Page 44 of A Song of Air (Fae Elementals #4)

O nce upon a time, Weylyn would have bowed and fallen to his knees in fear of the power of the woman before him. He would have let his forehead kiss the ground if only to please her. But that was before. Before everything. Before pain and rage and magic swept him away in a haze of danger and a life not worth living.

Now, those old feelings, pain...rage... inadequacy... It all went rushing to the front of his mind as he was forced to the ground before the Queen of the Unseelie Court. His mother.

His forehead sizzled as it touched the iron on the ground. Beside him, Bryson hissed in pain as it did the same to her. He tried not to struggle. He kept preternaturally still and, using whatever strength he could muster, reached for Bryson’s mind with trembling fingers.

The iron inhibited his magic, and so the words flickered in and out of her mind.

“Be brave, little mate.”

Bryson took a breath to let him know she’d heard.

His insides hollowed out when he flicked his gaze back up again, like the queen had taken a spoon and scooped out his vital organs just for the fun of it. She glared at him like centuries had not passed since that fateful day when everything around them had irrevocably changed.

She still despised him.

And he still despised her.

He could’ve been swallowed up by the infernal depths of her anger in that gaze alone. He hated to get lost in it. Hated the fear that rippled through him. Hated how she reduced him to this.

The leg that was crossed over the other delicately dropped to the floor. He watched as she pushed herself to a stand, stepping down the dais and onto iron in her bare feet. There wasn’t so much as a sizzle or a single wince of pain. In fact, nobody around them appeared to be as affected as he and Bryson were.

“Why have you come back?” his mother demanded. Her feet stopped shy away from his eyes. There were jeers from the crowd around them, from goblins and pixies and Unseelie of all kinds. “I told you what would happen, should you come back. Or have you forgotten?”

He hadn’t.

In fact, he lived with the haunting thought day and night. He had sought his vengeance on it. Had sworn to render the world to ash because of it.

“Remind your wayward brother what the consequences of returning would be, since he seems to have forgotten.” The queen stepped back up to the dais backwards and sat upon the edge of the throne. From behind the grand structure, several more bodies came out of hiding.

Owyn, Rainer, the twins Gwyn and Glyn, and Cassimir joined them at the top as well.

His gaze swept around them.

Each so similar, so different, at least from him.

The queen’s head tilted up, and she smirked down at Weylyn. At her youngest and most hated son. Gold glittered on her body like a second skin painted against her form. Her long tail curled from beneath her, wrapping around her ankle as if for comfort. Long black horns towered over her long, loose hair. Hair that was spun from silk spiderwebs, as dark as the oil night was made of.

A crown of iron and gold sat atop her head.

And each one of his brothers wore smaller crowns to match. Crowns of thorns and gold perched near their horns and dark hair. Some stood in their full Unseelie forms, black claws on display, sharp teeth gnashing, golden eyes blinking, tails swaying.

Weylyn had not inherited a single thing from his mother save her appearance. They all had, but he had no Unseelie features to speak of. It was what made it easier to blend in with the High Fae. It was also what they used against him, time and time again.

Rainer stepped down. His teeth gleamed like they were made of iron and gold. He gnashed them in Weylyn’s direction, brandishing his claws like a threat that Weylyn knew he had every intention of following through with. Rainer’s own hair was spun from oil just like their mother’s, though his curled at the ends, which were dusted in shimmering silver light like the Unseelie who spawned him.

“Let us kill him and be done with it, mother,” Rainer spat. His hatred was a glimmering, poisonous thing. Weylyn did not fear it.

He did not fear any of his siblings, in fact.

No matter how sharp their teeth and claws.

“Why have you returned?” his mother asked, already sounding bored.

Weylyn could not bring himself to respond. Because she would demand truth, twist his words, attempt to pull out deals he had no business making. That was the way of the Unseelie.

It was the way of the royals.

It was the way of himself.

“Speak or I will cut out your tongue for your insolence.”

And likely wear it around her neck, too.

“I stepped into a circle,” he confessed. “It brought me here.”

The court around him cackled at the foolery of his reply. Everyone knew to stay far away from circles because of what kind of magic they carried. But he’d be made to look a fool a thousand times over, if only it kept their attention from Bryson.

“So you came here by accident,” his mother mused, though nothing in her tone was amusing. Venomous, enraged, yes. But nothing else lived in those depths.

“That is what I said, yes.” He lifted his head and swept his gaze around, narrowly avoiding coughing up the blood he felt in the back of his throat. “And I see you have changed decorators. Iron makes for quite the furnishings, yes?”

The queen flicked her clawed fingers on the armrest of her throne. “Insolent as ever.” Then slowly, her stare turned cold in Bryson’s direction.

Weylyn fought to keep a straight face, but the queen was already standing and walking down in their direction. He didn’t make a single move. Not even when the queen dropped to her knees in front of Weylyn’s mate and lifted her chin with hard fingers.

“And who is this little creature?” she purred.

Weylyn wanted to jump between them. To block Bryson from his mother’s sights, but it was already too late.

Bryson’s scarred face was looking directly at the queen, taking in whatever her vision allowed her to see. But she did not reply. She glared defiantly.

The queen smirked at that and leaned forward, pressing her nose to Bryson’s hair. She inhaled deep, a rumble echoing through the chamber of her chest. A moment later, she pulled away and exhaled.

“This Fae reeks of you,” she mused. This time there was humor there as her gaze snapped back and forth between Bryson and Weylyn. “From the stench, I will take a single guess.”

No , Weylyn wanted to snarl. Don’t say it. Don’t say it.

His eyes must have conveyed his wishes, because his mother stared at him and smirked. Like he was a pathetic little prey of an animal she ensnared within her claws and meant to rip apart in a single motion.

“She is your mate, is she not?”

Bryson gave nothing away, but it was too late. Already his mother had seen the truth. Their smells intermingled because of the bond, because of their proximity. And the queen knew. With a single glance, a single whiff, she knew .

There was a hush proceeding her words as the court processed what she’d said. Then, a ripple went through the crowd.

Mate.

Mate.

Mate.

Matematematematematematematematemate—

They chanted the word like a prayer, though to Weylyn it felt more like an omen.

The queen stood to her full height and held up a hand, effectively silencing everyone within seconds. “I have decided,” she said, her voice carrying.

Weylyn’s heart thumped in his chest. Already he was attempting to form a plan in his head, anticipating moves and the strength of those around him. What position to take that would best protect his mate. Or at least give her a fighting chance to escape.

His muscles bunched. His canines snapped out from his gums.

“I have decided to spare Prince Weylyn’s life,” she announced.

His eyebrows flew up as he took in his mother and the cruel way in which she smiled down at Bryson.

“And to celebrate his return, we shall feast tonight. In his honor and in honor of his mate.”

Weylyn did not breathe a sigh of relief because he knew this wasn’t a peace offering. This wasn’t a reprieve. He saw the farce for what it truly was.

The beginning of the fucking end.