Page 9 of Brutal Fae King (Dark Faevea King #1)

The moonlight drips in through the bars of the tiny window in my cell. It paints a large streak of bright white light through the cobbled stones of my dungeon. It’s soft and velvety, which doesn’t match the vortex of emotions in my heart right now.

My family is not my family…

I stare at the moonbeam on the floor, lighting up the hideous stone floor. For once, I don’t care that I’m back in the dungeon. My head’s too full to worry about small things like that right now.

I’m the Queen of Faevea… How am I supposed to be? I’ve never been into politics in any way! Am I supposed to be making large decisions for the entire country? I just want to go home to Maribelle!

But she’s not even my sister, is she? I’m adopted…

Oh, gods! I can’t…

I cover my face and sob a little. It doesn’t even matter though, does it? She could already be dead from Weeping Fever, just like everyone else in my life…

But what if she’s not? What if… ?

It tears me up that I’m never going to get to go home. Knowing she died from the Weeping Fever is one thing—that’d be tragic, and the grief would destroy me, but never knowing… that’d be so much worse. So much worse.

If I could just go home and check… then things would be better, I’m sure. Even if I was still trapped here ultimately, I’d be able to accept it better if I was able to at least see her once. Even being forced to be queen would not be so terrible if I could just-

Wait…

I look around myself, sitting in the dungeon; the realization has hit me like a wild horse.

I’m the Queen! What am I doing in the dungeon?!

I stand up.

The witch declared that I was Queen! That outranks even the King! I shouldn’t be spending my time in the dungeon!

In fact, it goes further than that, doesn’t it? If I’m the rightful heir, with even more claim to the throne than the king himself, and the fate of the kingdom rests on me being here, then I can use that as leverage. After all, he’s been ruling the kingdom, and I’m sure he wants to keep it that way. I’m sure he doesn’t want someone to just walk in and legally usurp him—like I could. That would throw a wrench into any of his plans. I could make all kinds of demands of him, and he’d just have to do it.

I feel a cold shiver when I realize just how much power I have. If I can just spread the word about me being the Queen, I would have the king—and Faevea—in my palms.

I smirk and walk to my bars to wait. They usually come in soon to give me my evening meal.

It doesn’t take long before the guard walks in, giving me a respectful nod as they walk in.

They walk over and reach the little sliding grate. Just as they’re about to slide it open, I say:

“Actually, I’ll take my dinner in the dining room this evening.”

The guard looks at me. They pause for a long moment before breaking out into low laughter. I start laughing as well before I reiterate.

“I’m not joking,” I say. “Tell the king I will take my supper in the dining room.”

The guard looks unsurely at me, and I nod at him with a pointed smile. They take my dinner back with them as they walk back out of the cell again.

I sit down in the pile of hay in the cell and wait.

My mind is wandering when the same guard walks back in. I can’t see their face, but the way that they’re walking signals bemusement.

“Er, the dining room is prepared for you,” they say, that same bemusement clear in their voice as well.

I nod my head, smiling softly.

“Thank you very much.”

***

The dining room is glorious—I’ve only ever been here to polish the furniture. Now that I’m here as a guest, it’s like night and day. The gigantic dining room table, with enough room for two dozen people to sit and eat there, my meal sat at the head of the table. It’s laid out perfectly, with many varieties of cutlery placed on either side, and my water poured into a champagne flute.

It’s the same food I’m served in the dungeon, but set perfectly. When I walk in, accompanied by the same guard, they pull out my chair for me.

“Thank you,” I tell them politely.

They walk backward and wait by the wall, still watching me as they used to in the dungeons. I don’t know whether they’re there as a formality or whether the king genuinely thinks I’m going to use this as a time to escape, but I don’t protest.

After all, the fact that I’m here in the dining room to begin with shows he understands what the situation is.

I smile and nod to the guard, grin to myself, and pick up a dainty spoon to start eating my gruel.

***

I’m finished with my meal, and the guard is removing my bowl from in front of me when the door slams open—in the entitled and unabashed way that can only come from the king. I’m not surprised when I turn around and see him. He glowers at me and then looks at the guard.

“Leave us.”

The guard bows lightly and then scurries out of the room. The king closes the door after him, then looks at me.

“So,” he says. “I take it you’re making yourself comfortable?”

“I am,” I reply, picking up my champagne flute and twirling it. “I’m glad you’re here; we have some things to discuss, I’m sure you’re aware.”

He growls and then walks over to the table. He pulls out the chair next to mine and galumphs down upon it.

“I will ask this one more time, and I expect an answer,” he grunts. “What are your plans with Faevea?”

I put my spoon down.

“And I’ll tell you again, and maybe this time you’ll believe me. I don’t have any plans for Faevea. However, ” I smirk. “I don’t think you want that to change, do you? Because now I know I’m queen, and it’s been confirmed by the witch, any plans I do make are going to have to be carried out, aren’t they? If you fight me on these things, it’s going to get messy very quickly and—I’ll ensure—very publicly.”

