by A. K. Koonce
The meal concludes as the Queen gives her children one final look. Her silverware hits her plate with an announcing thwack. “As usual, it was lovely to see you. I’ll make arrangements to meet with each one of you this week.”
The king, not yet finished with his plate, scoots himself out of his chair and stands to pull Avaleen’s out. When she holds her skirts and heads toward the door, he follows.
“Oh, and Kai,” She stops at the door. “Maybe keep your pets confined to your room next time.”
The moment her back turns to us, Rowan lifts his hand. He points an indifferent finger at a servant and gestures toward the door. “Could you just close that for us.” All the while, my mouth has surely hit the floor.
Both King Dravid and Queen Avaleen resume their chatter down the hall but their words are lost to us as the doors click shut. Rowan growls under his breath, both hands on the table as he stretches into his chair. Violet wilts into her seat, as theatrically as possible. Kai’s head tilts until his blonde ponytail is ruffled against the chair at such an angle he’s exposing his throat to me.
“That was so painful!” Violet cries.
“Is it like this every time?” I finally close my gaping mouth.
“Yes.” Rowan and Kai groan in unison.
“And she’s making appointments with us now.” Rowan uses his first two fingers to make air quotes as he talks. “Who makes appointments with their own children?”
Kai’s eyes are closed again and I’m certain it’s because his parents have utterly exhausted him. Is this what Lincoln had to grow up with? Did his mother even let him dine with them? If so, was she this obnoxiously rude?
Watching the servants slowly make their way back into the kitchen, I stand. A lazy groan leaves me as I push against my back.
“Mother makes appointments with each of us regularly. It’s our allotted time with her. At this age it’s mainly to make sure we are upholding our duties and protecting our image. When we were younger it was chit-chat while she helped teach us to do simple magic or something else of that nature. Once, she taught me to embroider.” Violet sticks her tongue out. “What a wasted talent I now have.”
“If only we could all be so lucky. She tried to teach me to play the piano.” Kai finally lifts his head.
“Tried?” I offer. I grab my plate and move to the seat I’d originally occupied. Most of my meal was uneaten. It’s hard to have enough oomph to cut your food when you’re sitting like a dummy in a ventriloquist’s lap.
“Oh, I know how to play. But my fingers are a bit clumsy.” Kai wiggles his ringed fingers before picking up his fork to eat his meal too.
I shove a piece of chicken into my mouth and try not to think about his fingers on my bare skin. Both Rowan and Violet push their empty plates away. They had plenty of opportunity to finish in the lingering silence their parents offered.
“I thought you told me she liked humans.”
“Seems she wasn’t in a particularly good mood today.” Violet rolls her eyes. “It’s hit or miss with her.
“You two played your part well.” Rowan smirks. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d assume that chemistry was real.”
“You are just jealous,” Kai says between bites. “You wish Briar could be a pretty object on your lap.”
Rowan chuckles. “You’re not wrong. Nothing you said there was a lie.”
“Just don’t get your hopes up, brother.” Violet picks at her teeth.
“I think it’s too late for that,” Kai interjects before Rowan can speak. They exchange bickersome expressions.
The room without the king and queen feels less stuffy. My shoulders still hurt from the constant tension they had held during the meal. As I’m finishing my plate, I find myself looking absently at the king’s plate, still plenty full.
It’s clear who the powerhouse is in this kingdom. Queen Avaleen has everyone pinched and until I get my powers and claim my crown, I’ll be just another thing for her to crush under her shining, pointed-toed heels.
I think this realm could use a taste of a queen that isn’t wicked.
Not that I’m saying that Avaleen is comparable to Cordelia... because like… she isn’t. Avaleen wasn’t a ruthless madwoman for one.
But the standards of this realm need reform.
And I’m the right woman for the job.
Vote Briar Anders.
Seven
Slippery Slope
The uncomfortable silence from dinner follows Kai and I down the halls. While every passing hall resembles both the one before and the one after it, thanks to Rowan’s quick guided tour, I now have some sense of where I’m going.
