Ch. 2: The Fae King

LORCAN

I suppress a smirk as I approach my brother. “I didn’t know being a pervert was your part-time job, Fennic.”

His eyes snap to mine, widening with the guilt of being caught. Just as quickly, he schools his face into neutrality and throws me one of his dismissive waves. “I was not perving.”

“You were staring rather intently at my fiance’s best friend, wouldn’t you say?”

His scowl deepens. “What? Am I not allowed to look at women now?”

“I would say it was more of a leer than a look.”

His face glows red. “Piss off, Lorcan. She’s standing out in the open in her underwear. Of course, people are going to look.”

I cast a mild glance around the camp. “Many more Fae are strutting around in their underwear. Why not look at them?”

“What are you suggesting?” he bites off. I smirk at him.

“I think you’re lusting after my fiance’s best friend, brother.”

He bares his teeth at me. “I do not. Like. Magnolia.”

“Mhmm.” I cast a pointed look at his denim jeans, particularly towards his crotch. It looks suspiciously like a bulge. “I’m sure you don’t.”

Nostrils flaring, he shoves me square in the chest and storms away, and I find myself sniggering. It’s nice that Fennic can really touch me now, even if it’s only to push and shove me. It feels like the wall that separated me from him—and from the rest of the world, if I’m honest—is well and truly gone.

I cast my eyes over to Amberly, and I feel my heart melt. All thanks to her.

Eventually, the tents are packed away and our journey to the west resumes. We beat our way along the wide dirt trail that leads to the kingdom, stalking past tall grasses and sprawling fields. I walk beside Amberly the entire time as our court trails behind us. Ever since she’s come back from death, she’s had this glow about her, and I know the other Fae can sense it as well. It’s in the way she holds her head a little higher, the way her strides seem a little more powerful and certain. It makes her easy to gravitate to, to want to follow, and I could ask for no one better to be the lady of my court.

Eventually, the dirt track turns to stone, and a sprawling city of cobblestone and black steel spreads out ahead of us. The palace—dark and foreboding—stands high and mighty above it all, its black spires shooting into the air like rogue spears.

A lump of nervousness forms in my throat as we draw near. I sense everyone else in the party tensing as well, especially as we enter the cobble streets and the townpeoples’ eyes stick to us like glue.

Amberly grips my hand and shoots me a reassuring smile.

“It’ll be okay, Lorcan,” she whispers, low enough so no one else will hear. I cut her a secretive smile.

“I know it will. And as I said, if he gives us any trouble, I’ll kill him myself.”

“It won’t come to that. I’m a Lightweaver, remember? There is literally a god living inside me. I doubt the king will hurt me now, unless he wishes to upset the Lion.”

But that gives me no comfort. Amberly told me of her predicament—that she has no access to the Lion or her light magic at the moment, that she’ll have to work to gain them back, and even though it’s only been three days since then, she’s not had much luck so far. There will be no way of proving to the king that she is a Lightweaver, other than the word of everyone who witnessed the death of the Witch Queen. That is, me and my people.

I steel myself. There is a chance the king will try to incarcerate Amberly, and it will be up to me to stop him. Or worse—order her execution.

But it won’t come to that. I won’t let him. Nobody is taking my lionheart from me ever again. And if the king wants to find out just how much my strength has replenished in these last three days, then he can be my damn fucking guest.

We continue our march through the city until the imposing stone walls surrounding the palace climb high above us and the moat’s distant glimmer becomes a wide and certain barrier at our feet. We watch the infamous black drawbridge lower, and as the palace’s front comes into full view I feel my heart start to pound.

There it is, the Fae Kingdom, and within it awaits the king who will decide our fate.

Once the drawbridge is secured, we all march across it onto the white gravel path that cuts through the royal gardens.

Despite the dark and imposing nature of the palace itself, the gardens are rather vibrant with their violet tulips and flaming marigolds. Among them stand onyx sculptures depicting kings and queens of the past—Nightweavers with their wings spread wide and silver crowns adorning their heads.

