Page 7 of Queen of Ever (Curse of Fate and Fae #2)

Chapter 7

Tarian

W hen I returned to Dreadhold, I was disappointed—if not surprised—to find my mother had decided she’d left me to my own devices for long enough. I’d heard little from her since she’d stolen Imogen’s name from me, which was unusual. Maybe she’d decided she’d caused me enough misery to last for a good while at least and so she thought to let me wallow in it. Whatever the reason, the grace period was over now.

The Unseelie Palace was teeming with courtiers and servants and lesser fae and guards. Usually, I’d stay far away from here on a hearing day. With the prophecy dogging my steps, there was nothing to be gained from mingling with the powerful fae of the High Council. No one was interested in a political alliance with so risky a bet as the prince doomed to bring down the Unseelie throne. But I had been summoned .

I stalked up the steps to the palace with curled shoulders and a glower that sent anyone who happened to be in my path scurrying in another direction. Arun was close on my heels, looking drawn and tense. He’d never been fond of having to watch me be humiliated or tortured. It went against his ethos as someone who was supposed to protect me, but he was just as helpless as I was to defy the Unseelie Queen. I was less conflicted than he was, though, because punishment had long been just another fact of life, something to endure instead of something to avoid. I’d been young when I figured out my mother’s affection was always conditional, and that my nature aligned with displeasing her better than anything else. There had been a time when I’d wanted her approval more than anything, which was why I was in this mess with my fiorainm in the first place. She’d been more cunning than I’d been able to understand as a child, careful to contrast her cruelty with moments of such gentleness and care to keep me always creeping back, willing to do just about anything to be granted another glimpse of her affection. Even giving her the terrible power of my true name.

In any case, the idea of being reprimanded in front of the High Council held no novelty for me. Nor did the anticipation of being tortured before them, which was the likely outcome of this hearing. The location of the hearing was new, though. I allowed myself a smile of grim satisfaction as Arun and I stepped into the hall the queen was now holding court from. It was a fine hall, with its gleaming slate floor and soaring black granite pillars run through with seams of purple quartz. The queen sat on a throne of carved mahogany with enormous, clawed feet and wings fanning out behind her, glittering with a spray of rubies almost the exact same shade as the elaborate gown she wore. But as grand a picture she made, it wasn’t a throne of obsidian, and this wasn’t the real throne room, which had been the seat of power in the Unseelie Kingdom since its formation. There had been no repairing the throne room I’d destroyed when my mother had stolen Imogen’s fiorainm from me. Not because the damage had been too extensive, but because the throne room had sealed itself shut and no attempts to get inside, magic or otherwise, had been successful. It wasn’t a win I’d actually set out to take, but knowing how much Queen Moriana would be seething to be faced with something out of her control within her own palace, I was going to take it as one. I fucking needed a win.

‘You don’t have to stay,’ I said to Arun as he stood beside me, scanning the crowd of courtiers. ‘You could wait outside.’

‘I’m not waiting outside.’

‘I’m not going to get into the kind of trouble you can do anything about in here.’

‘I’m not waiting outside,’ he repeated firmly, to which I just shook my head. I’d told him before it would only please Moriana to know there was someone in the crowd who suffered from watching me suffer, but he seemed to think that knowledge was of more value to me than it was to her. In any case, he shadowed me as I made my way to where Briyala was standing towards the back of the crowd, hands clasped before her, silver head bowed demurely as she waited.

‘Going for contrition?’ I asked dryly.

‘Of course. I don’t have a death wish,’ she replied mildly. Then she looked me over, a frown pulling at her mouth. ‘You look terrible.’

‘Thanks.’

In the centre of the room, a fae lord was on his knees, pleading for his life . The High Council—twelve ancient fae lords and ladies from the most powerful families in the land—sat shadowed behind the queen, bearing witness and holding the law in keep. But the laws governing the monarch of the Unseelie Kingdom were few, and none of them dealt with the manner of punishment meted out to those unfortunate enough to have displeased her. They wouldn’t intervene.

‘If you’re planning some kind of revenge stunt,’ Briyala continued in a whisper, ‘please don’t drag me into it.’

The queen drummed her fingernails on the arm of the throne, one dark brow arched at the man now weeping at the foot of the dais.

‘I’ll try to keep her attention on me,’ I muttered. ‘Shouldn’t be too hard. I was the one who broke the engagement.’

‘But I let you.’

