Page 13 of Brutal Fae King (Dark Faevea King #1)

My very beautiful bedroom has become a very beautiful prison in a single moment.

I can’t believe the bastard would go that far!

Magically binding me to him?! After I already said I would marry him?!

I didn’t have any intention of leaving the kingdom, or even the castle—I don’t want to be the reason that Faevea falls and hundreds of thousands of people die—it’s just humiliating to be shackled to him in such a way. I went from being the second part of a reluctant deal to a dog on a leash. An equal party to a subservient.

I’m lying face down on the puffed-up, goose feather bed, soaking the pillow with my own tears. I don’t know how long it’s been since the wedding-

Oh, the wedding! The wedding!

I weep even harder.

I’d dreamed of my wedding day, like many little girls had. Back in Thawallow, my life was getting up, taking care of Maribelle, helping on other villagers’ farmlands so that I could earn a few measly scraps of food or old, tattered blankets—hopefully enough for us to live for the evening—and then sleep so I can do it again. Getting married seemed like the most likely way that routine was going to break, that some help was going to enter my life… that I was finally going to be able to rest, at least for a moment. It was also the only day in my life that I was going to be treated like I was special…

No taking care of anyone, no work, and everyone would be happy and celebrating me and my new husband. I’d be in a pretty dress, and there’d be music and dancing, and everyone would be smiling.

But of course… it was merely a dream. It was a beautiful, fragile dream. No man would ever find me attractive. I have nothing to offer, and I am still taking care of my sister. That’s the reality of it, but I was allowed to enjoy my glorious fantasy.

But now… it’s over. There’s no chance I’m ever getting married to a man I love now because I’m already taken by another in a marriage of convenience. Moreover, it’s not even like I can escape this marriage of convenience as soon as I know the kingdom is safe; the spell will kill me if I break my marriage vows, he said—and presumably, the spell will continue until death does us part.

Can the spell be broken? The thought crosses my mind.

I shuffle up to my knees on my bed and think about it.

The witch could certainly do something about it. But would the king know that I’d done something? Would he feel it if I broke our bond together? Or would I be able to do it in secret without him realizing?

Oh, but what’s even the point? I lament. The kingdom will crumble if I leave. There’s no point breaking the bond when I can’t leave without destroying the entire realm.

A little of the shock and grief have washed away in my tears, and angry tears are filling my tears in my place. I was already trapped. I was already forced to be here—why would he do this? Is he that petty? Is he that insecure or impotent? Did he specifically want to humiliate me? Is that why he did this?

I swipe the back of my hand across my eyes.

That’s it, isn’t it? my inner thoughts growl. He wasn’t able to “break me” the way he wanted, so he did all this, didn’t he?

I step out of bed. I suddenly have a wave of inspiration; if I’m married to him, now officially the queen in every undeniable way, I’m going to act like it!

He's going to regret being petty toward me! I can match that kind of pettiness and then some! By the time I’m done, he’ll break the spell himself as soon as the kingdom is safe!

I stride over to my bedroom and throw open the door. The guards behind it startle as the door suddenly whips open behind them.

“Oh-oh! Your Majesty!” one of them says.

“Go to the wine cellar and bring me all the wine! ” I declare. “By order of the queen!”

The pair of them look between each other.

“Wh—all of it?” the other asks quietly.

“Yes!” I order. “And then, gather all your comrades and other staff! We’re having a party in my room!”

“W-wait, the staff are having a party in the queen’s chambers?”

“Yes! Immediately!” I say. “Spread the word. It is my wedding day, after all, so I deserve a celebration!”

“The king will—”

I smirk.

“Have to answer to me, the queen!” I state.

The guards share another look, and then they both bow.

“At once, your Majesty.”

***

My room looks a lot livelier with all the staff inside it. The guards who helped me see the witch to begin with were the first to arrive, even before the wine did. But soon, even staff I’d never seen before came, just out of curiosity. After all, there had never been a party in the castle, let alone one for the staff to attend. They are stiff and uncomfortable at first, but I smile, welcome them with a glass of wine each, and chat with them, and they loosen up after a short while. Soon, the wine flows and everyone in the crowd starts talking, reassuring one another that it’s okay to relax now.

As the atmosphere gets more and more comfortable, a few of the maids start talking to me. They’re fairly curious about my story, too—and as I talk to them about Thawallow, I find myself repeating the same story over and over again to the crowds. Eventually, I’m finishing the tale for the umpteenth time in front of a couple of latecomers.

“—and it turned out the witch wasn’t there to be the witness, but instead, she was there to bind us together with magic.”

“What?” Marya gasps.

“Are you serious?” Dronfil asks, shuffling his guard’s helmet under his arm as he sits down close to me.

“Yes…” I murmur. “Apparently, being married is not enough.”

“It’s because the bastard knows you’re the true queen,” Dronfil growls.

