Page 5 of Brutal Fae King (Dark Faevea King #1)

As I mop the floor, my mind keeps whirring. I can’t get last night out of my mind. I hate it, but I can’t stop thinking about the warm skin under my fingers, the peaks and valleys of his body…

Was that his plan? Seduction? I don’t know if that’s what he was planning— he was the one to recoil from my touch in the end, when he… when we…

If his plan was seduction, then I can never fall for it… even if he…

I shake my head. Forget it. Forget him. Concentrate.

I dip the mop into the bucket and then wring it out.

I need to be concentrating on how I can get back to Thawallow…

As I finish wringing the mop out, I look up at the guard nearby. He’s in full armor, so I can’t tell what his expression is, but the helmet is facing my direction. His helmet is always facing my direction—the king doesn’t leave me alone for a moment. If it’s not him in person, then it’s a guard or another member of staff. Just dropping the mop and bolting is not an option.

It seems like he very particularly wants something from me—every time I finish a task, he comes and asks me to tell him what I know. He’ll do it again when I finish mopping here. If I knew what he wanted, I could possibly use it as leverage to get home, but I genuinely don’t know what he wants from me…

The witch said I was a queen. That’s my only clue right now. Me? A queen? It’s ridiculous. I came from the most impoverished, plague-ridden village in the realm—what is queenly about that?

It doesn’t make sense.

As I smear the wet ribbons of material over the floor, I wonder about it. Who could I ask about it? Who would know?

I can’t think of anyone specifically I could speak to. I think my only option there is to talk to… well, everyone.

I nod determinedly to myself and continue my task.

***

“The queen?” Valirey asks. “There’s never been a queen in Eyston Keep.”

She continues cooking for a moment, and I keep dishwashing, but I have to keep asking questions whilst I have the chance; every night, I’m locked up in the dungeon alone, so I have to take the opportunity to ask whilst I have it.

“Are there no tales of a queen? A lost queen, maybe?” I ask.

“I’m not sure why you’re asking.”

“I know it has something to do with why they keep kidnapping humans from around the ice wall,” I answer.

Valirey’s wings give a twitch in time with her cocked eyebrow. She can try to hide it, but I know curiosity when I see it. Many of the other members of staff have asked me a question every now and again about the kidnappings and my visit to the witch.

Apparently, it’s the first time that anyone has survived the visit to the witch…

“There is an old tale,” Valirey answers after a second. “About a lost queen. I don’t know much about it, but apparently, this kingdom is supposed to belong to a queen, not a king.”

“Really?” I ask. “What does that mean? Does the king have an older sister?”

“That’s all I know about it,” Valirey answers. “I don’t care for politics, so I never paid attention to any of that kind of thing.”

“I see.”

“The guards will know more about it,” she says to me. “They’re always so much more involved in politics. I suppose it means more to them who they’ll be working for if our king ever gets overthrown.”

She turns over whatever she has in the pan. Fish, I think.

“Doesn’t matter to the chefs,” she grunts. “Cooking is cooking, no matter who it’s for.”

I look back down to my dish.

“I see…” I murmur. “Well, the guards don’t speak to me. I’ve tried.”

“They’ve likely been ordered not to,” Valirey says.

“Is there anyone else who might know more about this lost queen?” I ask. “Anyone interested in politics amongst the staff?”

“Hold on,” she says. “I know that the guards are curious to speak with you—they want to know about the kidnapping and the witch. All we’d need to do is figure out a time and place for you to meet with them.”

“I can think of one place we could meet,” I say, smiling. “There’s a place where no one else goes…”

***

That evening, my “solitary confinement” cell is filled with guards. But they’re not here to guard me.

“So, you’ve never known why you were kidnapping human women from these villages?” I clarify.

All of the armored guards shake their helmeted heads.

“It didn’t make sense,” one of them grunts. “The humans by the ice wall have never bothered us. They are no threat to the dark fae at all. Yet, we were consistently sent in to take the women from the villages.”

“Who were you looking for?” I ask.

“Any woman of a certain age,” the lead guard says, and the others nod in agreement. “And this age kept changing. When we were first sent away, we were looking for those between the ages of ten and twelve. Then, we were looking for those around eleven and fifteen. Then, the age gap widened, and we were looking for those between ten and fifteen. It just kept growing. At this point, it’s between fifteen and twenty-five.”

I’m twenty-three… Maribelle is about fourteen… would she have been safe if she hadn’t had the Weeping Fever?

“So, it was just an age range?” I ask. “Literally just an age range? No description?”

“None,” the guard answers. “We were just told how old the supposed woman was and told to take them away. We don’t even know what this woman was supposed to have done. So we just had to kidnap these humans and take them to the cells. We didn’t know why.”

I hang my head a little.

“And then,” another chimes in, “we were to bring them to the swirling door and put them inside.”

