Even in retreat she had looked at me with that cold defiant glare – unyielding and unafraid– It had been infuriating. Yet she had intrigued me, the burn on her throat had caught my attention.
The scar had been angry, raw as though it still burnt with the fire that had caused it. It suited her, rage-filled and unrepentant. I had almost asked her about it.
Almost.
A King should not concern himself with the punishments of a slave. Whatever she had done to earn such a brand, was not my burden to unravel. I should not care.
I sat back against the cold embrace of my throne. Taking a moment to admire the silence that filled the room once more. I had preferred it this way for as long as I could remember. No nobles whispering false flattery, no council demanding attention.
The throne cradled me as it always had. Rumour claimed it had been carved from the bones of my ancestors’ enemies and fused with magic. It had never been comfortable to sit on, it was not meant to be. A King should never forget the cost that came with his crown.
Tonight, that discomfort had felt worse. Too narrow. The back was too tight across my shoulders. As if it were quietly questioning whether I was meant to sit upon it at all.
I flexed my fingers against the armrest and found my hand still curled, my knuckles white with tension. As if it expected to have something trapped within its grasp.
The thought that came next was unbidden. If my hand had found Elara’s throat there, would I have tightened my grip? Or would I have given her comfort?
I would not touch her. I would never touch her.
I had told her my people would not harm her. The promise had left my lips before reason could temper it. I had not made such an impulsive decision in years. Yet today I made several.
The first had been purchasing her.
A thin crack split beneath my fingertips. I glanced down to find spiderweb fractures marring the black stone beneath my palm. Shadows seeped from the fissures, thin and curious. They coiled around my wrist before dissolving as I forced my hand to unclench.
“Pathetic,” I muttered intothe empty hall.
I was King of the Fae. My displeasure could topple a court. My wrath would unmake armies. I had broken alliances with a wave of my hand and watched rulers bow beneath my silence.
Yet, one human girl refuses to kneel, and I am reduced to a boy, coveting something I cannot claim. Demanding a toy that was not mine to play with.
The chamber did not argue with me. Instead, the shadows along the vaulted ceiling thickened, drawn to my own unrest. The castle responded to whomever sat on its throne. Under my magic it had grown colder, darker. The stone drank in the light and turned my kingdom into a land of shadows.
Under my brother, the throne had shimmered like storm clouds lit by summer lightning. Gold had danced along the corridors, laughter had carried where now only echoes lingered.
My brother, Averan, had ruled in warmth. I ruled in shadow. That was because my brother was dead, and I was to blame.
I drew in a slow breath, using my teeth to pull my lip ring into my mouth.. Grounding myself with the sharp taste of metal, it bent faintly beneath the pressure. If I kept this up, I would need to replace it before the next moon. I could already feel the metal morphing under the weight of my teeth.
It was not the human who unsettled me, I told myself. It was what she represented.Defiance. Choice.
She had mocked me with that exaggerated curtsey, and I should have punished her for it. Forced her to kneel until her pride cracked and spilled at my feet. Instead, I had offered her the one thing slaves like her whispered of in their sleep...
Freedom.
The word lingered in my mind like a curse. It was not just slaves who dreamt of living in freedom. Sometimes kings did too.
Pushing the thought to the back of my mind, I sat back. If she was successful, I would keep my word. I always did. Elara would earn her freedom if she did as I asked.
I hoped she earnt it quickly and would be gone from my life. The harsher part of me knew it was the safest option for us both. I had enough fractures within my own foundation without potentially inviting another to the mix.
My gaze moved over to the far corner of the hall, where the war table waited. Beckoning me as always. A slab of black stone, inlaid with silver lines that mapped every border of my realm and those beyond it.
Strategy was how I chose to run my kingdom, and the presence of the map in the throne room cemented that into everyone's mind. I was not living for music or laughter. In my soul I knew I needed revenge.
I rose and crossed the room, each step causing the thoughts of Elara to dull in my mind. Crushed beneath the weight of far more pressingmatters. The human was trivial. My enemies were vast.
Crystal markers glow across the stone, each representing an attack or an assumed threat. There were too many. Far too many. Along Vaetharyn's northeastern border, red stones clustered thick as dried blood. Raids, burned villages, people who had suddenly vanished only to be found drained of blood. That signature was unmistakable. Noctharis. The vampires and their pets had been more active this year than they had in the previous six.
