Page 143 of Wrath of the Fae Queen
“The tyrant who called herself the High Chancellor is dead!” Aldrin’s voice booms out across the city as he taps his magic into the many plinths placed throughout.
My heart hammers frantically as the fighting nearest to us slows, then stops completely as the people turn their full attention to us. Some even go as far as to drop their weapons. Idon’t know if they stare at the body of their former leader or at their king and queen, but I guess it depends on which side of the battle they are on. A cheer rises up from many of the people, who bang their boots against the ground and clash their weapons against whichever surfaces make a sound. Others turn and flee.
“Your true king and queen have taken their rightful throne,” Aldrin continues. “Ours by birth and ours by winning the popular vote in the election. The war is over. The fighting will stop.Any civilians who got caught up in the moment and took to the streets after Titania’s call will be given clemency, but only if you return homenow.”
A ripple runs through the crowd below us. Then they disperse, pulling away from the base of the palace and channeling down the many streets and flights of stairs that hug the faces of the high buildings. The Spring Court army is still down there, looking worse for wear, pushing the mob away from the city center and mopping up any resistance.
My gaze trails to the balconies and boulevards further below, where the people look like fighting ants. Only those who can clearly see Titania’s face and know for certain that she is dead have stopped. The rest do not believe us. Panic rips through me like shards of glass pumping in my blood.
I whip around to Aldrin. “It’s not enough. Titania has primed the people for so long with her campaign of lies that they won’t believe anything unless they see it with their own eyes. They are far too used to dismissing inconvenient truths. Her cult still thinks they are fighting for her.”
He runs a hand through his hair, every line of fatigue on his face becoming pronounced with the rising sun. “What more can we do? We have wiped out and disbanded half her force in the palace and at its base. Our army will have to do the rest.”
My glaze flicks upward as dragons circle around the topmost portion of the palace, and suddenly I know what we must do.
It is barbaric.
Gruesome.
But it is necessary, because seeing is believing.
I reach out to the largest dragon glittering in the early sun and ask him for one final favor.
“We must parade her body through the streets for all to see.” I wrinkle my nose. Lord Cegar curses under his breath, but Cyprien just nods approvingly.
Aldrin frowns. “That is not exactly how I envisioned we would start our reign together, but none of this has gone to plan.”
“But it is necessary, old friend.” Cyprien places a hand on Aldrin’s arm. “If these fools insist on dying for a lost cause, then you need to match their brutality.”
Ezekiel lands on the rapidly emptying balcony, making the entire structure shake. He extends his golden wings wide before snapping them shut against his scaled body. His long neck whips around to us, reptilian eyes narrowing, before moving to where Titania’s body hangs.
This is not how you dethrone a tyrant, Aldrin. Always short on the savagery and showmanship. Your mate is right. Let me illustrate to your people what becomes of a usurper. Let me parade her through the city.The dragon has steam billowing from his nostrils as he approaches us,.
Aldrin lets out a long-suffering sigh, but I am the one who answers. “If you could be so kind as to show all that the High Chancellor is dead, we would owe you, king of dragons.”
He chuffs.Like you don’t already owe me. The favors are mounting up, little queen.Without another word, Ezekiel flaps his wings, sending a torrent of air assaulting us all, and rises above the ground. He pulls the ensemble that Titania is tied to from the balcony railing and carries it through the sky, holding its topmost loops in his claws. A procession of dragons followsbehind him, swooping low over the masses of people, dispersing the fighting as they go.
Bartholomew and a second dragon wait patiently behind, having agreed to our other request. The prince lands with a little less drama than his father, lowering a leg for us to climb up. My hands shake by the time I am settled on his back in front of Aldrin, with both Cyprien and Lord Cedar behind.
I cannot get a grip on my nerves. Despite every single horror we have faced since I woke up from death, this next trial is the most terrifying, because I have no idea what we will find. There is every chance we could be far too late.
Aldrin’s grip on me tightens, but he has no reassuring words to say. Bartholomew beats his wings, launching upward and taking us higher and higher.
The refraction of the sun on the golden bars of the two remaining cages blinds me. I can make out the figures of Drake and Sasha within, but I cannot see them clearly. They could be slumped over and dead by now, spikes piercing their bodies, but by the Soul Ripper, I hope they are alive. That we made it in time. The dread of anticipation makes my blood run cold.
We land on the palace’s rooftop, descend from the dragon in a mad flurry and race for the edge of the wall. I am the first to reach it and my heart twists at the sight that confronts me.
Drake and Sasha stand within their cages, swaying on their feet, with no room from them to even hunch forward or sit. Titania must have had the spikes adjusted to penetrate further inward after they were removed from the throne room. The tips now touch their clothing. It seems there isn’t even enough space to take a deep breath.
Their prisons are hung close enough to each other that they are able to reach between the bars and grasp hands. Drake sings a song in a low, pained voice, and Sasha hums along, missing half the beats, like it is the only thing keeping her awake. Theystruggle to open their eyes and neither bother to look up at us. Blood stains their clothes and faces, crusted and peeling, pooling at the bottom of their cages.
A second dragon lands right as Aldrin, Cyprien and Cedar arrive at my side, but my friends below don’t even flinch. I wonder if they are aware that help is only seconds away.
“Thank the fucking gods,” Aldrin groans, then pulls away immediately. Cyprien stares below, his eyes huge and glazed, darting from Sasha to Drake and back. “Is someone going to help me with these winches?” Aldrin calls out and Cyprien leaps up.
I turn toward running boots, half expecting another attack from the urgency of their pace, but instead Klara races toward us with Rainier at her side, Hawthorne behind them. Their extraction of her son from the dungeon was clearly successful. I wrap my arms around Klara as she lands at the side of the rooftop and peers over, leaning into me as she lets out a deep, heartfelt sob.
Both cages rattle as Aldrin and Cyprien begin working the mechanisms on the chains.
