Page 15 of Brutal Fae King (Dark Faevea King #1)

Dawn has barely broken when the king sends someone to come get me. As a queen, I’ve gotten used to sleeping late and waking later, but suddenly, a guard comes a-knocking far too early.

I blink bleary eyes as I’m led down to the courtyard by Geiton, and the king awaits me in the paved courtyard. He looks to Geiton behind me.

“Leave us,” he grunts.

Geiton bows and then leaves. I scowl; I hate how he treats the castle staff. These are people, ones with lives and interests and names, but they’ve told me how the king has never bothered to learn anything about any one of them. Except for Bruamin, but he’s a special case it seems.

It makes my skin crawl. I was in a lesser position than them a few days ago, and I most definitely don’t deserve to be talked down to like that.

I’m brewing over my words when I look back to him—and then pause.

I realize it’s just him. On a courtyard. Alone with me. With a sword. And a dark gleam in his eye.

Oh… this might have been a mistake.

Another voice counters the first thought. But he can’t kill me! The kingdom will fall!

“Wh-what is this?” I ask. “I thought we were doing training?”

“Yes,” he answers. “But I figured that it’d be better if it was a private session.”

He leans down and picks up the sword by his side.

“You wanted to see what I do.” He tosses the sword from one hand to the other and waves it through the air. “This is what I do.”

He picks up the other sword and makes a motion like he’s trying to toss it to me. I give a shriek and step back. He smirks and then swivels it around until he’s offering me the sword by the handle.

“Wait, already?” I ask. “I’ve never held a sword before!”

“I want to see how you fare,” he says.

He's smirking at me. It’s a power play—it has to be. He wants to see me embarrass myself with this. A sneer pinches up my face. Well, I’ve handled farm tools before. I’m stronger than I look. I’m not going to give him the satisfaction.

I take hold of the end of the handle, and he releases the blade.

CLANG!

It immediately falls to the ground; I had no idea it was so heavy!

“It’s a bastard sword,” he says, smirking. “It’s two-handed.”

“ You’re holding it one-handed!” I protest. “How was I supposed to know?!”

He just chuckles throatily.

“I suppose you wouldn’t,” he purrs. “But I’m a dark fae. We’re stronger. But let us make the odds even.” He changes his grip on his own sword. “En Garde.”

He steps forward, and I give a small shriek, stepping backward, holding the blade defensively in front of my face.

Something cold taps the side of my neck. I realize my eyes are squeezed shut, and I blink them open. His sword rests against my jugular, but he’s holding it carefully, twisting it to the flat of the blade so it doesn’t cut me.

“Shall we try that again?” he asks.

I growl.

“Are you seriously trying to spar with me when I’ve told you I’ve never held a sword before?! ” I snarl.

He backsteps, and his eyes hone in on me again.

“En Garde,” he says again.

He steps forward, and I force myself to keep my eyes open. He’s being slow with it. I swing my own sword down in an axe motion. He switches his grip and holds his blade up to block my strike. My sword clangs against the other one, and I yelp and drop my blade.

“Ow! My hands!”

The shuddering of the impact seemed to crackle through my bones, leaving my hands tingling in pins and needles. He starts cackling. He’s forced to lower his sword, hand on his knees as he laughs.

“I told you!” I snap. “I’ve never done this before!”

“It’s true!” he cackles. “That’s truly as good as you can do!”

He keeps laughing at me. A flare of anger pulses through me, and I hold my sword up.

“En Garde, you bastard!” I snarl.

The king looks at me, and whilst the grin lowers, he just shakes his head and holds his own sword up. I charge forward, and he parries easily. I keep swinging, but he keeps blocking it like it’s nothing. After a while, I’m panting and sweating, and eventually, I swing the sword down in a tired overhead strike. He just blocks it with his sword and then steps forward and grabs my wrists.

“Stop,” he says. “That’s enough.”

“Oh, what?” I challenge. “I’ve embarrassed myself enough?”

“Embarrassed yourself?” he asks, frowning.

“That’s why you did this, isn’t it?” I demand. “You wanted to see me humiliate myself as a power play! You already stole me from my village! Took me from my sister! How much more power do you need? ”

His eyes darken. His grip tightens on my wrist, and his sword bears down on my own. He strides forward, easing me backward a few steps. My back touches the wall.

“I need enough to make sure you couldn’t kill me,” he growls.

He uses his sword to flick my own out of my hand. I just let it fall away.

“If you think I’m trying to kill you, then just let me go home!” I beg. “I’m sure there’s a way we can figure out how to get me home and keep to the prophecy!”

He just leans back a little, frowning in confusion.

“After everything, you’d still rather go home? You just became queen. I thought you were making grand plans with that.”

“Of course I’d rather go home!” I snap back.

“Why?” he asks. “The squadron with the healer arrived this morning. They say Thawallow is a plague-ridden cesspool.”

“It is!” I cry. “But is Maribelle okay?! Please tell me she is all right!”

His eyes soften just a touch.

“Apparently, she ails, but she’s still in the final stages of Weeping Fever—longer than she should be if she was going to die,” he says. “Nothing’s promised, but it’s a good sign she might be on the road to recovery.”

I close my eyes as relief swells in me. I almost sag to the ground—only his hand gripping my wrists keeps me from deflating.

“Truly?” he asks quietly after a moment. “You truly only care about that?”

“Of course I do!” I howl. “ There’s nothing else to care about!”

My gaze snaps back up to him. He’s looking at me with a look in his eyes I’ve never seen before.

“Thawallow is dreadful! The people are vile, it’s riddled with plague, there’s barely enough to eat—and there’s no chance of leaving because you’re too busy surviving day to day! The castle dungeons were better! ” I scream. “Maribelle is the only thing that matters there! The only thing! ”

The king gives me the most sympathetic frown I’ve seen on his face.

