Page 56 of Wrath of the Fae Queen
“So, you are continuing the look she forces upon you in the palace?” my mother asks without a hint of judgment. We both ignore the fact that Titania’s outfits are far more revealing than this one. Each time I walk through her court proudly despite my attire, she reduces the amount I get to wear the next time.
“Since I have no choice there, I am claiming the look as my own,” I say. “It is unfortunate for her that she started this with gold chains to make me look like a powerless royal prisoner, because she cannot back down now, and the color makes me look regal.”
A red flush creeps up my father’s neck and his fists clench and unclench, like he wants to charge straight to the palace and strangle Titania with his bare hands, but he says nothing.
“You look beautiful, dear.” My mother arranges the curls of my hair. “Trust me, you will find the nobility mimicking your style in this realm and mine, just as long as you stand tall and wear it with pride.”
She leaves unspoken the fact that even this gown would be a mild outrage in my home kingdom of Strathia. But myself and Caitlin in armor was no less of a stir.
We never played by the rules.
“I have written a list of speaking points for you.” She pulls a long, rolled-up piece of parchment from her pocket and tucks it into my hand. “Try to touch on as many of them as possible. Klara, Hawthorne and Silvan have spent the last hour mingling with the merchants drinking in the hall and have interviewed them on their main grievances. Each speech needs to be tailored to the specific concerns of the group you address.”
I nod as my eyes flick over the words, many of the topics already a part of my intended speech, but there are some new items. “Thank you, Mother.”
“That is not all, Keira. Copy as many of their mannerisms as you can. You want to be relatable to these merchants.” She presses her bony fingers into my shoulders and leads me to the doorway, where the stage is laid out before us. “Watch the way this woman speaks. Back straight. Chin up. Full of the confidence of a businesswoman running a massive, thriving enterprise. There is strength, anger and passion in her voice, and she doesn’t cower or pause each time another merchant calls out and interrupts her speech. Yes, she may answer the question, or she may ignore it, but even the worst criticisms don’t make her hesitate.”
I nod vigorously. Most would be intimidated by stepping onto a stage and speaking before a crowd, especially one that might not be kind toward me, but I have spent my entire adult life under the public eye as Finan’s intended betrothed. Nothing,nothing,can be worse than being forced to marry him in front of that crowd, or being silenced on the royal dais while he held court and discussed the war against my family.
“And Keira.” My mother breaks my concentration. “These people believe Aldrin is dead. It is a thing we can use to our advantage.”
My heart stops, then hammers rapidly as the memories flood me. “You would have me lie to our people?”
“Not a lie. Aldrin did die during the war against Finan. We both know his heart stopped for too long after your father brought him back from that battlefield and he was full of musket bullets. It took strong magic to make it beat again. I am merely suggesting we use Titania’s lies against her. That we claim Aldrin died and was brought back from death as a martyr to save his people from a tyrant.”
“Twice,” I murmur, my chest constricting painfully. “He has died twice.”
My mother’s face drops. My father notices our mood change and comes over, placing an arm around my shoulders and pulling me into his side while I tell them in whispers what happened when he challenged the leadership of the Assassins of Belladonna.
I glance at Aldrin’s people, chiefly Cyprien, and know they don’t need to be devastated by the details just yet.
My father peers into my face with emerald fire burning in his eyes. “Pour your anger into your speech.Showthem your strength.”
When my presence is announced and I step out onto that stage, I do so with fury brimming in my soul and my hairliterally ablaze. The orange-and-gold curls rise on a phantom breeze, moving in a cloud around my shoulders, flames licking across them and embers floating around me. The light it casts shimmers across the golden beads of my dress and I am sure it has a similar effect upon my crown. I ensure my ears are in their true, pointed fae form and allow every one of my abundant freckles to glow with the fire that rages beneath.
The crowd turns deathly silent, staring at me with wide eyes, absolutely stunned.
Good. They are ready to hear their queen.
There are more fae present at this merchant guild hall meeting than I was expecting. They are arranged on long benches before tables, and many have frozen with mugs of ale halfway to their mouths. All are dressed immaculately, in brocade vests and velvet gowns and well-tailored tunics, laden with jewels.
I examine the crowd while wearing a mask of unshakeable confidence, allowing the silence to drag on as they take in my unexpected appearance. My sheer power and primal form.
“It is true,” one whispers. “The queen is fae, with a halo of golden fire.”
“She does not seem like a helpless human captive to me,” another murmurs.
I hold my back straight and create an air wield to send my voice evenly across the room. “The rumors are true: your King Aldrin has died, not once, but twice.”
The room erupts into chaos, but I simply hold up a hand and they fall silent for me.
“Perhaps the gods know he is needed here to save this land and its people, because they have sent him back to us. Twice he has died, and twice he has risen from death, a martyr born again to liberate his people in their darkest hour. Hewillreturn to reclaim his birthright, and he will be far stronger than before. Unstoppable. But right now, it is your queen who is here. It isIwho challenge you to rise up against your oppressor.”
I survey the crowd that stares back at me with unbroken attention, eyes glassy and jaws hanging open.
“There is a tyrant sitting on the throne!” I roar, and many call out their assent. “Titania promised to bring wealth into this court during the election! That it would be shared among all, giving good merchants like yourselves a better way of life, but instead she has hoarded it all for herself.” More calls of agreement erupt from the crowd. “She claimed to understand you because she is a businesswoman. Promised to cut the tithes and the restrictions on trade to make business easier for merchants. Instead, she has increased both. Why? Because she doesn’t want your competition. Because Titania only cares about her own interests.”
“She is killing our trade!” one woman cries out. “Targeting those who threaten her with additional tithes.”
