Page 19 of Brutal Fae King (Dark Faevea King #1)

I keep screaming and crying until my voice cracks, but there are so many people running around that I’m barely heard over the chaos.

Except by the war counselors, that is.

“Please quiet down, Your Highness!”

I pause in my screaming. Once I’ve caught my breath, I snap back:

“Your Highness? So you know I am your rightful queen! Why are you doing this to me?!”

“We were ordered to—”

“I know!” I snarl. “But I have a greater claim to the throne than him! I’m ordering you to stop!”

They pause a little and look at one another. The one I wasn’t speaking to shrugs and answers:

“With all due respect, orders aside, if you die, Your Highness, Faevea dies with you,” he says. “And I don’t want to die.”

“Oh, what a shame,” a new voice suddenly interjects.

The war counselors whip around.

And he’s there. Just as I remember him. White hair and dark eyes, like a living skull. A sexy, crooked smile.

“Dralis!” one of the war counselors snaps—then draws a sword.

Dralis moves faster. One of his hands snaps out, and a pulse of purple power blows both of my escorts down the hall. They crack as they hit the floor again, not uttering a single cry as they tumble.

Then, his hand grabs my wrist like a vice.

“You’re coming with me.”

“No!” I scream. “ I know who you are, and I—”

“I’m not giving you the choice,” he replies before pulling me by the arm.

I tumble forward into a swirling purple vortex. It’s like being pulled into a whirlpool of purple water, but once it flows over me, my consciousness flows away with it.

***

When my consciousness returns, I’m on something furry. Heat radiates from one side, and I recognize the crackling of a fire. I open my eyes and look around.

It’s… home. It’s my home.

I stand up slowly, scanning my eyes over my family home. A simple single-room hut, but warm and smoky. Comforting.

I walk past the large bed, running my fingers over the duvet to get to the window. When I pull the curtain aside, I see Maribelle outside in Thawallow.

“Maribelle!” I gasp to myself.

She’s not just well. She’s glowing. She’s out with other girls in Thawallow, talking and laughing. She has such a warmth on her face.

I drop the curtain and dash over to the door. I whip it open and-

Dralis’s muscular body almost feels the entire doorframe, his pecs just barely visible in a hardly done-up shirt. He walks in, and I back off. My body trembles and the sparks scatter from me. Dralis gives me a sexy little smirk.

Don’t do that… you look too much like Vicmar when you do that.

“This is it, isn’t it?” he purrs.

“This is what?”

“What you want,” he answers, then gestures around him. “Exactly this? Your home, warm and welcoming. Your sister, recovered from Weeping Fever, living her best life.”

I swallow hard. It’s like I can feel his magic already shuddering through my body with every step he takes closer to me. It… throbs.

I drop my gaze from his. I can’t keep staring at those devilishly dark eyes.

“What I want… doesn’t matter,” I murmur. “I have to stay in the castle as the queen, or Faevea falls.” I scowl at him. “And you know that.”

“I know what the rumors are,” Dralis answers back.

He fully steps in and shuts the door. I hear it click in a way it never did before—and I just know it’d be locked if I tried.

“Rumors?” I ask. “You mean the prophecy?”

“Ah, yes,” he purrs. “The prophecy… Enlighten me.”

“It says that I am—”

“No. No second-hand recaps,” Dralis says. He walks over and sits on the end of my bed before looking at me with a knowing smirk. “The whole prophecy. Recite it to me.”

I stare blankly at him for a moment.

“Oh, do you not know the prophecy?” he asks. “Have you just had people assure you that’s what it says?”

I still don’t have the words. Dralis gives a single laugh and looks away.

“Interesting,” he purrs.

“I know what you’re doing,” I say. “And I’m not going to abandon the castle and go back home—or join you in your crusade to destroy Faevea.”

“See, I think this is why we’re setting off on the wrong foot,” Dralis purrs. “Because we have never met. Not truly. Yet you’re looking at me like I’m a villain.”

He pats the side of the bed next to him. I don’t say anything.

“Oh, come now,” he says. “Don’t be standoffish. We should be friends.”

“Why?” I ask.

“Because we have a lot in common,” Dralis answers. “Don’t you think? I would have thought if anyone would understand my point of view, it’d be you, Ebelor. We were both pariahs in our own homes, and people made it very clear that we were not wanted every day of our lives.” His dark eyes somehow darken even more. “And, of course, they only consider us valuable once they know they can take advantage of our powers. For you, of course, it’s the prophecy that makes you valuable. Without it, no one would care about you.”