‘Well, I also destroyed her throne room.’

‘Tarian,’ Briyala said, her voice a low warning, eyes flicking over to me again. ‘You’re protected by your rank, but she doesn’t have to tolerate me. Perhaps try to keep from making her any angrier than you have to. You’ve got the look of someone ready to do something self-destructive.’

I didn’t reply to that. The fae on trial was now writhing on the floor, screaming in pain, and a hush fell over the hall as everyone watched. It made me feel faintly nauseous. I knew that feeling only too well.

‘I’m sorry about Imogen,’ Briyala said quietly when the torture finally stopped and the screams died away. ‘I had hoped for a different ending for the two of you.’

‘It isn’t over yet,’ I replied, and she shot me a sharp look, but the queen had risen, ready to announce sentencing, so she said nothing more.

‘I sentence you to a century in the Drowned Keep.’ The sentence echoed through the chamber, and someone in the audience began to sob audibly as the prisoner slumped forwards, head bowed in surrender. The Drowned Keep was a hard sentence for anyone. A prison constructed beneath several kilometres of ocean, those who served a sentence there usually succumbed to illnesses related to the water pressure and lack of sunlight, if the isolation didn’t drive them mad first. It was almost impossible for loved ones to visit, and completely impossible to escape from.

‘As you will it, Your Majesty,’ the High Council chorused in agreement as the prisoner was shackled and led away.

My mother had already moved on before the prisoner had left her sight, letting out a long sigh and pinching her brow as she turned her eyes away, long-suffering victim of the grief she caused others. She looked equally irritated and bored, which was not a good combination for anyone about to be tried. When her gaze fell on me, her mouth twisted in something approximating a smile. She’d found an avenue to vent her displeasure, then.

Beckoning over one of her entourage, she leaned down and murmured something in his ear. He immediately turned and squawked, ‘Crown Prince Tarian Duvain, firstborn son of Queen Moriana Duvain and heir to the Unseelie Throne, step forth for trial.’

Arun stiffened, hand drifting to the hilt of his sword, before dropping away again as he seemed to remember he couldn’t protect me here. A hiss of whispering swirled round me, but the crowd only really perked up a little at the prospect of my eventual torture. It wasn’t anything anyone hadn’t seen before. Barely noteworthy.

‘And Lady Briyala Awenydd,’ the announcer added after a moment, sinking my hope that we’d be heard separately and whatever punishment would be mine alone. Briyala drew a breath and straightened her posture, stepping forwards without hesitation. It jolted me into action to avoid trailing along behind her like a kicked puppy. The crowd parted, letting us through, and the moment she reached the foot of the throne she knelt, neck curved, eyes downturned, long skirt fanned out around her feet, wearing her humility with a grace I envied.

My knees lacked her flexibility. I stood holding the queen’s gaze for a long moment, feeling like a clenched fist, pride and rage wrapped so tightly around me it just about choked the air from my lungs. Magic prickled and twisted in my veins, pushing against the bonds of my control as it fed on my hatred.

The moment stretched. A fingernail tapped out the seconds on the arm of the throne. Almost imperceptibly, Briyala cleared her throat. Please don’t drag me into it , she’d begged.

I knelt.

If the queen was pleased, I couldn’t see it. My eyes were fixed on the stone floor.

‘You are both accused of breaking an engagement I personally bound you to without my consent,’ Moriana began, her voice high and clear, projecting easily through the silent room. ‘You disobeyed my will and used underhand means to thwart the terms of your agreement.’

I raised my gaze, opened my mouth to disagree, but Briyala was faster.

‘We did, Your Majesty,’ she said, eyes still fixed downward. ‘We beg your forgiveness.’

‘Do you?’ There was a shuffling of fabric as the queen sat back in her seat and crossed one leg over the other. ‘Beg, I mean.’

‘Yes, Your Majesty. Most humbly. We never set out to disappoint or disobey you. I implored Tarian to honour his mate bond because I believe in the sanctity of fate above all else. Tarian—’

‘—I made my own decisions,’ I cut in forcefully, recognising the bent of her intention. To take the blame. As though I’d let her when it was my fault that we were here. ‘I didn’t consult anyone before I made them. I definitely didn’t consult Briyala. She had no part in my choices.’ My mistakes. My fault.

