Page 113 of A Song of Air
Forged in Magic and Iron
Once upon a time, Weylynwould have bowed and fallen to his knees in fear of the power of the woman before him. He would have let his forehead kiss the ground if only to please her. But that was before. Before everything. Before pain and rage and magic swept him away in a haze of danger and a life not worth living.
Now, those old feelings, pain...rage... inadequacy... It all went rushing to the front of his mind as he was forced to the ground before the Queen of the Unseelie Court. His mother.
His forehead sizzled as it touched the iron on the ground. Beside him, Bryson hissed in pain as it did the same to her. He tried not to struggle. He kept preternaturally still and, using whatever strength he could muster, reached for Bryson’s mind with trembling fingers.
The iron inhibited his magic, and so the words flickered in and out of her mind.
“Be brave, little mate.”
Bryson took a breath to let him know she’d heard.
His insides hollowed out when he flicked his gaze back up again, like the queen had taken a spoon and scooped out his vital organs just for the fun of it. She glared at him like centuries had not passed since that fateful day when everything around them had irrevocably changed.
She still despised him.
And he still despised her.
He could’ve been swallowed up by the infernal depths of her anger in that gaze alone. He hated to get lost in it. Hated the fear that rippled through him. Hated how she reduced him to this.
The leg that was crossed over the other delicately dropped to the floor. He watched as she pushed herself to a stand, stepping down the dais and onto iron in her bare feet. There wasn’t so much as a sizzle or a single wince of pain. In fact, nobody around them appeared to be as affected as he and Bryson were.
“Why have you come back?” his mother demanded. Her feet stopped shy away from his eyes. There were jeers from the crowd around them, from goblins and pixies and Unseelie of all kinds. “I told you what would happen, should you come back. Or have you forgotten?”
He hadn’t.
In fact, he lived with the haunting thought day and night. He had sought his vengeance on it. Had sworn to render the world to ash because of it.
“Remind your wayward brother what the consequences of returning would be, since he seems to have forgotten.” The queen stepped back up to the dais backwards and sat upon the edge of the throne. From behind the grand structure, several more bodies came out of hiding.
Owyn, Rainer, the twins Gwyn and Glyn, and Cassimir joined them at the top as well.
His gaze swept around them.
Each so similar, so different, at least from him.
The queen’s head tilted up, and she smirked down at Weylyn. At her youngest and most hated son. Gold glittered on her body like a second skin painted against her form. Her long tail curled from beneath her, wrapping around her ankle as if for comfort. Long black horns towered over her long, loose hair. Hair that was spun from silk spiderwebs, as dark as the oil night was made of.
A crown of iron and gold sat atop her head.
And each one of his brothers wore smaller crowns to match. Crowns of thorns and gold perched near their horns and dark hair. Some stood in their full Unseelie forms, black claws on display, sharp teeth gnashing, golden eyes blinking, tails swaying.
Weylyn had not inherited a single thing from his mother save her appearance. They all had, but he had no Unseelie features to speak of. It was what made it easier to blend in with the High Fae. It was also what they used against him, time and time again.