None of their faces look remotely related, which makes sense. The Crown is not passed by blood, but rather to whoever is willing to spill it.

Be it woman or man, any Nightweaver lording over a court can challenge the ruling king—or queen—for the Crown in a fight to the death. Should they win, their court will be elevated to the status of Royal Court, while the court belonging to the late monarch will be evicted back to their previous estate and once again become a regular Faerie court.

Right now, the Solstice Court is the Royal Court, and their leader, King Soren Solstice, would have been a lord just like me before he took the Crown and claimed his place as the Fae King.

I can’t recall the last time an Equinox ancestor of mine was king or queen. If I recall correctly, I think maybe my great-great grandmother became the queen for a short time—and her mate the king consort—but that would have been thousands of years ago, if not more.

I look among the statues of the gardens, wondering which one of them is her.

Eventually, I force my eyes up to the grand entrance of the palace—a set of gargantuan silver doors with constellations carved into them. They glint mightily in the sunlight.

As though on cue, the doors are pushed open, and a group of severe-looking Fae emerge from within.

I raise my chin. We come to a halt several yards before the first gleaming step, and the Equinox court stops behind us. I stare at the small group, assessing, searching, until, finally, a man with clear grey eyes and light brown hair steps out.

The king’s seneschal.

“Greetings, Lord Equinox.” He turns to Amberly and dips his chin. “…Lady Equinox.”

She raises her chin with the lioness-like pride I’ve seen a lot of recently. I don’t miss the slight falter in the seneschal’s demeanor as he eyes her, no doubt having heard the rumors, but he hides his slip well by clearing his throat.

“I am Deryth Greybell, the king’s seneschal. I take it you know why you have been summoned?”

I give him a severe nod, and Amberly raises her chin higher. He clears his throat again.

“Because this is a royal sentencing, I ask that there be no talking until we enter the Throne Room.” He looks over to the court behind us. “Is that clear?”

We all nod.

“Come,” he says, spinning on his heel. “Let us go see King Soren.”

I cut a glance to Amberly. Then, we climb the gleaming steps and follow the seneschal and his charges into the palace, the rest of the court trailing behind us.

The moment we step inside, I am immediately hit with the grandness of the palace. I thought the Equinox manor was grand with all its precious metals and gems, but it pales in comparison to this.

The floors themselves are made entirely of diamond. Yes, diamond, clear as water and polished to the point where I can see my own reflection. Underneath it lies an endless expanse of onyx, making me feel as though I am floating above a black pool. The smooth dark marble walls are studded with black diamonds, glinting like stars in my peripheral, and everything else—the tapestries, the ornaments, the trimmings—are made from either silver or gold.

It is as though I am walking through the night sky itself, and it comes to no surprise that the beast within me, the one that yearns for shadow and darkness, shudders in appreciation for the aesthetics.

Certainly, the palace is the perfect domain for a Nightweaver.

My heart pounds as we are taken down several winding corridors, and I take mental notes of the rooms we pass. I’m not familiar with royal palaces, but my father, who always had this strange notion that I would be king someday—and did not take well to me saying I wanted no such thing—made a point of teaching me all the rooms one would find in the Fae Kingdom.

I send up a silent prayer of thanks to my father—the old grouch that he was—for teaching me what I once regarded as useless information. We pass a drawing room, a music room, a picture gallery, another drawing room… I inventory all of them inside my head as we navigate the main corridor. Eventually, it ends at two very imposing, very silver double doors.

Two servants rush to pull them open, and with a loud groan, the doors swing wide. This is the room my father always talked about with a touch of reverence.

The Throne Room.

Pushing out a steadying breath, I grip Amberly’s hand and walk inside. The rest of the court follows.

Immediately, I am aware of all the eyes that are on us. Curious eyes, probing eyes, disdainful eyes. Only people of the Royal Court—the Solstice Court—are present, and it seems a few decades of living in a palace has scrubbed them of their humility. They visually chew us up and spit us out as we make our way into the room’s innards, towards the two imposing thrones at the very back.