‘Then how unfortunate if she were to share in your punishment for them,’ Moriana purred, dark eyes gleaming as I realised too late that I’d walked straight into the trap she’d set for me. ‘So, have you come to do as she says, Tarian? To beg for my forgiveness? To beg me for mercy on the unwitting woman you’ve damned with your insubordination?’

Her meaning was clear: beg or let Briyala suffer. I wished she’d just fucking torture me.

‘Yes.’ The word cut through my gritted teeth.

‘Then I am ready to hear it.’ She was enjoying this. A variation on endless rounds of using magic to force me into compliance. I thought free will would always be preferable, but it was worse, so much worse, to humiliate myself by choice. My gaze flicked to Briyala, who held her bowed position like she was a carved sculpture, silver hair cascading to the floor. Would she be spared punishment if I begged convincingly? Maybe, maybe not. Could I live with myself if I didn’t at least attempt to win mercy for her? No.

‘Please.’ It came out barely a whisper.

Moriana gestured towards her ear. ‘A little louder, darling. If I can hardly hear you, I’m sure no one else can either.’

Slithers of magic were starting to escape me, licking at the slate until it began to crumble beneath my knees. I tried to breathe through it, to reign in my hatred of her, and as I said the next words, of myself. An image of Imogen flashed through my mind, of her beneath me, starlight in her eyes as I kissed the mark on her wrist. This felt like betraying her all over again. ‘Please forgive me for disobeying you and breaking my engagement.’

‘That could hardly be called begging. What do you think, Briyala? Would you like to show him how it’s done?’

‘I’m on my knees,’ I growled. ‘In front of the whole court. What more do you want?’

‘Begging requires humility, which is something you sorely lack.’ She flicked a hand. ‘Come, Briyala, show him. Beg me.’

Briyala straightened a little, began shuffling forwards on her knees.

A commotion broke out behind me, a shuffle of feet and raised voices. Moriana’s focus left me, her eyes darting over my shoulder. Her demeanour frosted over, and the noise and movement abruptly ceased. Rising to my feet, I turned to see what had disrupted the proceedings.

A spindly legged, pot-bellied imp stood just beyond the line of the crowd, his tattered wings trembling beneath the full force of the queen’s gaze. Behind him, a few guards lingered, as if they had been chasing him but lacked the courage to follow him past the protection of the crowd.

‘F-f-for…’ the imp stammered, choking on the word as Moriana smiled coldly, crooking a finger.

‘Come closer.’

The imp crept forward, clutching a large parcel wrapped in a strange, pearlescent cloth that shimmered and shifted in his hands. ‘I’ve c-come b-bearing… a gift… f-for you, Your Majesty.’

Moriana raised a single dark brow. ‘A gift,’ she repeated, her voice as icy and calm as a frozen sea.

‘Of g-great power and ancient m-magic.’

Her eyes narrowed. With a flick of her hand, two guards scurried forward. ‘Take it from him,’ she ordered. ‘And let’s see what manner of gift is worthy of interrupting my justice.’

One guard grasped the package while the other seized the imp’s arm, yanking him backward so hard he stumbled over the tips of his wings. His wide eyes, filled with terror, weren’t fixed on the queen—they were locked on the parcel. A chill of foreboding crept over my skin.

‘Open it,’ Moriana commanded. The guard slipped his fingers into a fold of the wrapping, and immediately it cracked, shattered, and dissolved into wisps of something far stranger than cloth.

A large orb of crystal or glass was revealed, clear as water, containing a dark mass of brambles, all writhing vines and long, lethal thorns. The sphere began to pulse, expanding and contracting like a beating heart.

Arun was suddenly before me, breaking my line of sight, as the air in the room began to shift, thickening, squeezing my chest, sucking the air from my lungs in the direction of that orb, like it was a planet with its own gravitational pull. Time slowed, the queen’s rise to her feet became sluggish, her retreat behind her throne impossibly drawn out. Arun’s attempt to heard me backwards turned laborious, his arms outstretched, attempting to form words as all sound deadened, giving way to a crushing silence where everything froze completely.

A heartbeat of stillness.

Then, everything exploded.

With a deafening boom! the air and sound and motion rushed back with the force of a tidal wave, screaming over me in a pulse of heat and shrieking cries. The air was burning, ripped through with thousands of thorns, the world crashing down around me. Arun’s hand was on my arm, pushing me round just as pain tore into my back. A chunk of ceiling crashing to the floor by the throne. Agony split my head in a burst of white light. My legs gave out. Then all was darkness.