The spiritstag remained before me, head raised. From nearby, I felt Faun’s gaze on me like a brand, pressing on me.
It was time. It was time to make them see me.
“Rise,”I said. “Rise all.”
Heads lifted. Slowly, without certainty, the Sylvanwild fae began to rise. I waited, fingers clasped before me, until they were all on their feet.
As Faun had said at least three times, a queen didn’t fucking rush.
Finally, when the shuffling had finished and all eyes were on me, I drew in a breath.
“I know what many of you expect,” I said. “That I will send a champion into the queen trials. That I will name a consort. That I will preserve the old ways.”
I paused. A severe, uncomfortable pause.
My heart thundered—but I had made a promise. A promise to a god. One I could not break.
“I have no interest in the old ways.”
I had expected gasps or at least whispers. But their shock was silent, their stares as loud as shouts. Perhaps, in the spiritstag’s presence, they felt like the awestruck children they’d once been.
I stepped to the edge of the dais. I forced my gaze to travel over those nearest me. To meet their eyes, even as my hands trembled in their clasp. Fear, courage—one always preceded the other.
“Each of you knows I am not of this court. I was kidnapped”—my eyes skipped over to Dorian, who remained unmoving except for a tick of the muscle in his jaw—“from the human Kingdom of Storms. I come from a barren land. A land of acid and scorn.
“And yet,” I said. “I was forced into your trials. I survived them. I was forced to fight your queen. I defeated her. And should any fae in this room wish to claim this crown upon my head, I dare you to step forward.”
I waited, my lips firm, willing my knees not to shake under my dress. The room remained silent. Not one fae stepped forward.
Not one.
I wondered if I could have summoned the power I’d need if anyone did challenge me. In that meadow, it’d felt easy; here, I wasn’t so sure.
With a nod, I unclasped my hands. “So be it. Here is my first act. I name Faun Morraine my second-in-command.”
Faun came forward with hands fisted at her sides, chin lifted, and stepped up on the dais next to me. She turned to face the others. This time there were murmurs. A servant fae as second?Well, get used to surprise.
My eyes found Dorian. My insides wrenched the way they often did at his nearness. I raised my chin and my voice. “I name no king. I need no consort.”
This time a beat of silence fell. Then voices. More, more, until a din had started around the room. And they weren’t sounds of approval; even a changeling raised in the Kingdom of Storms knew these sounds. They were common amongst human and fae.
“It isn’t right,” a man finally called out.
“Look at what happened to Rhiannon,” another said.
“Rhiannon didn’t die for lack of a cock at her side,” Faun said loud enough to be heard, her voice lethal-edged.
Gods, I was glad for her.
The murmuring went on, moving like ripples through the crowd. I had one more thing to say,and I needed them to listen.
So I did what Eurydice Waters would do.
I pressed my lips together and I let out a long, loud whistle. It was a whistle the dead night guard atop the wall would have been impressed by. It caromed off the walls and rang into everyone’s ears.
It worked.
All eyes darted to me and stuck. Waited.