Seeing as my dress doesn’t have pockets, the greatest downfall and most certainly an engineered feat of a misogynistic culture, I find my hands feeling lost. I try to let my arms swing at my sides but it feels too forced for the pace Kai has set next to me. Yet, if I clasp my hands in front of me not only do I become some innocent character from the eighteen-hundreds, but my interlaced fingers bounce against my stomach, now bloated from eating. There is clearly no winning with Fae fashion.
Kai’s hands, I note, are clasped behind his back. He whistles softly as he escorts me to my room. Oblivious to my nervous state.
“Kai?” I finally break the quiet.
In front of us, two servants pull the curtains of the balcony closed. The sun sets without the vivid pinks and oranges as if it too is exhausted by today.
“Yes?” He lifts a brow, his whistle dead on his lips.
“Your mother is awful.”
His chin drops to the floor as he stifles his laugh. “And?”
“And I don’t think I can wait to release my powers. Some things need to change. In the Shadow Court… and here.”
“Even if you are a queen, Briar, you have no reign over the Iron Court,” he reminds me carefully.
“But as a queen I’ll finally have a voice. I can help Fae. Plus, one day you’ll have the throne.” I smile, gently. “And you are ready for change, right?”
“Hmm, I’m not sure I’m going to be the king you think I’ll be.”
“It’s the queen who holds the power here, isn’t it?” Our steps slow as we reach my door. We face each other but neither of us moves for the knob.
“And I’m just the pretty little side piece.” Kai returns my grin but something dark burns in his gaze.
There is pity in my heart for Kai, at the way that he views his own role. He has power, but he’s helpless.
“Who are you going to marry?” I settle with crossing my arms over my chest, in the way that hides my breasts instead of putting them on display.
“Well, there are other Fae Courts with Princesses with who would probably love to rule. I’m sure my Mother will make arrangements for our Courtship if her current plan falls through.” He drops his gaze.
“…Current plan?”
“She wants to make a deal with Cordelia since Lincoln is nothing more to her than a soldier.”
“It’s never good to make deals with the devil.” I laugh to cover up my rising anxiety.
“Yes, well, deals between one devil and another aren’t often questioned.” He swallows. “My mother is writing up a proposal for Cordelia and I’s marriage. In exchange, our Courts will be merged into one with our reigns becoming equal. I’m the first born, but I’m also a male therefore the power in my court defaults to whomever I marry. My mother would like to ensure that our family remains in power… and expanding our court is an additional plus.”
“You can’t marry Cordelia.” I hold myself tighter.
“It’s not ideal.” Kai agrees, leaning toward me to finally open the door. “But if you become queen, it won’t have to be a worry. Right?” His voice is strained.
“Right,” I say slowly, trying to process.
I don’t have parents to rule over me, to guide me in decisions. Who will I marry? More worrisome, who will they expect me to marry? My mind wanders to Lincoln, but our relationship is too new to consider marri
age.
“Will I have a, uh, counsel or something?”
“Yes, they will probably talk you through your options.” Kai looks inside my room, waiting for me to enter first.
My feet remain firmly planted. “If I’m the queen will I have a choice in who I marry?”
“Are we talking about my brother? The lesser, but much more withstandable, one?”
“Yes, but no. Maybe. I’m not sure.” My words trip over themselves, stumbling from my lips in an embarrassing stutter that makes Kai genuinely smile.
“That’s between you and your counsel,” he amends, with a sigh. Dragging a hand down his face, he motions with the other for me to go inside.
I shake my head. His smile quickly falters.
“Is something wrong?”
“I want to see a seer. Tomorrow.” It’s the first confident, and if I do say so myself, queenly command I’ve given. Though, I imagine a prince has little want to be commanded.
“Tomorrow?”
I nod.
Kai lets go of a long breath, looking me up and down. “Are you sure the Reminints aren’t still affecting you?”
“I’m fairly certain.”
