Page 20 of Brutal Fae King (Dark Faevea King #1)

The wind rips my hair around my face as I look over the battlements. It’s like the weather itself has picked up on the prickling tension, blowing icy pricks of rain into my skin. The army has been making steady progress into the castle town, but they don’t seem to have interest in the townsfolk, at least.

They are walking toward us with purpose. They are aiming for the gate, and nothing else will suffice.

I lean back and scan my eyes over my meager army. More like a gathering, and I’m not sure any of them have ever seen battle before. Many of them are younger. Some shake with their bows in hand. Our best are in Murbyn Bridge, and I’m sure Dralis knows that.

I’ve placed the magic users around the crucial places in the battlements. They, too, are the lesser ones, the leftovers, and the spell I’ve taught them is surely above their skill sets.

But if we’re to survive this, then they are going to have to cast beyond their station. Everyone is going to have to perform above their skill sets if we are to have a chance.

But I have to make it back. I have to make it back for Ebelor.

“Hold steady,” I tell them. “We have a plan. If we keep to it, we should be fine.”

They speak as one: “Yes, Sire!”

I look down the battlements. The army’s coming close. They’re almost here.

“Hold steady,” I say again.

The army shakes next to me. A few more minutes, and they’re at our gates. They have a battering ram, and they take it to the door. Before they can even swing it once, I turn and call:

“Oil! NOW!”

“Sire!”

A pair of guards take hold of the handles on the side of the boiling oil pot and heave. It creaks and then tips over. A golden waterfall tips from the top of the container, the flush of heat hitting me even as far away as I am. I don’t watch—I hear the cries of terror and pain under us all. When I look down next, they’ve scattered away from the door of the keep.

“Archers, fire!” I roar.

All of the soldiers pull back their arrows and fire. Before I can see the effect it has on the battle, I see a dot hovering up on the horizon, shining purple in the sunlight.

There he is…

I look at the guard standing next to me.

“Give the order to the magic users. I have to face him.”

“E-even if it locks you out?” he asks.

“Don’t question me,” I snap. “And give the order.”

“Yes, Sire.”

I draw my sword and spread my wings. With one powerful beat, I’m soaring into the skies. He approaches me, mirroring me exactly. He twirls his thin, rapier-style sword, eyes fixed on me. At first, he just keeps circling me perfectly. I ready my sword, but I keep waiting. Whatever he does, I’m going to counter it…

A pulse of magic crashes behind me, and Dralis’s eyes dart up over my shoulder.

“A shield like that?” he asks. “I didn’t know you had mages like that left in the castle. Unless…” His mocking gaze moves down to me. “…you’re risking the lives of so many young mages by giving them a spell too large for them.”

I don’t rise to his bait.

“What are you doing here, Dralis?” I ask.

He gives a single bitter laugh.

“I wouldn’t have thought I’d have to spell it out to you, Vicmar. Especially considering I brought my whole army.”

“You wouldn’t have had to!” I plead to him. “There would have been no need for an army! ”

He doesn’t say anything. I fly closer to him.

“Dralis, you could have been king too!” I insist. “You could have been king alongside me! Why has it come to this?! Tell me!”

His mocking edge leaves his expression, but so does all signs of a smile. There’s nothing but bitterness left in his sneering face.

“Are you still referencing that stupid pact we made when we were children?” he asks.

“Yes, I am!” I snap. “I meant it! I meant every word! I knew it was unjust for our parents to push you out from ascending to the throne—that’s why I promised you that we’d rule together when I did! The title was right there for you!” I sweep a hand down, gesturing to both armies clashing below us. “Why all of this?!”

Dralis growls at the back of his throat, then points his sword at me.

“ Your parents!” he snarls.

“What?!” I snap back.

“They were not our parents; they were your parents!” he says.

“We share a mother, and my father raised you from a baby,” I counter. “What more do they need to do for you to consider them parents?!”

Dralis scoffs.

“Of course you would think that! Why would the golden boy notice these things?” he mutters, half to himself.

“What things?”

Dralis looks at me sharply.

“Vicmar, your parents made it extremely clear that I was an unwelcome child,” he growls. “It wasn’t just pushing me out from being in line from the throne. It was what they called me. It was how they looked at me. I was the son of the tyrant, a dirty mongrel breed, and they made it clear that life would be easier if I wasn’t there.”

I feel myself curl up a little bit as hot, sticky guilt crawls throughout my body.

“I did notice,” I admit. “I know they didn’t treat you well.” I suck in another deep breath. “But we’re not children anymore. Our parents aren’t even here. It’s just us now. Things should be different.”

“Yes,” Dralis snarls. He starts circling me again. “Things should be different, shouldn’t they, Vicmar? And yet Faevea is still as terrible as it ever was.”

“Dralis—”

“Faevea is still as terrible as it ever was!” Dralis repeats in a roar. “You have changed nothing! You have helped nothing! You are ruling this land as your parents did, and you promised that you wouldn’t!”

“Things…” I start, then sigh. “Things were harder to maneuver than I thought. It was—”

“We are too old for these kinds of excuses,” Dralis growls. “You’ve had long enough to prove to me you’re different from our parents, and you are not. It seems you’re destined to rule like they did.” He points his sword at me. “And I am destined to be a tyrant like my father was.”

“Dralis—”

He pulls his sword back, and crackling power shimmers up and down his sword. I thrust my palm forward, and a magical shield blocks his attack. Once I look back up, he’s gone.

I blink and extend my awareness around me—I sense his aura behind me, pulling back.

I spin, holding my blade up in a block. His sword clashes against mine, and Dralis then pulls back and thrusts toward me. I beat my wings hard and fly above him. I can see him recoiling from how hard he thrust forward.

Now would be the time to strike.

Except… I hesitate. As the time comes and passes, all I do is put some distance between him and me.

Damn it, damn it! What was the point of trying to be the Cruel King when I can’t even strike the one person I have to?!

As he readies himself again, a sneer breaks his expression: “You’re a coward, Vicmar!”

He charges toward me, and I brace myself. As he gets close, he swings his sword in a horizontal strike. I hit my blade and parry it away. I thrust a kick into his chest, and he freefalls for a moment before swooping back toward me. He dives like a hawk, and a glint of blade flickers over my eye. I swing up my own sword instinctively. Metal clangs, but pain scatters over my forehead. I cry out. I flap my wings and force myself backward. Blood red fills my vision, and I blink, clearing the sanguine out of my eye. Dralis is coming toward me. I swing blindly, and my blade meets resistance. My brother screams. But I see a gleam of movement in front of my gaze.

Pain bursts through my stomach, a blinding white-hot agony, cracking up and down my body. Shuddering up and down my spine. Everything spins. I’m screaming. Blood pours down my legs. Weightlessness begins to take me; my wings can’t carry me anymore.

I’m falling. Screaming. I can barely see, but I open my eyes. Dralis flies over me, watching me fall with a smirk on his face. He draws back his sword and aims it down. Just as it looks like he’s about to drop it, a crash echoes through the skies. There’s a flash over my vision. A few moments later, a boom deafens me.

Dralis is falling. He’s arched in pain, starting to fall through the air. Then, another one. I see it better, forcing my eyes open this time. It’s a lightning bolt. It targets Dralis, cracking into his body. This time, when it hits, he goes plummeting.

More lightning strikes. More screaming around me.

But it’s all fading… Fading…

It disappears as I continue to fall.