“You were happier in the castle dungeons?” he asks.

“I HAVE NEVER BEEN HAPPY ANYWHERE! ” I scream.

I pant for a few moments before I just hang my head. I’m hanging from his hands, still clasped around my wrists. There’s silence for what feels like an eternity.

“So,” he says quietly, so quietly, “you’ve just given up on being happy… because someone else needs you…”

I can’t answer; my eyes are stinging. My throat is wobbling. I just don’t want to cry in front of him.

My hands are suddenly freed.

“I… know how that feels,” he says.

I want to bite back—but I’m still choking down a crying fit. But then I look in his eyes and there is knowing in there.

“It’s hard to be happy when there’s so many people who need you…” He mutters. “And they’re all suffering so much…”

“And you can’t do anything,” I blubber. “No matter what you do, you can’t fix it!”

“But they look to you anyway,” he adds on. “Like you should know what to do, but you can’t help them… and they… they don’t understand why you’re not helping them…”

Maribelle’s watery eyes, brimming with as much fear as leakage from the Weeping Fever, flash behind my eyes. Those eyes… they were begging for help. But what could I do against the plague?

I fold over as the crying fit erupts from me. I howl in the years of misery that have been built up in my heart. The screaming cry that leaves my lips wrenches up from my gut and screeches out into the air.

There’s a clang of metal hitting the floor, and I barely have enough time to look and see the king’s sword abandoned on the ground before his arms close around me.

“I’m sorry, Ebelor,” he says. “It’s a terrible thing to be burdened with. I’m sorry. It’s not your fault.”

Another wave of tears pours from me. My throat is wobbling so much I can barely speak:

“Th-thank you! Thank you! That’s all I’ve ever wanted to hear!”

He pulls me in harder into his chest. He’s warm. He smells incredible—I didn’t realize how incredible until I was crammed so close to his hot skin. Something glimmers from the corner of my eye, and I look over. His wing has folded over the top of my shoulders as well, like a cocoon around me. Somehow, it’s radiating heat as much as the rest of him.

He’s so warm, but he’s in full armor. Is it me? Am I imagining this heat, or… is he so warm that it can radiate all the way through the metal?

The only way to tell would be if he took the armor off…

Heat crawls through my body as well, from the pit of my stomach into my throat. The naughty thought sneaks in before I can stop it—wondering what would happen if he took it all off…

Wait! It hits me like a slap to the face. What am I doing?

I wriggle, and he steps back from me.

It’s like I’m seeing him for the first time. When his face isn’t smirking, sneering, or scowling, he's beautiful. Those eyes are endless, a rich brown that I could lose myself in.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I spent my childhood hearing tales of the usurper queen who would destroy Faevea—I treated you badly because of them. Clearly, you’re not some kind of assassin, and you’ve not done anything worthy of suspicion.”

He looks away, regret filling his beautiful features.

“Bruamin was right, I am paranoid…”

Even pained, that face is so perfect, his strong jaw clenching in stress. Without thought, my hand reaches forward and touches his jaw. He flinches and looks back at me, and I rest my hand on his face. He hesitates before placing his hand on mine.

“Your sister is in the best care in the realm,” he murmurs softly. “You don’t need to worry about her anymore. You can… be happy. If you want.”

My eyes sting again.

“Thank you,” I whisper.

The smallest smile ekes across his face, and then those sweet brown eyes move down to my mouth. I see him look down. Another shiver passes through me. My hands move without my permission—moving from the side of his face to the back of his head. My fingers clench into a fistful of his soft hair. He presses into me again. His arms tighten around me. His mouth-watering scent is filling my head. His eyes are endless, delicately moving from meeting my gaze to looking at my lips and back again. His breath is a little heavier. He leans closer, and the stubble on his face scratches my cheek.

His lips… I start to turn my head. I can feel his jaw moving along mine, waiting until our lips meet. His breath fans out over my neck—I feel like I can feel his heart knocking against the inside of his armor.

My heart is pounding in my chest as well.

It's pounding… hard.

Too hard.

“Wait,” I murmur.

He does. He pauses for a moment. My heart keeps hammering—faster. Faster. My breath is heaving. My head is reeling. My face is flushing. My body is hot. Heat is pulsing up and down my body, scalding me from the inside. Finally, I recognize it.

It's… magic.

And I can’t control it!

“G-Get away!”

“Ebelor? What’s wrong?!”

I stumble back away from him and hit the wall. I start to fall, and he grabs my arm and steadies me.

There’s too much crackling lightning inside me. I’ve never felt anything like it—it’s scaring me.

“Ebelor, tell me what’s happening!” h e demands.

I open my eyes, and as he looks at me, his own eyes widen.

“Ebelor…”

“Vic—”

Lightning crashes out from my body. It explodes, crackling around everywhere. Windows smash around me. Rocks crack and hit the floor with heavy thuds. My vision flashes white. My scream of agony and exertion is lost in the noise of the lightning.

Then… it’s gone.

My eyes have rolled into the back of my head. My knees hit the floor heavily, my bones shuddering as I land. My head’s still whirring, but I force myself to blink. My vision comes back, wavering as if we’re underwater.

I can see him. With a gentle purple sheen around him, coming from his extended palm. I can only see his outline and watery colors. But he lowers his arm, and the purple forcefield vanishes.

“Ebelor!” His voice sounds like it’s coming from the bottom of a well.

“Th-thank… the gods… You’re… safe… Vic…mar…” I gasp.

My vision starts fading to black. The last thing I see is him breaking out into a sprint toward me.