“That’s enough for me.” His hands disappear behind his back, again. “I think I know of a seer we can go to that can help. It’s a rather hard and long trip for a human. Pack up a bag and I’ll make arrangements for tomorrow. Will that satisfy you?”
“It very much will.”
Kai bows. He takes my hand, flipping it, and presses a kiss to my palm the way he’s always done. Always so proper.
“Kai, are we friends?” Wow, Briar. What a fucking awkward way to say that.
“I like to think so.”
I take a step closer to him. He leans away but doesn’t move from where he stands. His lips tilt slightly into a frown. The smell of Reminints clings to his clothes, and his breath.
This court, though they haven’t left me alone except to get some sleep, has felt lonely. Lincoln hasn’t been here and while I’m sure Rowan would take me up on the offer, I need some form of contact. A hug. I just want a hug.
Trying to force every ounce of my stiff, gracelessness, I rush to close the space between us. I bury my face in the finery of his suit, weaving my hands under his arms, and fasten my grip around the hard, lean muscle he is built out of.
Kai feels like an immovable prop for the entirety of a minute. His words fan my hair onto my forehead as he talks against my head. “I’ve been awfully polite. I’ve tried very, very hard to keep some sort of space for you since you were not raised in our ways. You were exclusive, now you’re not. I, uh, understand this is by no means sexual or romantic, but I’m ecstatic that you’re doing it.” He melts over me. One arm winds over my back, the other presses my head against him, tucking it under his chin. We stand like this, soaking up each other.
As time passes our breathing synchronizes. Every heartbeat is shared. My warmth becomes his warmth and his mine, seeping into my very bones. I press my eyes shut tightly. The servants pass by us without a word. Their attention fixated on us for as long as they can before they’ve passed us and it’d be too rude for them to turn and gawk.
Yes, this is it. I needed this. I needed touch. I needed to feel close to someone and not just a guest in a foreign home.
Kai waits until I step back. He has a different sort of glow when we pull away. Perhaps we’re more alike than I’d thought. Perhaps… Kai needs physical affection too.
“Thank you.” I give him a small curtsey, pulling at the scraps of my skirt.
“Thank you.” Kai fiddles with the buttons of his white shirt. “It’s, uh, been a long time since someone has given me a genuine hug.”
Oh. I think back to the handcuffs. Kai doesn’t have lovers he has fuck buddies.
“That’s very sad.” I crinkle my nose. “Well I’m around if you need another one.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
His yellow eyes stay on me as I step into my room. I give him a slight wave, closing the door.
“I’ll be packed and ready for tomorrow.” I remind him just before I close it all the way. I wait, against the door, until I hear his footsteps fade down the hallway.
Anticipation, excitement, fear, anxiety, adrenaline, I’m not sure what emotion consumes me like fire. My veins are hot with it.
Carefully, I undo the thin straps on my heels and let them fall to the floor. My bare feet slap against the black and white tile. I dodge the furniture. A fire has been lit in the hearth for the evening, its heat waves over me as I jog by.
I don’t have a bag to pack with. At least not a duffle bag or even old grocery bags like what I had wadded up for days under my sink in the apartment. As soon as I open the closet door, light cascades down over the assortment of clothing that’s filled it. Gowns, gowns, and more gowns. Ranging from scandalous, to porn inspired.
Whatever this “long hard trip” is, gowns will not do. I can’t do anything in these slips of material. Not unless we are paying this seer with a brief flash of my chest. To be clear, we are NOT paying the seer with a glimpse of my prize winning ta-tas.
There is a wall of shoes, very few without heels. Slowly, I pan through them and find my old worn boots hidden amongst them. I grab them and hug the worn leather to me, the soles still smelling of my feet as I squeeze. Ah, my long-lost boots! What a reuniting moment. These have to come with. My boots have gotten me through more hard times than anything else.
Well, with the exception of Jase. The thought crosses my mind, fleeting and sorrowful.
Beside the shoes I find hooks. Purses. Mainly small clutches covered in rhinestones. Though, as I hoped, there’s a small option of oversized purses—totes. The largest bags hanging from the highest hooks, as if to discourage me from using them. I stretch on my toes, my fingers not even close enough to brush their fine materials.