“What happened then?” I ask. “After you put them inside the door?”

“Nothing,” the same guard answers. “They never come back.”

They all nod solemnly, a row of helmets bobbing away. After that, we fall into silence.

My next question was going to be how many women had gone into that swirling door and not come out again. But I don’t think I want to know. I have this horrible squeezing in the pit of my stomach, and I keep swallowing thickly; it feels like all those women’s blood is on my hands. All those women… and he was searching for me…

“So,” the guard who has taken the lead says, “why were we taking those women? What did you do?”

I shake my head.

“I’m sorry. I don’t know what I did to be taken,” I answer. “I’ve never been in contact with the dark fae. Not once. I’ve lived my entire life in Thawallow with my parents and sister—my parents died of the Weeping Fever when I was fifteen, and Maribelle was six. I had to take care of her, and we’ve been… I don’t know… Surviving ever since. I never even left my village further than the well in the forest—I’ve never been to anywhere else in Faevea. I have no idea what I could possibly done to warrant being kidnapped.”

There’s a rumbling chorus of confused grunts from the guards. They look at each other and I see their wings shimmering as they think.

“Sorry,” I say lightly. “I know you were hoping for more.”

“Well, what happened when you entered the door?” one of the other ones says.

They all nod and lean forward after the question has been posed.

“It was very dark in there—I couldn’t see anything. It was like I’d stepped into the middle of a storm,” I reply. “At first, that is. Then, this… ghost appeared in front of me. She told me that a lot of women couldn’t even lay eyes on her.”

There’s a rumble of interest. They look between each other and then look back at me.

“I don’t know what that means,” I say before they can ask. “But she was already impressed before I even did anything. Then, she handed me a vial of silver liquid and told me to drink it. I don’t know what that was.”

“Probably an iron solution,” one of the guards murmurs. “To make sure you weren’t a dark fae. You had powers, and that’s not something humans are supposed to have.”

I shrug.

“I don’t know,” I say. “I’ve always had them.”

“You shouldn’t,” the guard replies. “It’s just not supposed to happen.”

He's so firm when he answers me that there is no room for argument—facts are facts. At least, as far as he’s concerned.

“What happened next?” another guard asks.

“Oh, yes. She said that I was to drink it, or else the guards outside the room would kill me,” I say. “I figured if it was poisonous, it’d be a quicker death than by the sword, and I didn’t have any hope for escape. So I drank it.”

“Yes? And?”

“It didn’t taste like anything, and it didn’t do anything,” I answer. “Then, she let me leave. The king was waiting outside the door.”

They murmur amongst themselves in amazement.

“That was it…?” I catch one saying. “All this time, and that’s all that went on in there?”

They keep murmuring amongst themselves—in the end, I have to talk over them to make them stop.

“There is also something else!”

They quiet down and look back at me.

“The witch called me queen,” I say. “I don’t know what this means—do any of you know what that means?”

They pause.

“He doesn’t speak of it,” one of the guards says. “But I once overheard him discussing a prophecy with his lord-in-waiting. It involves the lost queen, but I didn’t hear much more than that. My impression was that he was looking for her.”

“Why?” I ask. “Why did he need to find her so badly?”

The guard shakes his head.

“I’m sorry. I don’t know.”

“Oh, okay…” I murmur. “But then, could I talk to his lord-in-waiting about it? Would he talk to me?”

“Bruamin is the most loyal of his servants—he won’t say a word,” one of the guards says. “That’s probably why he tells him.”

“Oh. I see,” I reply.

“But the door can always be summoned again,” a guard suggests suddenly. “If there is a witch in there, then she’s probably the one who gave him the prophecy to begin with. You may be able to talk to her again about this.”

“Wait,” I murmur. “You would do this?”

The guards look between each other. The one who leads speaks up.

“We can’t,” he says. “The king is ruthless—if we help you, then it’ll be our necks.”

I bow my head.

“I wouldn’t have you all risking being killed,” I say. “Thanks for all your help, though.”

“Of course,” the same guard says. “You already know where the door is. We can’t help that. But luckily, you don’t know the spell to summon the door.”

He pulls out a piece of paper and holds it aloft.

“The one written on this piece of paper here. Good thing you don’t know it.”

With that, he simply releases the piece of paper. It flutters to the floor outside of my cell.

“If you knew that,” he continues, “then you’d be able to come and go, seeing the witch whenever you pleased. That would be bad.”

I chuckle.

“Yes, it would be a disaster!” I laugh, reaching out and taking it.

“Well,” the guard continues, “we ought to get back to our duties before the king notices we’re gone.”

They all nod and then turn to walk away.

“Thank you!” I call to their turned backs.

A few of them look around and wave at me, but they walk out quickly. I hide the precious piece of paper in my cleavage, the discomfort drowned out by the spreading warmth of knowing that I have friends willing to help me for the first time in my life.