Page 17 of Brutal Fae King (Dark Faevea King #1)
I worry last night was a serious lapse in judgment. I don’t know what it was, but those feelings which escaped me as I was speaking to her… I don’t think I’ve ever spoken them aloud to anyone.
And I barely know her…
I am the Cruel King. It’s not just a title; it’s what protects me. Protects us all. People hesitate to start a full-fledged war with a kingdom helmed by a Cruel King. But… that was some serious weakness I revealed to her. It worries me how easily the truth of who I am could be spread.
Is it that? A sudden, pesky, unwanted voice asks, Or is it that you think she thinks less of you for knowing how soft you truly are?
I try to shake the thought away, but it lingers like grease on my mind.
“Vicmar!” she protests. “Are you watching?”
“Yes,” I lie. “I was watching. That was fine.”
“What could I have done better?” she asks.
She swings her sword idly, and whilst the movement of her wrist looks a little more natural than it did even a few hours ago, she still has that stiffness to the motion that says she is a beginner. At least she is getting closer to being able to defend herself if she is ever caught.
But I’ll never let that happen.
I realize I’m still staring at her when she pouts.
“You weren’t watching!” she declares. “You’re supposed to be teaching me, and you aren’t paying attention!”
My first response is a coil of defensiveness through my stomach, but I suck in a breath through my nose. However, last night came to be, Ebelor and I are on good terms—I should not ruin it now.
“Apologies,” I say. “Show me again.”
She gives a growl at the back of her throat, but it is a combination of irritation and exertion as she lifts her sword to the sky. She closes her eyes.
“Find your center,” I tell her firmly. “Don’t fight the power. Channel it. You are its conduit, not its generator; lead it to where you want it to go. Make sure you—”
“I would really prefer it if you stopped talking now,” Ebelor growls.
The shock sparks a small laugh from me.
I can see it in her. I didn’t see it before—it happened too quickly—but I see the glow in her chest, around her heart. That same illuminance ekes out from her heart, into her veins, and I watch the power from the outside.
Control it… control it…
It spreads wider from her heart… out… but then it moves back inward, spreading only to her right arm holding the sword. It travels up her arm, starting to crackle over her skin. But she controls it. It travels up to her palm, and then it hits the sword. As soon as it hits the blade, it starts conducting, the sword turning into a sizzling, illuminated blade of magic.
I look back at her face. It’s creased in pain, sweat dribbling down her face in thick pearls of liquid. Her eyes are still closed.
I look back to the blade. I can see it glowing red hot under the magic flowing through it.
“Fire it!” I bark. “ Don’t let the sword melt!”
At my order, the power explodes out from the end of the sword: KRA-BOOOOM .
The lightning escapes the point of the sword, released into the sky and making its escape. Soon, it dissipates into the perfectly blue sky like it was never there.
Ebelor gasps. Her sword lowers to the floor with a metallic clunk, and she leans on it, panting hard.
I walk over, fetching a potion bottle hanging from my hip and popping the cork as I approach her. Once I get close, I loop an arm around her shoulders and cradle her.
“Here,” I say. “Drink some of this.”
“I don’t need any restoration potion,” she grumbles. “I’ve got a better handle on my powers now—I’m not going to pass out.”
But she’s quivering and sweating in my arms.
“Well, have some, just in case,” I say. “Yes, you’ve got a better handle on them than losing consciousness every time you use them now, but it’s exhausting to use magic as a beginner, and we’ve been practicing all morning.”
She sighs, then allows herself to lean against my arm as I put the teat of the glass bottle to her soft, pink lips. She closes her eyes as she drinks the potion, and I just enjoy the sight of her. Gentle, smooth face, delicate features on her pixie-like face, her petite figure fitting into my arm so perfectly. Her lips suckle on the glass bottle, sucking down the red potion. After a moment, she pulls away and sighs, a small trace smear of red in the corner of her mouth.
I wish I could kiss her to get rid of that.
The urge comes, and I hang my head and clear my throat until it goes again. Since when was I so craven for a woman? Utter insanity.
She stands from my arm, a little more color entering her face again. She gives another sigh, a more satisfied one this time.
“I have to admit,” she laughs breathlessly. “It does help.”
Ebelor stands from me and smiles, bobbing on her toes.
“I feel ready to go again,” she says. “Where’s my sword?”
I laugh lightly. Now, she’s suddenly moved from petite to flinty and strong. Glaring emerald eyes of a lightning warrior.
My queen… That simple phrase suddenly runs through my head, not with dread and a feeling of obligation, but with a huge amount of warmth and pride swelling in my chest.
Suddenly, she turns from grinning determinedly to looking confused over my shoulder. I turn around, and there’s a guard in full armor running toward us, clanking every step of the way.
“Sire!” the guard shouts at the top of his lungs.
“Dronfil?” I hear Ebelor murmur behind me. I’m still impressed she remembers all of their names, let alone their voices when they’re in full armor.
“What is it?” I order.
“Sire, you must come at once!” the guard says. “You need to get to the war room right now! Your war counselors ordered it—they’re already there!”
“For what reason?” I demand. “I did not sanction this!”
“It’s an emergency!” he calls. “Sire, there is an unknown army heading toward Eyston Keep! They’re going to hit the castle town in a matter of minutes!”