Page 150 of Wrath of the Fae Queen
I wouldn’t blame them after everything this court has put her through, if those near-seven-foot men weren’t glaring varying degrees of loathing and accusation at Cyprien, like he is the largest threat to their princess in this room. When his gaze turns away from Sasha, the orcs relax and break their death stares.
I asked Cyprien after the last battle why they seem to hate him so much, why Sasha is so hostile to him, and he told me he has no fucking clue. After all, the previous Winter King, Sasha’s uncle, died at his hand, but I was the man who declared war on their entire court after their first invasion attempt, and I don’t receive a fraction of her contempt.
But Cyprien can’t stop snatching glances at her.
My eyes glide to Silvan and Jasper. They are seated with senators who were imprisoned in their homes during Titania’s reign for their outspoken support of me and the ranking army commanders who lead the regiments that helped us win.
Jasper waves his arms around as he speaks loudly of one battle or another, cheeks flushed from wine and eyes glittering every time he looks at Silvan. They break out into roaring laughter at multiple points, many of the others calling out and contributing.
Silvan doesn’t say a word. He simply watches Jasper with the gentlest expression I have ever seen on his face. He actually smiles, as though relishing his partner’s joy is enough for him.
An hour passes, followed by another, as multiple courses of the banquet are brought out, consumed and cleared away. The tension doesn’t leave me the entire time. Maybe I have spent so many years constantly on guard and searching for threats that I have forgotten how to relax and celebrate.
I take Keira’s hand in mine and kiss each one of her knuckles. “Is there anything my queen wants for? Any changes you would like to make in this court? We could tear this entire palace down and build you another one if that is what you desire.”
She tilts her head to the side and gives me a hard look, making me laugh. “Why do you offer such extravagant things when you know I don’t care for them?”
I shrug. “To prove there are no bounds to my love. How about a new festival that celebrates competitions of archery on horseback? I’m sure we can import some of those mad beasts from your birth realm. We can build a new library available to the public that compiles advanced texts from across the realm, including the specialties of the other courts. You will find mine lacking in comparison to the universities in the Summer Court. Gods, we could build realm-leading universities and offer grants to those who cannot afford tuition.”
Keira perks up, suddenly sitting straighter, and I know I have hit the nail on the head. “I would die to study at a university. To finally learn to read fae runes and history and more. To have such a dream available to everyone, despite their status or wealth—that would be monumental.”
I cringe. “Don’t speak of dying. It won’t come to that ever again.”
“Oh, Aldrin, I want to sponsor human academics to study in our library and transcribe fae scriptures. For them to bring fae knowledge back to the human realm and vice versa.” Her entire face lights up.
“Done,” I say. “You can have whatever you want, Keira. The rule of this realm is as much yours as it is mine.” I can’t stop saying those words, not until she believes them to the depths of her soul.
She runs a finger across my jawline, down my neck and chest, partly exposed through the thin embroidered silk of my tunic.“I want to start a family here. Put down roots. When all of our battles are fought and we have a good plan in place to combat the corruption of these lands, I want the palace halls to ring with the laughter of children.”
I swallow hard as my heart expands so rapidly it might burst. “That may take years to accomplish?—”
“I know Torin is still out there and angry, but we can find him if we throw all our resources at it. And the corruption cannot wait the decades it will take to slowly reverse it. I love being an aunt, but it is not enough for me.”
I take her small hands in mine and squeeze them. “No, I mean trying to conceive may take years. Decades, for some.”
“Then it is better we start trying sooner than later.” She winks at me. “What is it that you really want, Aldrin?”
“You know what I want,” I say in a low growl, leaning in close to speak into her ear. “You, on top of me, pinned underneath me, against a wall. In every way I can possibly think up, then to repeat it all. I want you first thing in the morning and in the middle of the night. To sneak away partway through the day. The time and peace to enjoy each other uninterrupted. Mostly, I want no one to ever take you from me again.”
Keira’s huge eyes are ablaze when I pull back from her and she opens that sultry mouth to say something, and I know I am going to fucking love it?—
The grand doors to the banquet hall slam open. Two columns of Royal Guards march through with a man in their grasp.
I rise immediately from my seat and the room falls to silence.At first I think they have brought me one of Torin’s men, someone who can give us information—and has been caught in the thick of fighting, from the bloody mess of him. Then I take in the way they carry him under the shoulders so caringly, and the fact that Basil fusses over him.
I grip the edge of the table hard as a cold sweat breaks out all over me. As gasps sound around me. I take in the dark skin and long white hair of the fae half hunched over, struggling to put one foot in front of the other, but pushing guards away from him so he can take the last few steps to stand before me on his own.
Rainier.
Badly bruised, beaten, sunburned and covered with shallow bloody gashes.
Rainier, who was meant to be on a safe diplomatic mission in the court of our closest ally with Drake and Cedar.
Rainier, alone, without them.
Our eyes lock as he fights to keep his chin up, then his gaze slides to his mother’s, and his entire face crumples. Klara doesn’t hesitate. She leaps over the table, knocking chalices and dishes, tearing her formal gown as she rushes to her son. Immediately she begins to heal him, her magic flaring a golden white, but he cannot look at her. He stands swaying on his feet, staring straight at me but unable to speak.
Then my eyes drop down and I notice the bag he clutches with a white-knuckled death grip. It has a large, ball-shaped bulge in it and the fabric is soaked red.