I try to answer back, but the words catch in my mouth.

He’s right. The softer side of Vicmar aside, he only cares because of the prophecy.

“Of course,” Dralis continues. “I don’t play nicely with people I know are trying to take advantage of me. That’s why I’m a villain to them, Ebelor.”

“You’re trying to destroy Faevea,” I answer. “You and your trickster god.”

“Says who?” he asks. “Says the Cruel King? The one who kidnapped and killed so many women? The one who sits on a stolen throne in a stolen castle and threw the rightful heir in the dungeons?” A smirk twists his lips. “The one who took you from your ailing sister?”

“H-he’s sent healers for her!” I explode. “She’s doing well now!”

“Oh? So you’ve seen her?” Dralis asks. “You’ve seen Maribelle alive and well?”

I pause. He stands and begins walking toward me again. I back away and hit the wall eventually. His hands move out and hit the wall on either side of me, boxing me in.

“He’s been lying to you, Ebelor,” he purrs. “You know he’s a liar. He’s lied about why he kidnapped those women and why you were there—he only conceded when the witch told you beforehand. He bound himself to you without your consent. But you assume he’s telling the truth about your sister? How do you know he hasn’t just told you he sent people and she’s doing well? Have you seen her?”

I look out the window. Dralis takes my chin with his thumb and forefinger and forces me to face him.

“This is a representation of what I could give you,” he purrs. “If you thought it was true, it just tells you I know you well.” Then his face darkens again. “Answer the question: have you seen your sister alive and well?”

“No,” I breathe.

“So how do you know he fulfilled his promise?” Dralis asks.

“I-I…” I hang my head. His fingers drop from my face.

“You want to believe him,” he purrs. “Don’t mistake that for him being truthful.”

A shiver runs through me. He moves even closer to me, his entire arm resting on the wall behind me. His chest almost rests on mine. I open my mouth to answer back—and I’m hit with a mouthful of his scent.

He smells… so much like Vicmar.

The sex last night runs through my mind. A flicker of arousal scatters through my stomach.

Damn him!

“I would never lie to you,” he murmurs, those dark eyes resting on mine.

His presence still throbs through me. I’m panting lightly.

“Then start now,” I whisper. “Why do you want to destroy Faevea?”

“Destroy?” He smirks. “Is that the word you’ve been told? Destroy?”

“Yes.”

He tuts lightly and shakes his head.

“I told you they were liars… I want to change Faevea,” he answers.

“Really?” I say incredulously. “Define change .”

“Well…” he purrs. “I want to change how things are run. Overthrow the Cruel King, bring the humans back into the mainland of Faevea, and improve the living conditions of the average Faevean—just to name a few. I suppose to the pampered ilk in the castle, that would be “destroying Faevea”. It would be destroying their way of life, but I don’t think he should be allowed to slouch on a stolen throne whilst everyone else suffers under pestilence and war.”

“He’s… trying to fix those problems,” I murmur.

“Well, whether he’s incompetent or malicious, Faevea has suffered long enough,” Dralis declares. “It needs a change.”

“And Mischevil?” I ask. “What of your trickster god?”

Dralis flaps a dismissive hand.

“A means to an end,” he says. “After all, when you’re building an army against a king so shockingly cruel, you have to find advantage where you can.”

“Including the lost heir, right?” I ask.

“Of course,” Dralis says. “You are the rightful heir. Your will is what determines Faevea’s fate. Come on, Ebelor. What has he given you? Do you truly have faith he’s not just taking advantage of you, lying to your face, and using you?”

He leans even closer. My breath catches in my throat as I taste him in the air.

“ I’d have let you see your sister. I’d have let you walk freely from the start. I wouldn’t lie to you,” he purrs. “I’d give you anything—because I respect you. He doesn’t.”

I force myself away from those burning dark eyes.

“Well, you’re too late,” I say. “He bound me to him, remember?”

“You think we’d be having this conversation if I couldn’t change that?” Dralis murmurs.

“How?” I ask.

Suddenly, his lips press on mine. I gasp against his mouth, and he forces my mouth open. The softest touch of his tongue tangles on mine. A sharp shudder of pleasure ricochets through me.

He even tastes like Vicmar!

His mouth releases me, lips moving to my jaw and then to my neck. The smallest sting makes me cry out. Then, his lips are at my ear.

