Page 85 of Wrath of the Fae Queen
I glance up at the balconies and apartments above the strip of shops. Multiple faces appear in windows, pulling aside curtains to peer through. Their eyes are wide, and many turn away to usher others to the view. Some even hover out in the open, looking down over the railings of the higher-level platforms.
This display is clearly a shock for them.Something they never thought would happen in their neighborhood, to someonethey know. Perhaps these wealthy people in their ivory towers truly believed that the Truth Templars only attacked criminals. That good people like themselves would be left unmolested.
The indifference and tolerance of the majority is the reason tyrants get away with these sorts of atrocities.
“Aldrin’s magic is in the room with the flower nymphs,” I say softly to my father. “He can stop the hearts of the six Templars up there terrorizing them before they can blink if they cross a line.”
My father’s eyebrows shoot up.“He’s that powerful?”
“Weare that powerful,” Aldrin says. “We can draw on each other’s raw magic and borrow each other’s abilities.”
Black smoke curls in the air, churning out of the storefront. Within, Templars splash about alcohol and light small sparks to ignite tall flames with their minimal fire magic, all that Spring fae can manage. A monsoon rain falls upon the path by which they intend to leave, containing the fire. The thing is, no fire can truly be controlled.
They laugh as they destroy in minutes the business someone spent decades of hard work building.
The sight breaks my heart. It sends my magic blazing through me with the intensity of a storm as I prepare for a fight. The rage it stokes sets my blood rushing and a phantom breeze flicks up my hair, swirling embers and tongues of fire through it.
I glance at my hands and satisfaction rolls within me. Every freckle upon my skin dances with the light of the internal flames behind it as my primal form comes out to play. As the change amplifies my powers.
The Truth Templars have no right to invade a person’s home.
To steal from them and burn it to the ground.
They have no right to destroy a person’s haven of safety, purely based on their race.
These thugs make no investigations into an accused person’s conduct to discover if they truly engage in illegal activity. No trial takes place. No arrest with dignity is attempted. These people are persecuted and treated with so much hate for simply existing.
It fucking stops now.
I will make these Templars pay, tonight.
“It is time to make our move,” I snarl.
“My thoughts exactly.” Aldrin pulls his sword from his back.
I extract my hand from his, placing it on his chest to hold him back. “Let me go first, since you’re meant to be dead. We will give them the show you desire, with a dramatic entrance.”
He gives me a nod, his eyes simmering with violence.
Glamour washes over me, transforming my gown into a regal garment of gold, fit for holding court in the palace, and placing a crown on my head. Then I step out into the fray, beyond our invisibility wards, with half our warriors flanking me.
“By order of your true queen, I command you to stop these atrocities!” I bellow, making my voice larger than life and ensuring it carries to the audience gathering above. “You are going to burn down the entire neighborhood!”
Two Templars step out of the wreckage of the shop with hints of charcoal smeared across their surcoats. They consider me, then throw back their heads and laugh.
“True queen? What true queen?” one snickers. “The dead king’s human mate?”
“Isn’t she cowering in the palace, dressed like a whore and sitting at the High Chancellor’s feet?” the other replies.
I click my fingers and all that fire consuming the shop leaps to my command. It runs in thin channels across the ground, rushing toward me. Its brutal power collides with my body and is soaked up, fueling me. My hair explodes into dancing tonguesof pure flame, none of my natural strands remaining. Flickers of fire run along my skin, creating an ever-shifting halo.
People gasp at my display of power.
I take another step toward the two Templars who tower over me. They back away. “Do I look human to you? Am I cowering before anyone?” I roar. “Stand your people down and answer to your queen!”
They glance at each other, wavering for a heartbeat, but the rest of the Templars ransacking the florist stream out and fan around them, and their smirks return. One has the audacity to draw his mace. “It is a crime punishable by death to obstruct the justice of the Truth Templars.”
“Justice!” I laugh bitterly. The angry murmuring of the crowd above us intensifies in volume. “What justice? Can you tell us the crimes these people have committed that warrant their business being burned to ash in the night and them being pulled from their beds at swordpoint? Have they had a trial? Been presented before a judge and had a chance to plead their case?”