“Yes,” Marya adds. “The Cruel King would do anything to keep his power—we shouldn’t be surprised that he’d do something so vile.”

“He’s the worst,” Dronfil says. “I’m thankful he finally stands to be overthrown—only a shame it’s not by a violent coup.”

They both smile at me.

“I’m sure you’ll do better, Ebelor,” Marya says. “I’m sure someone can break the spell—the witch should be able to.”

I nod.

“The sooner the better. Did you hear about the attack on the Naga that he sanctioned the other day?” Dronfil says, eyes scanning between myself and Marya. “There was a magical assault on the border of Murbyn Bridge—and he just sent a huge beam of magic down on it.”

My memories of Naga come slithering back. The coils, rocking the carriage, wrapping around the carriage like a Kraken sinking a ship, the screaming horses filling my ears.

“M-maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing…” I mutter.

They both stare at me.

“There was almost an entire squadron of soldiers there!” Dronfil protests. “They didn’t have enough time to escape!”

The memories of the Naga still flash in front of my eyes as I answer back:

“But were there a lot of Naga?” I ask quietly.

They look over at me. Dronfil shrugs.

“Of course,” he says. “There was an entire army of them.”

I shudder.

“I don’t know, maybe I don’t blame him,” I say. “I’ve been there when the Naga were there, and they are terrifying. If he’s just trying to keep them from invading the royal city, then… I don’t know.”

“Where were you when the Naga were there?” Marya asks.

“He took me out to the castle town, just outside the keep,” I say. “We got attacked by Naga as we were traveling back.”

“They attacked the carriage?” Dronfil asked. “Really?”

“Yes,” I reply. “He was… familiarizing me with the kingdom when they jumped the carriage. Well, attacked it, I mean.”

I have to break their intense gazes. My hand curls into a loose fist around my chest.

I’m still seeing my memories, and I can see him… Standing tall over me, chest clad in shining armor, so covered yet revealing at the same time. His eyes, searing hot in intensity as he stares out at the enemies around us. His arm was firm as he pulled me to him protectively. His strong, deep voice bellows in my mind: Touch her and die, vermin!

A shiver passes through me.

Marya scoffs.

“I can’t believe the king would take you out of the castle like that!” she says.

“Yes, you need to be careful,” Dronfil grunts. “Make sure he’s not actually trying to kill you.”

He wouldn’t want to kill me—that’ll destroy the entire kingdom. But I don’t say that. For some reason, what comes out of my mouth is:

“He saved my life! He put myself between me and their swords and…” I shrug. “I didn’t expect him to do that.”

They frown at me.

“I don’t know,” I say quickly. “He’s not fully evil. I-I mean, he has his moments, I suppose.”

They just keep staring at me. I’m confused myself—why am I defending him? After everything he’s done?

I’m not sure…

“Well, he’s not the worst out there,” I counter. “Compared to the followers of Mischevil, at least. I mean, he’s not trying to destroy Faevea, at least.”

I only get blank stares in response.

“You know, Mischevil?” I ask. “The king said the leader or at least a very important member of the group was called Dralis?”

The two I’m talking to are looking at me blankly. Dronfil looks over my shoulder:

“Geiton!”

“What?” another guard replies.

“Have you ever heard of Dralis?” he asks.

The other guard frowned.

“Dralis? I don’t think so.”

A similar conversation is going on all around me—between the guards and the maids alike. After a short while, Marya comes back to me.

“I don’t think anyone knows what you’re talking about,” she says. “Was it only the king who told you all that?”

“Yes?” I say it like a question.

“Do you… think he might have lied?” Marya asks quietly. Pointedly.

“I…”

Could… He could have. It wouldn’t be that unbelievable, would it? If he would do all the terrible things that people said he would, why wouldn’t lying to me also be on the list?

I don’t believe it. I don’t want to believe it.

But… why don’t I want to? Why do I want to defend him after everything he’s done?

Suddenly, there’s a chill through the air—not a supernatural chill, but the kind that makes an entire room of happily chatting people stop.

Of course, he was at the door. The king, scouring over the scene with a deep, brooding glower on his face. He looks through the staff relaxing all over my room with a distinct scowl of disapproval, but he doesn’t say anything. I stand and begin striding through the crowds to meet him. When his eyes meet mine, I stare him down.

“It’s my wedding night,” I say coldly. “I thought a celebration was in order. It is a royal wedding, after all.”

He looks across the room again and then returns his gaze to me.

“Good to know you’re having fun on your wedding night,” he says. I can’t even tell if he’s being sarcastic or not.

But he turns around and leaves. The partygoers murmur a little but then look at me. They’re looking at me in total awe.

This is the power I have now. He didn’t make a scene because he knew I could make one, too. And I am the queen…

I smile as he leaves.

I could get used to this.