Page 26 of Wrath of the Fae Queen
Dante carefully marks the page of his book and places it down, then takes the vial in his hand. “This? No, it’s the antidote. There is no way to build a physical resistance to night terror fungus, so we need to experience it and train our minds to see the illusion instead.”
He tosses the antidote to me and I fumble to catch it, the glass slipping out of my hands multiple times before I get a proper grasp on it. I tear out the cork with my bare teeth and down the contents in a single gulp. Slowly, far too slowly, the wails recede, then disappear.
I collapse into the other armchair. My entire body feels so damned heavy and helpless, but I slowly turn my head to my guide. “How many more times do I need to do that?”
He taps a finger against his temple. “You surprised me with how quickly you passed this trial. Perhaps another half-dozen times? Maybe fewer?”
I throw my head back against the cushion, all my energy fleeing me. “By the Soul Ripper and all its destruction. I’m going to die here, falling from that fucking parapet, I just know it.”
“You don’t like the parapet, hey? I wonder what you will think of the other scenarios we will toss you into while high on night terror fungus.”
“You’re a fucking sadist,” I say without bothering to open my eyes.
“Hey, I don’t make the rules. We come from a brutal court, where only the strongest and smartest survive. A fae who cannot pass these trials is a fae who will get us all killed on a mission.”
I have a witty retort to that; I just can’t get it past my lips. Right before I black out and fall into the deepest sleep, I hear Dante pick up that book again and turn the pages.
We enter the City of Vertical Gardens through the same wide promenade of the capital’s main entrance as the first time I visited at Aldrin’s side. The long, broad bridge spans across the granite roots of the city, the drop below stretching into mist. The rocky foundations of the buildings are as tall as mountains. Streams cascade through shallow channels on each side of the overpass, hundreds of thin waterfalls falling over the edge into the valley below.
My heart stutters when I glance up at the colossal statues of the kings and queens of old that peer across the bridge at each other, especially when my gaze lands on the larger-than-life likeness of Aldrin. His beautiful face etched in stone is almost painful to look upon. I crave him like a drowning woman craves air. I ache to curl up against that broad, muscular chest while he wraps his arms around me and makes me feel safe once again.
I jump as our procession is announced by trumpets and heralds bellowing, summoning fae to the streets. Titania’s litter leads us. She has the curtains pulled open and waves to the gathering people, like she has any right to my mate’s throne. Tomythrone.
On my last visit, we explored the many meandering side streets of the City of Vertical Gardens, flanked by lazy streams, dotted with lily pads. Those were quiet and beautiful in comparison, leading across bridges and up flights of stairs to platforms full of miniature forests, restaurants, shops, bars or apartments. Now, we take a main highway to the palace, flanked by high-rises and completely filled by waiting crowds.
I am their exhibition; the queen to be torn down and humbled.
Rainier catches my eye. His lips move, but I don’t hear his words until his air wield sends them my way, his voice curling around my ears alone. “Remember our little talk.”
That is all he says before turning away.
How could I forget?
Glamour is a great strength of mine. I have been using it my entire life to hide my fae identity from even myself. I mask the filth covering my hair and skin, making it appear clean and vibrant to all. I cast out the image of a pristine white dress flowing from my body in elegant cascades. Everything I do is to present the image of a caged queen, rather than a helpless human who has been abused for days.
I split my glamour, so the cruel fae of Titania’s procession perceive me the way I truly look, and the crowd sees me as regal as possible.
A smile curls my lips as I work on the curtains of Titania’s litter, decaying them with my Autumn earth magic until the ends are in ripped tatters and grime smears up them.
Keira,Aldrin groans.As much as I love the pettiness, it’s not worth the risk of discovery.
Titania stands on her litter, arms spread wide, as we reach the masses. “I bring you a prize in chains! A seductress who stole your king from you. Look upon Aldrin’s human mate!” she bellows, her words amplified by someone else’s air wield so the entire crowd can hear her. “Where has Aldrin been while his people suffer? I bet that is the question you all ask,” she says, like she wasn’t the one who banished him. “He fought a war in the human realm for this pathetic little girl. Aldrin died in a muddy ditch in a forbidden realm, because he turned his back on his entire court for her! He placed magicless humans above his own kind! Inferior creatures who should be far beneath fae notice.”
I try not to jolt as the first missile is thrown at me and the sickly-sweet juices splatter to the floor at my feet. My entire cage rocks as the litter-bearers who share in my punishment react. More fruit is thrown at me, paired with jeers, but I am far too used to such treatment now.
Titania repeats her speech to a new audience each time we move deeper into the city. The loathing for humans she pours into it increases each time.
Look around, Keira,Aldrin orders, the promise of death in his voice.Let me mark their faces. When I come for you, I am going to fucking kill every one of them who tries to harm you. I don’t care if they are my own citizens.Shivers run down my spine at those words.
I examine the fae in the front row of the crowd, spittle flying from their mouths as they yell at me. The rancid fruit they handle is smeared on their clothes as well. Many carry baskets of it, handing it out to the people. They elbow and shove each other to get to the front and gain the best leering look at me.
Fucking pathetic.
Rage flares within me at their hatred that is so thick for humans. These people abuse me when they know nothing about who I am. To them, I am weak and vulnerable, and that is enough to make them superior in their eyes.
It isn’t until my gaze passes that hostile front line that I realize something profoundly important: Titania’s aggressive supporters are in the minority. Perhaps three times their number slink behind them, pale-faced, shaking their heads and muttering angrily as they point at the High Chancellor. Some argue with those throwing fruits at me, and others physically restrain them, pulling them back through the crowd in a brawl.
Titania does not have the full support of the capital.
