Page 28 of Brutal Fae King (Dark Faevea King #1)

From the top of my castle, I can see the castle town. Before, I would look down here and despair at the horror I’ve turned Eyston into. There would be constant small fights breaking out down below, Naga and dwarves specifically duking it out for territory within the city. But now, there finally seems to be co-operation down there, different civilians and races finally working together to rebuild what has been destroyed by the battle with Dralis’s army.

Maybe the grand war made the civilians reconsider if they even wanted the territory to begin with—that seems to be the case in Murbyn Bridge; after Dralis’s army marched through them, the other races seemed to have eased up on their pursuit of Eyston, which is good since we have withdrawn our armies from there and wouldn’t be able to defend it if we needed to.

Maybe it might be because of the humans being returned—they’re now finally starting to reach the castle town in droves, and it’s been a more peaceful transition than I could have ever imagined.

They’re all down there right now, sticking to their own communities, rebuilding buildings. Many of my guards are out there, too, handing out resources, and it’s the first time I’ve seen tranquil interactions between them.

Maybe it’s simply having a common enemy that brings the people together. Not the kind of peace I’d strive for, but for now, I relish the quiet out there…

A gentle knock on the door breaks the quiet. I sigh lightly before answering:

“Enter.”

My lord-in-waiting comes in and bows his head.

“Ah, Bruamin,” I say warmly. “Good morn.”

“Good morn, Sire,” he replies, smiling. “You seem in good tempers.”

“Yes, I’d say so,” I say. “Eyston seems quiet this morning. The civilians seem to be calm for… perhaps the first time since my rule.”

“Yes, they’re thankful for the resources being given out, and morale is high after Eyston’s victory,” Bruamin says. “The word of the new queen is spreading too, and they seem excited to have a new monarch.”

I smile bitterly.

“Probably because they despise me so much; any new ruler would be better in their eyes,” I mutter.

“Well, they seem to think these resources being given out are the queen’s doing, which has warmed them to her,” Bruamin says. “Politically speaking, I would encourage this impression. Better for them to think the “Cruel King” has been tamed by the new queen than for them to be antagonistic toward their king for the rest of your rule. We all know what happens to rulers who the civilians grow to hate.”

I give another dry laugh.

“Who’s to say she didn’t anyway?” I mutter to myself.

“Sorry, Sire?”

“Worry not.” I turn fully to face him. “What was it you came to see me about, Bruamin?”

“Ah, yes,” he says, then lowers his voice with a smile. “ She’s here.”

I can’t stop the smile spreading across my face.

“Oh, excellent! ” I begin walking out. “Fetch the queen at once. Don’t tell her precisely way, just tell her I need to see her urgently.”

“At once, Sire.”

I walk down the hallway, and it’s a fight to not break into flying as I go. I’m quite curious to see exactly what she looks like.

Once I get to the foyer of the castle, I see her. She doesn’t look as much like Ebelor as I was imagining—I suppose I was imagining Ebelor as a child, complete with her long brown hair and flinty green eyes, but they look completely different. She has dirty blonde hair, ice-blue eyes, and a completely different bone structure. She looks nothing like Ebelor, but that’s not surprising—I’m just wondering if anyone’s ever thought to mention it to the sisters.

Either way, Maribelle stands in the greeting hall, one arm around her chest and a hand to her mouth, nibbling the tips of her fingers. Her blue eyes are large and watery as they stare unblinkingly. The guards speak softly to her, and they can occasionally get her to look up at them and give a tight smile—perhaps a nod. But that’s about it.

She looks even more like a startled kitten when I approach them, but I smile at them.

“Dronfil,” I say. “I’ll take it from here.”

He bows his head: “Yes, Sire.” Then, he looks to Maribelle. “Things will be fine. I promise.”

They then turn and walk off, clanking as they go. The little girl looks up at me like I’m about to eat her.

“So you would be Maribelle of Thawallow, then?” I ask her gently.

She nods, but it almost appears more like a tremble. Then, she startles and begins to curtsey, her hands visibly shaking as she pulls her filthy dress out for the gesture.

“Oh, no need to worry about formalities like that,” I say, keeping my voice soft. “We’re happy to have you here.”

She nods. A moment of awkward silence rings out.

“I know you’ve been suffering with Weeping Fever—how do you feel now?” I ask

Maribelle nods again. She swallows thrice before she finally croaks her first word to me:

“Better.”

“Good. I’m glad. Did Dr Gracie treat you well?”

Finally, her tense face softens a touch.

“Yes, he was so very kind,” she says. “He gave me blue herbs I’d never heard of before, but everything felt so much better after he did.”

“That’s good,” I say, smiling. “I knew he was the best in his field. If anyone would win the battle with the Weeping Fever, it’d be him.”

Maribelle nods, and then her face drops lightly. She looks frightened again.

“Why… did you do that?” she asks quietly.

I look around. Ebelor’s not here yet.

“I’m sure it’ll make sense soon enough,” I say. “How was the journey down?”

She averts her gaze from me.

“Scary.”

“Yes, I can imagine it was,” I answer. “We would have brought you to the castle earlier, but things were even scarier around here for a while.”

Maribelle looks back at me.

“But why—”

“MARIBELLE!”