Pouting, I look around for anything to reach up and knock it from its home. Nothing. So, as a last resort, I begin scaling the shelves for the shoes. Slowly at first, to get a feel for how sturdy the structure of it is. Under foot, the wood holds without a bend or protesting groan. A sure sign I’m safe to proceed.
My fingers clasp each shelf, holding on only with the whisper of the prayer on my lips. Sweat builds in my grip, under my fingers, making my hands slide ever so gently. I stretch a few shelves up, grazing along the edge of the bag. It swings on its hook.
I let out a huff of hair and clamber one shelf higher. This time I grab a shoe off its shelf and swing for the bag. My momentum plucks it from the hanger, just as it plucks me from my perch.
A nervous scream, unbecoming of a queen, leaves me. Wood scratches against my calves, my hands finally slipping from the shelves. I land roughly on my heels, teetering backward only to stumble to my butt. The ringing of my head hitting the metal hanger rod on the way down repeats, as pain blossoms in my skull.
I lay at the bottom of my closet with my eyes pressed tightly closed. A queen would have asked a servant to get it down for them. You don’t have to climb your closet, Briar. I scold myself.
A knot is already forming, sore to the touch, at the top of my crown. My shins feel rough, white and red scratches trail up them. Even my ankles, that took the brunt of my fall, ache.
So not the best start to whatever hard and long travel I’d be doing tomorrow…but it seems like just my luck.
Standing, I test my ankles. They hold me up even if they hurt. Every heartbeat in my head throbs in pain. Hopefully, I’ll sleep it off. Still, in victory the bag has fallen to the floor!
I smile. Maybe it’s just that I’m an independent person and I don’t need a servant to fetch my things.
The zipper opens easily to reveal the deep purse, enough to hold a few days’ worth of clothing. With little hope, I scan the closet for clothes. I’m NOT travelling in dresses. I refuse.
Wobbling slightly on each step, I move to a dresser. The drawers glide open, many filled with straight lingerie for sleeping. I c
an’t travel in that. Nope, not that either. When Kai said I should pack, what exactly did that mean to him?
The last drawer, I pull open with low expectations, is stuffed so full it hardly opens. I yank as I catch the blue of denim. Jeans. Oh, my god there are jeans. One last yank, and the drawer pops open.
It’s more than jeans. It’s sweatpants, joggers, leggings, different colored denims. And t-shirts! Is this from my mortal closet? I squeal, unable to contain my excitement. I understand holding to this fucking ruse in the Iron Court but I don’t think I’ve ever been more filled with joy by regular everyday clothes in my entire life.
I wish I was one of those girls who relished being in finery, but all I ever find myself thinking is how exposed or uncomfortable I am. Jeans and a t-shirt for life, baby. Leafing through the items, even going as far as to bring the materials to my face to breathe in the old scent of my apartment. I pick a few shirts and multiple jeans.
A shade of sorrow constricts my heart. It all smells so… homey. Like a long-ago cherished memory. I stuff the items into the bag.
Slowly, I settle myself onto my knees. My vision blurs, losing focus on my surroundings. The taste of home makes me only hungrier for normalcy.
Lincoln? I test the boundaries between us. His wall exists as it has, in the annoying way he put it up. I imagine walking up to it, knocking politely. Lincoln, I know you’re there.
Does he deserve my politeness when he left me with so little before I came here? You know what? No. I bang on the wall of his mind. I deserve his attention and a fucking explanation. Biting my lip, I force myself to push down the thoughts of how quickly I return to him, how quickly my mind finds a home in him. It’s probably just this unasked-for bond. But don’t think about it.
Lincoln Ziko. I scream. The tension traveling through my body as I clench my fists.
With a blink, his wall falls. Lincoln strolls into my mind with a nonchalance and unprecedented confidence.
Briar Anders. There is a smile on Lincoln’s lips, a warmth I can sense that makes me mimic the movement. Has my family overwhelmed you yet?