love ye, my own. With a fury.”
“I love you more,” she had replied without hesitation, but her words did little to ease the worry gnawing at his innards.
And now they were here. Somewhat safely ensconced in his private wing that was kept ready should he ever deign to grace them with his presence.
“Stay closer than usual to yer mistress,” he told the Fae tiger.
Aylryd agreed with a low, rumbling growl that echoed throughout the vast marble atrium that served as the entrance to the wing.
Palace servants trained to serve with no expressions whatsoever scurried to carry their trunks and bags to the dressing rooms and ensure no want or need went unmet.
Jeros clenched his teeth, grinding them together, his irritation growing. Rill’s sorrowful look plainly told him that the royal servants werethinkingto each other. He had no doubt they discussed Lexi among themselves. Word of her scars would spread like wildfire throughout the palace and beyond. The network of the Fae Serving Clan was more efficient at keeping their masters and mistresses informed than any other method of communication.
“It’s nice here,” Lexi observed as she and Aylryd walked with him through the wide hallway. Her tone said otherwise. In fact, it reekedof bog water. She wrinkled her nose. “Eww…sorry. Even I smelled that lie.”
“It is a cold place,” he said, “always has been. ’Tis why I remain at Sevenrest rather than waste my life playing politics at Court.”
“Well, at least we won’t be here long.”
He halted, his heart even heavier. “Ye sound sad—and entirely too knowing.”
She pulled in a deep breath and squared her shoulders. “I am not blind. I know those servants were thinking to each other about me. They tried to hide their shock about my scars, but I saw it in their eyes. I’m sure the entire Realm will know within the hour that you joined with an imperfect mate.” She squeezed his hand, her eyes gleaming with unshed tears that fed his simmering rage. “I don’t care what they think about me. Just make sure you stay safe. All right?”
He cupped her cheek and brushed a kiss across the sweetness of her mouth. “They are the imperfect ones, my own. Never doubt that.” Pulling her into his embrace, he held her tight, breathing in her delectable fragrance of lilacs and the woman he loved. “Ye have taught me so much, and I am grateful. Without yer patience, without yer kindness, I would be less of a man. Less of a ruler.”
“Don’t make me out to be some sort of savior,” she whispered. “I am just me.”
“Ye are nayjustanything. Ye are mine.”
Rill appeared and cleared her throat. “’Tis time to prepare her ladyship for the presentation, Yer Highness.”