“See?” He chuckles darkly. “You’re an adulterous wife. If I remember correctly, he told you that any betrayal against him would kill you both. Another lie.”

“H-how do you know that?” My heart is hammering in my chest, stuttering my speech.

“I have my ways,” he purrs. “The point is that he lied even about the bonds of the spell. You’re not bonded like he told you.”

His hands rest on my hips. The arousal that spikes through me almost feels like pain. One hand drapes down to my inner thigh. The other crawls up my back and presses me into him. His lips plant kisses down my neck. The pleasure is crashing through me. I’m arching. I’m gasping. He starts grasping at me harder. His fingers sink into my skin, and he roughly pulls me into him.

“Let me take you,” he hisses in my ear. “Right here. Right now. And the bond’s broken. You’re free to do whatever you want… be with whoever you want.”

His fingers trail over the inside of my thigh.

Oh! Please! Yes!

I want him to touch my nipples, just like how Vicmar did…

“I can do better than Vicmar,” Dralis chuckles. “You can trust me on that. Just let me take you.”

W-wait…

Then, my heart sinks.

I didn’t say anything. I was so distracted that I let him get so close to me…

I pull away from Dralis. It’s like the spell has just shattered, and for the first time since I’ve been here, I think about everything going on.

I can’t be in Thawallow right now. Maribelle can’t be playing around outside. None of this is real.

Because he’s inside my mind. All of this is inside my mind.

“Now, hold on—” Dralis tries to say, but my thoughts are too loud.

In fact, he’s manipulating me worse than that; he keeps smelling and tasting like Vicmar because he knows he could make me want him like that!

I start pulling away from Dralis—and he grabs me harder.

I try wrenching away. His grip is hurting me now. His fingers sink into the flesh of my thigh and back like he’s sinking his fingers right into soft dough. I can feel myself bruising under his nails.

“Let me go!”

“I can’t do that, Ebelor,” he replies darkly. “If I take you, Faevea is saved.”

Terror prickles over my skin. His fingers push my thigh even harder.

“I thought you would let me move freely!” I shriek in terror. “I thought you respected me!”

A chilling smile crosses his face. His eyes are hollow.

“Well, I guess perhaps both of us brothers are liars,” he murmurs.

I search deep inside myself until my powers coil around like trained snakes. For the first time, I see a little worry in his smug gaze.

“Wait—” he says.

I push the power out. Lightning cracks out from within me, sparking out into the world around me. Dralis cries out. His grip leaves me. But I don’t stop. I force the power out into the world until all I can see is bright light sizzling out into the sky around me. My eyes are blinded by my own magic—but in the crackling shape of my own lightning powers, I see a purple symbol fighting me. It becomes brighter and brighter as I conjure more lightning; the ward fights harder and harder.

No! Get out of here!

I suck in a deep breath and then give one more push. The white lightning gives an even brighter flash and the purple ward breaks.

As soon as it shatters, I feel it. That odd throbbing I remember fades from me. His power—it’s gone.

I clench my fists and my teeth and force the lightning to stop. It’s become more obedient. As the sparking slows down, I see a dark green canopy up above me.

No… not a canopy. It’s material. It’s a tent. I’m lying in a bed, in a tent.

Not where I’m supposed to be!

Exhaustion is beginning to seep into my body, but panic is blotting it out for now; I roll over onto my hands and knees—and I come face to face with a man.

I give a shriek and scuttle back, but he doesn’t move. When I stand, I look around me. There seem to be a lot of guards around me, all of them splayed and unconscious. At least, I hope they’re unconscious…

But as I’m wondering, the sound of battle reaches me. Clashing metal, screaming, roaring of battle cries. I get up and sprint over to the split in the tent, where light is spilling over.

When I burst out, the first thing I see is Eyston Keep on the horizon. There’s an entire army clad in purple, crawling on the stone fortress. There are soldiers at the top of the keep, firing arrows at the attackers. A steaming container rests on top of the keep, and as I watch, the container is tipped over, hitting the army below.

Then, I see a glimmer in the air above my head. I don’t recognize the armor, but the one figure flies on golden wings. A dark fae. Then, a second one rises up from the battlefield, this one clad in purple.

The purple one must be Dralis, and that means the other one should be—

“Vicmar!”

His name wrenches from my lips in a strangled cry. My legs begin springing forward before my brain even has a plan. I have to reach him in time. I have to.