One sits empty, and the other—the largest one made entirely from black diamond—is occupied by a black-haired man with bright orange eyes. A silver circlet wrought into constellations sits upon his head, glowing defiantly despite there being little light.

I drop Amberly’s hand and lower myself to one knee, the rest of my court following suit. Amberly hesitates a moment before doing the same, bowing her head in respect.

“Rise,” the Fae King says, and as I do, we immediately lock eyes. Although we could not look more different—him with his lamp-like eyes and me with my emerald ones—there is one glaring similarity between us, one which all Nightweavers share, no matter who they are born to or where they grow up.

Our hair, blacker than the empty space between stars.

Fennic likes to joke that, had I not been born a Nightweaver, my hair would have wound up as red as his. I often shudder at that thought.

“Lord Lorcan Equinox,” the king says, reclining back into his throne. “What an honor it is to finally meet you.”

“It is my pleasure,” I reply in a monotonous voice, careful to keep my features schooled in the perfect picture of neutrality.

The king smirks. Then, his eyes dart to Lionheart, and my entire body goes rigid.

“And you are…?”

“Lady Amberly Equinox, Your Majesty,” she says, dipping into a low curtsey. She does it so perfectly that one would think she was raised in a palace.

His face lights up. “Ah. Our Lightweaver.”

He stands from his throne and swaggers down the steps towards us. It takes every fiber of willpower I have not to claw the king’s eyes out as he takes Amberly’s hand and kisses it, giving her a rather suggestive look that I do not like.

“What an honor it is to meet you, and the Lion.”

“And you, Your Majesty.” She says, removing her hand quite readily from his and taking mine in what is a not-so-subtle show of loyalty. I find myself suppressing a smile. “Unfortunately, I cannot speak for the Lion, as he is currently away.”

The king raises his dark brows, although the hardness in his eyes tells me he did not miss Amberly’s silent gesture. “Away?”

She nods gravely. “I cannot contact him at the moment, or access my light. I will in due time, once I build up my strength, but at this moment both the Lion and my light elude me.”

“So you cannot prove that you are a Lightweaver?”

“In my current state, no, I cannot,” she says quietly. Then she squares her shoulders. “However, I have many eyewitnesses behind me who saw my transformation. They can vouch for its validity.”

“Hm,” is the king’s thoughtful reply. “And I heard you are responsible for the late Witch Queen’s death. Is that correct?”

“Yes, I am,” she confirms. “As we know, she was gifted with indestructibility. I destroyed it with my light and killed her.”

“And you are aware that the Fae Kingdom is in alliance with the Witch Queendom, yes?”

“I’m aware,” she says evenly, and I grip her hand tighter. She raises her chin. “However, I must stress that the Witch Queen betrayed the Fae first. She attacked the Equinox court with a small army of Fae. She also admitted to being behind the conflict in the northern Faelands.”

His brows rise higher. “So you’re saying you’re not the traitor… but she is the traitor?”

Her nod is curt and precise. “That is exactly right, Your Majesty.”

He stares at her for several long moments, weighing, assessing. “And what evidence do you have of her treason, Lady Equinox?”

Amberly pales slightly. “Well…” She turns back to the Equinox Court, all of whom stare at her intently. “I have many witnesses to back up my claims.”

“Accounts from the people of your own court, I’m afraid, are biased, and do not count,” the king drawls, and I feel my heart sink. “Is there anyone else who can vouch?”

Amberly stares at him. “Well…no…but…”

“Then it is settled,” the king replies simply. My hand drops from Amberly’s in astonishment. “As far as I can see, you killed the late Witch Queen out of cold blood, and that therefore makes you a traitor. There are really no two ways about it.”

Amberly gapes at him, and I sense my court tense. “But… Your Majesty…”

“It has been decided. Lady Amberly Equinox of the Equinox Court, I sentence you to five hundred years imprisonment for treason.