Her head snaps around. Mine too. Ebelor is sprinting down from the end of the greeting hall. She has never missed an opportunity to complain about how difficult it is to move in her queenly dresses, but it most certainly doesn’t seem to be hindering her right now. She wooshes toward us, a flurry of emerald green and gold—and it’s all I can do to step back in time because if I don’t, I’m sure I will be knocked down.

“EBELOR!” Maribelle cries out.

She runs back toward Ebelor, and the pair smash into a tight embrace. Ebelor is scream-crying into Maribelle’s hair, and Mari is pressing her face into Ebelor hard. She’s crying now.

“I-I th-thought I’d n-never see you a-again!” Maribelle sobs.

“I was so scared!” Ebelor weeps back. “ I was so scared the Weeping Fever had taken you!”

Maribelle leans back, tears pouring out from her eyes.

“Where were you?!” s he screams.

“I’m sorry, Mari! I’m sorry!” Ebelor cries back. “ I couldn’t come back! I promise I would have if I could!”

Ebelor takes her sister’s face with both hands, pushing up her cheeks. She kisses her forehead, both her cheeks, then her forehead again, then her cheeks—back and forth.

“Ebi!” Maribelle protests, squirming in Ebelor’s grip. “Stop!”

Ebelor chuckles and releases her sister. Finally, she looks at me:

“You did this?” she gasps. “You brought her over here?”

“Of course I did,” I answer. “It’s not right the queen’s sister should be living in poverty.”

Maribelle’s face drops, but Ebelor skips over to me and gives me a kiss.

“Vicmar, thank you! This is wonderful!”

“Queen?! What?!” Maribelle yelps. “What happened?!”

I look to Ebelor.

“I think it’s only right you explain it to her,” I laugh. “Give her the tour, and ask Bruamin to show you to Maribelle’s room when you’re done.”

“My room…” Maribelle says numbly.

I look down at Maribelle.

“I know this is all very strange, but I hope you can come to think of this place as home someday, Maribelle.”

“Th-thank you, Sire,” she says quietly.

“Vicmar, please,” I reply, smiling.

“Vicmar,” she murmurs.

“Come on, Mari,” Ebelor says, walking away with her. “Let us go to the gardens, and I’ll explain on the way. Are you hungry?”

“Yes—is there any food?” Maribelle asks.

Ebelor laughs lightly.

“Oh, there might be some,” she answers.

The pair of them walk far enough away that I can’t pick up their conversation anymore. A significant part of me wants to join them and help explain, but I don’t think that would be welcomed. It’d probably be best if I allow Ebelor to ease Maribelle into this life a little more smoothly. I just hope that Ebelor doesn’t make me sound too terrible.

But just as I begin to turn, a guard half-jogs up to me, pale-faced.

“Sire!”

“What is it, Gargamint?” I ask.

“You’re needed urgently!” he snaps. “Down in the dungeon.”

My heart drops to the ground.

***

After I see it, I can’t blink for a solid minute.

“Sire?” Gargamint asks. “Your orders?”

I swallow a few times before I answer.

“Fetch Bruamin for me,” I order. “Do not tell the queen or her sister about this yet—leave that to me.”

“At once, Sire.”

He leaves, and once I’m alone, I walk slowly into the empty dungeon. The cell door is open, but it’s not been broken into or out of—unlocked by the guards. It’s fairly obvious that the mode of escape was the gigantic hole in the wall of the fortress. The bricks and other debris of the explosion are on the inside—obviously from a force from the outside. Someone broke the wall from the outside.

When I lean down, I pick up one of the other bricks. Purple magic shimmers over the edges of the pieces.

Wow… this is bad. Not only was this non-elemental magic, but this happened recently. So recently that the magical residue hasn’t had time to fade. This should have made a castle shuddering crash, but I suppose someone with non-elemental magic might have used a silencing spell.

But who else has non-elemental magic aside from Dralis and me? Perhaps Ebelor’s lightning counts, but this clearly wasn’t hers.

But who could it be?! Who would have helped Dralis when he’d been abandoned by his god?!

My stomach is churning. I can’t even fully comprehend how bad this is.

Then, I keep looking at the walls of the cell and see something even worse: a message.

The false kingdom and gods of Faevea will fall

When the last of the light leaves the ice wall.

The last of the light… what? What does that mean?

I have never heard of that. We need to start by investigating the ice wall around the human settlements… Maybe Ebelor will know something about it.

I hear some footsteps, and I turn to see Bruamin standing at the top of the stairs. His old face has dropped as he takes it in.

“Oh, no…” He gasps.

I suck in a deep breath and move to him.

“We don’t tell the queen or her sister yet—spread the word amongst the staff,” I tell him in a low voice. “Dralis won’t launch his attack any time soon since he’s still injured, and his army is decimated—but get the mages down here to investigate as soon as you can. We need to know what kind of magic this is and what this message might mean. It’s the only way we’ll know what we should be expecting in the future.”

Bruamin is staring at nothing. After a moment, he shakes himself to awareness.

“Y-yes, Sire,” he murmurs, then pauses before he says. “The queen and princess are in the princess’s room. The queen was asking if… if we could think about throwing a celebration for the arrival of the princess.”

I pause for a moment, then reply.

“Yes. Let us do that,” I answer. “Let us gather what we need for a feast and a ball to celebrate her sister’s arrival.” I hang my head. “Since Dralis has escaped now, the peace we have shan’t last forever. Let them enjoy it whilst they can.”

*****

THE END