Page 120 of Wrath of the Fae Queen
The beauty of the capital is not something I could have imagined before coming here, even in my wildest dreams.
It is clear the city is in turmoil. Far too many streets are clogged with the silhouettes of tiny bodies thrashing and fighting. Others have been cleared out where the battle has moved on, but the stain of spilled blood is evidence of the violence that has unfolded there.
We leave the City of Vertical Gardens, flying high above the meadows surrounding it, awash with a rainbow of spring wildflowers and hundreds of moonstone portals. Then we pass over thick canopies of dense forest.
I open myself up completely to Aldrin, the bond between us sparking brightly and bringing our souls so closely aligned that they almost feel as one. There is a deep intimacy in this, as our minds fuse, our bodies become tightly attuned to each other, and our reservoirs of raw magic meld so he can take just as much from mine as his own.
Aldrin’s fingers tighten around my hips as his heart hammers so hard I can feel it against my back. Every muscle in his body is incredibly tight, his mind anticipating every way this call to vote can go wrong. I force my own calm certainty into him, making it unclench each knot in his body, because surely the gods will be on our side this time.
Perhaps it is easier to have blind hope when I risk myself and not the man I love.
Aldrin pulls on that royal magic, infusing my power with his, and sends out a blanket command that spreads for miles and miles from the point we pass over. One that forces each fae of this court to partake in the vote for who will rule: us or Titania.
One by one, they are bound to vote by sunset.
It is incredibly humbling, being connected to all these people, even for a heartbeat of time. Feeling not only their presence, but their shocked reactions to our call.
There is no time for politics. None to convince these fae of the wilds and countryside that we are the better rulers. That Titania will only bring ruination. We will have the votes of the low fae of the wilds, especially those who suffer from neglect, but their numbers are far fewer than the high fae. The rest is out of our hands.
Aldrin’s grip on me becomes tighter the longer we work, his arms becoming two iron bands around my waist, terrified to let me go. I grip his thighs, nestling my head into his chest while he places his chin on top of it.
Sweat coats both of us, and his heart rate never settles. There is so much fear between us, but we do not speak of it.
We pass over a jagged, rocky mountainscape that holds multiple perfectly circular pools of deep blue water. Each one is the size of a castle, located on a different tier and feeding into each other through waterfalls. Every single basin has its own Lake Maiden, an abundance of nymphs and large sentient water sprites. In a not-too-distant valley, there is a bone-white city full of domes and arches. It is small compared to the capital, but thousands of high fae live there.
All are called to vote.
We leave out none, including those from places where they are unlikely to favor us. To exclude them would be to invalidate the election.
We move on and on, while the sun rises, hits its peak in the sky, then moves down toward the horizon again. Over an immense manor house with a bell tower surrounded by acres of rose gardens filled with flower nymphs. Through a jungle with widely spaced trees as tall as Appleshield Castle, with townships of fae built right into trunks and canopies, many of the treehouses hanging over dizzying drops.
We pass over a city built right over the precipice where a colossal river crashes down in a violent mile of continuous waterfall into the sea, with many wheels spinning in the torrent to generate energy.
All are snared in our royal compulsion. Even the towns and cities that threw fruit at me when I first arrived in this court.
“I wanted you to see all of our court, but not like this.” Aldrin’s voice vibrates through my body pressed up against his chest. I know what he means. Not with the threat of impending doom hanging over us. Not so briefly, without a chance to take it all in.
I rub my hand up and down his thigh soothingly. “When we take the throne, we will visit every part of the Spring Court. We have so much work to do.”
“I look forward to it.” He kisses my neck.
I turn to Aldrin in my seat, stomach lurching as Ezekiel suddenly banks left. “Are you ready for the most dangerous part, Aldrin? To return to the capital?”
He groans. “Can’t we just skip them? That place is a fucking nightmare.”
“Not if we want to appease our supporters and have concrete evidence against any who are indoctrinated by Titania. You know she will say the election was tampered with and false. We cannot give her anything to work with.”
“I know.” He pulls me even closer. “The moment we make the call over the city, she will become aware of what we are doing. She will try to stop it.”
“Then we stick to the plan. As soon as the sun goes down and we have won, the second my bargain is broken, we storm the palace with everything we have and we kill the tyrant. I will do it with my teeth and bare hands if I have to.” The bargain flares within me at the thought, but it won’t be able to do a damned thing once we win.
Fury boils within me whenever I consider Titania. Every torment she has put us and the fae of the capital through, just to keep her twisted grasp on power. To feed her ego.
Her life is forfeit.
She does not deserve mercy or to be heard at a trial.Not when her crimes are clear to see.It twists up my insides and has an inferno of rage burning bright within me that she is not dead already.
Any politicians of her inner circle who aided in her atrocities are also marked for death. The Truth Templars and the Wildrose Guard who enacted her will. I’ll do it myself, even if my hands are marked red for the rest of my life from all the blood I will spill. The only fae who may receive an exemption are those civilians who were caught up in her web of lies.
