“They are not behind this, Sloane,” she said simply. “Mince your words to deny it if you must, but think of what your people will do when they hear these rumors. If they decide you are a false king, they will have you hanged. It is against the law of our god for a half-human male to become the High King of our great court. Unblemished and whole, you are not. And then Thane will never have a chance to rule.”
That had finally got him, Imogen could see. Sloane cared little for her, but he loved his boy fiercely, same as she.
“You said you did not want him to rule,” Sloane hissed.
“For now,” she replied, having counted on this. It was a risk, but a calculated one. If everything fell into place, then she would rule long enough to bring all the courts together beneath her boot. And then she would step aside and allow Thane to rule, but only then. “He is not ready.”
Sloane growled. “He is of age. Foryears, he has been of age.”
“You have heard how he spends his nights. He is not fit to sit on that throne. One day he will be, but that day has not yet come.”
“You are merely saying that so that you may sit your own arse on the throne.”
“Perhaps.” She shrugged a delicate shoulder. “But I am also not wrong.”
“You care for him, even if you prefer to pretend you do not.” Sloane narrowed his eyes. “This will destroy him, Imogen.”
“He will get to rule his precious kingdom,” she hissed. “But I get to rule it first.”
Sloane let out a heavy sigh, slumped back into his throne, and closed his eyes. “Very well. I suppose I do not have another choice. I will abdicate my throne, and I will pass it on to you until he is ready to rule. But you must promise me that you will never reveal the truth, not even to Thane.”
Excitement flickered in Imogen’s heart. “I promise.”
She could not lie, nor could she swear to a promise without binding herself to her words for eternity. The fae might have lost most of their powers and the lands might be drained of magic, but some things had not changed at all. Fae could never lie, not so long as they were a part of the great continent of Tir Na Nog. The only fae who could lie were the ones who had been exiled: the shadow fae. Luckily, they were no longer a concern.
Now that she had spoken the words aloud, Imogen would forever be unable to speak Sloane’s truth to anyone. Aengus, however, had not made that vow. An oversight, on her husband’s part.
Sloane heaved a heavy sigh and stood, relinquishing his Seat of Power. “It is done. Take my crown from me so that I may keep my son.”
Imogen smiled. She could scarcely believe her luck. For years, she had been working toward her plan, plotting and scheming behind her husband’s back. It had taken a long time to get the right pieces into place. She needed a lover so devoted to her that he would risk his own neck to put her on the throne. Of course, Imogen was not dimwitted. She knew that Aengus had not made his moves out of love. He did it because he himself wanted power.
And he would never get it.
“Mother.” Thane stormed into the Great Hall, his hurried footsteps echoing in the empty space, his body visibly shaking with anger. His uncle, Lord Bowen Selkirk, followed closely behind, confusion rippling across his usually amiable face. Imogen stood tall and gazed down at the two Selkirk males. They were almost mirror images of each other. Golden hair and eyes, polished yet commanding presences. Lord Bowen was tall and well-built even as the lines around his eyes showed his age. He was what Sloane should have been.
Thane glared at the empty throne, at his father’s resigned face, and then at Aengus grinning broadly. “I had hoped the guards were wrong, but it looks as though I thought too highly of you. This is a coup. This is treason, and I will not stand for it, Mother.”
“Thane,” Lord Bowen said in a calm voice, laying a steady hand on Thane’s arm. “Hold on now. Certainly there is an explanation that makes sense. Surely our dear High Queen would not steal my brother’s throne from him?”
Imogen just ignored him.
“It is not your decision, Thane,” she said crisply, though an ache filled her heart at the hatred churning through her son’s eyes. He would never forgive her for this, but she was only doing what was best for both him and the realm at large. She was trying tosavehim, if only from himself. One day, he would see. “Your father has abdicated the throne.”
“That is a lie,” Thane said through gritted teeth. “Father would never abdicate. He loves this realm and our people.”
Imogen fought back the urge to snort at that. Poor Thane. He always believed the best of people, but he had never been more wrong. Sloane did not care about the low fae. He was ready to end the war, sacrificing them all to the hands of the gruesome Wood Court and their monstrous High King who delved in dark things. She would never allow that to happen.
“I cannot lie,” Imogen declared. “Ask him yourself.”
Thane shook off Lord Bowen’s hand and strode up the steps to the stone dais. He took his father’s weathered hands in his. “Father. What are you doing? You cannot step down. The throne is yours until the day you die.”
Sloane sighed and patted Thane’s hands. “I am sorry, my son. The throne was never mine to have forever. It is your mother’s now.”
“What?” Shock flickered across Thane’s face. “You do not wish for me to rule?”
“One day, Thane.” Sloane shook his head. “One day. For now, we have a High Queen Mother. She has ruled by my side for a century, and this will keep the realm at peace while war threatens to kill us all.”
“But…” Thane’s eyes went wide, and he stumbled back. “You cannot do this. Youcannot.”