His mouth purses and twists in irritation. He doesn’t say anything.

“I know I am the rightful heir,” I say. “The witch told me everything.”

“Damn that witch…” He growls quietly to himself for a moment before he looks up at me. “If you have no plans for Faevea, then what do you want?”

I shove my chair out and face him fully.

“I know I can’t leave here,” I say. “I’m not looking to destroy the kingdom, and I’m not looking to sweep it out from under you and rule it, either.”

He leans back in surprise slightly.

“But,” I say. “I’m not staying in the dungeon anymore, and I’m not abiding by the treatment you’ve been putting me under anymore.”

I lean back in my chair, picking up my champagne flute of water and swirling it lightly.

“Things are going to have to change,” I reply smugly. “If I’m a queen, you’re going to start treating me as such, or I’ll make it happen.”

He suddenly surges toward me. I blink and lean back. When I open my eyes, he’s perhaps an inch from my face, those sharp eyes burning into mine.

“You truly think it’s that easy?” he growls lightly. “You think bloodline alone makes you queen? You think you can wear the crown without consequences like that?”

I can smell his scent. It’s a rich, earthy musk, like sweet bark. I… like breathing it in. Shivers start rattling up and down me. It takes me a second to realize I’m just sitting in the chair, breathing him in—I need to answer.

“By law, I can,” I reply.

He gives a little growl at the back of his throat before he answers.

“By law, you can,” he agrees. “But you think you are owed the treatment of a queen for simply arriving here as part of a bloodline?”

I grin at him.

“You can’t threaten me anymore,” I answer. “I know you can’t do anything. You can’t kill me, lest the kingdom be destroyed. You can’t send me away, or the kingdom will fall, too. If you go back to treating me like a servant, I will make it known that I am the true queen, and you are the usurper. You know, with the witch attesting, they’d believe me over you. You can’t do anything.”

He leans down toward me. I can feel his body heat. His nose practically touches mine.

“Don’t try me,” he murmurs throatily. “There’s still plenty I could do to you.”

A deep shiver tremors up my spine.

“I’m not scared of you,” I answer quietly.

He gives a light purr at the back of his throat. Those sharp eyes survey me, moving slowly from my eyes… down my nose… my mouth. His own lips part for a second—I realize I’m staring at his mouth.

“You shouldn’t underestimate me,” he breathes. “You aren’t the first to try manipulating me.”

I don’t reply—my heart is pounding hard in my chest. I’m breathing hard, and every breath is filled with his earthy scent.

He suddenly pulls away from me and sits back down into his own chair—there’s a certain unsettled haste to the motion.

“I am within my right,” I reply. “And it won’t take much to make me satisfied. This doesn’t have to be so uncomfortable for both of us. You just do not have any right to dominate the way you have been doing.”

He stares at me for a moment, then he half smirks.

“We’ll see,” he says. “I’ll concede at least that this can be easy, or this can be difficult. If you are going to be agreeable, then this doesn’t have to be uncomfortable.”

I sneer.

“If I am agreeable?” I snap. “I’m the one who hasn’t been agreeable in your mind?!”

He fully smirks—triumphantly.

He’s trying to get under your skin! Don’t let him!

“Fine,” I growl. “I shall be agreeable if you will also be agreeable. ”

He chuckles.

“I am not going back to the dungeon,” I say firmly.

“Very well,” he replies. “We shall have a room set up.”

“I expect better food, and to be allowed to eat at a table.”

“I can agree to that,” he says.

“And I want to see my sister back in Thawallow.”

“No,” he says firmly.

It's so sudden, so firm, that it strikes me dumb for a moment.

“Wh-what?!” I demand. “Why not?!”

The smirk has fallen from his face. The eyes are sharp again.

“You leaving the castle is not an option; it’s non-negotiable.”

“Why not?!” I repeat.

“If you are not aiming to sweep the kingdom out from under me and rule it in my stead, then you have no need to know such things,” he replies sharply.

I feel my nose crinkle in disgust.

“All I want to do is see my sister!” I reply. “This has nothing to do with politics of any kind!”

“It does. You are the lost queen—as you continue to remind me,” he says. “Do you have the slightest idea what the world is like out there? What ne’er-do-wells and other scum would do with the lost queen if they found her?”

I huff.

“I lived my entire life in Thawallow, and I was fine.”

“Eyston is not like your tiny village!” he snaps. “Life is different here.”

“I still don’t see why I cannot see Maribelle!” I clap back.

The false king glares at me for a long moment. He scours my eyes as he glowers at me. I don’t let up on my return gaze.

“Fine!” he says, slapping the armrests and standing up. “Get up.”

I go cold.

“What? Where are we going?”

“Outside,” he says. “If I cannot convince you, then come see for yourself.”