Fire Kin

by M. J. Scott

My stomach roiled. “No. Don’t even think about it.”

  “Asharic,” my father said. He gestured at the others who accompanied him. “We didn’t come here to see how you were doing. We came here to offer you the crown.”

  “No,” I repeated. “I don’t want it.”

  “It doesn’t matter if you want it,” Bryony said. Her voice sounded odd. Distant. “It matters that it wants you.”

  She might as well have picked up a dagger and stabbed me with it. “I said no.”

  Another dazzle of light sparked from Bryony’s necklace as her power flared, making the air shimmer. “Lord sa’Uriel. Ladies. Gentlemen. May I speak to Asharic alone?”

  My father nodded, then stood. He bowed to Bryony, shot an unreadable look in my direction, and then led the party out of the room.

  Which left Bryony and me staring at each other across the table. It felt more like a wall the size and height of the Templar battlements.

  “Have you lost your mind?” I asked. “I can’t be king.”

  “You already are. The land answered you. It answered you the second you stepped over the threshold when we went to see the court. This is inevitable.”

  Not to me it wasn’t. “Let me make this clear. I do not want to be king.”

  “And I don’t want to watch this City die,” Bryony said. “Which is exactly what will happen without the Fae to help us. Don’t you see? Fen was right. If you’re king, you can make them come back. You can save us.”

  “Who’s going to save me?” I shot back. “I—” I stopped, my throat closing. “You can’t think I want that, Bryony. Walled away in Summerdale. Apart from everything. From everyone.” I searched her face but her expression was implacable. “I don’t want it. Do you?”

  “Me?” She recoiled suddenly. “My life is here. My life is the hospital.”

  “Exactly,” I said. “So how can you expect me to live away from you? Unless . . . ” I hesitated. This was precisely the wrong time to say it and never how I’d imagined it in the endless nights I’d spent dreaming that perhaps one day I would get to see Bryony again, that the Lady might smile on me and my fate change so that I could be forgiven and get to go home.

  But it seemed the Lady still found me her favorite source of entertainment and she wasn’t done fucking with me yet. But still I had to say it. “Unless you come with me. Marry me. The queen chose to be alone, but it’s not against our laws for the king or queen to marry.”

  She went very still, frozen in place as the color drained from her face. Even her chain was quiet, icy silver against her snow-white skin.

  “Bryony.” I moved around the table. Took her hands. “It wouldn’t be so bad. Not if we’re together.”

  She shook her head, shivering suddenly. “I can’t go back there. That place . . . it’s wrong to live like that. Not caring about what goes on outside Summerdale. Thinking that only the Fae matter. That we’re better than all the other races.”

  “But that’s what you’re asking me to do,” I said. My voice shook. “To freeze myself. To give up everything I want. Don’t you love me at all?”

  Bryony stared at me and tears brimmed in her eyes. “I do love you,” she said. “But you have to be king. You have to end this war. I couldn’t live with myself if I asked you not to do that to be with me. But I’m sorry, Ash. I can’t do it with you.” She looked down for a moment and when she looked up the tears were falling. “And if you say no, then you’re not the man I love anymore.”

  Damned if I did and damned if I didn’t. It was a feeling I was all too familiar with. A feeling that I seemed cursed to experience far too often.

  Bryony loved me. I’d thought that was all I’d ever wanted to hear. If she’d told me that just a few hours ago, I would have been the happiest man alive. But now she told me and, in the same breath, told me that that love wasn’t enough to make her share my fate. I couldn’t even blame her for that.

  In her place I wouldn’t want to tie my fate to me either. To doom herself to a life of politics and scheming and wondering if the court was plotting against you and your Family as they had plotted against the queen.

  “I understand,” I said, and reached out to touch her face. Bent to kiss her one last time. Her lips were cool against mine, the touch so soft and fleeting because I couldn’t bear for it to go any longer. “Good-bye, love.”

  I heard the first sob escape her lips as I walked from the room.

  • • •

  As I expected, my father wanted me to come back to Summerdale and claim the crown there and then. I was too tired to fight him, still shocked by what was happening and by the fact that Bryony had rejected me. So I did what he wanted, figuring that at least, being in Summerdale and soaking in the power of the land for a few hours might make me feel semialive.

  The only thing I put my foot down about was when my father wanted to send for Bryony to accompany us.

  “Lady sa’Eleniel has patients to attend here,” I said. “There was fighting here last night and there are many wounded. I will not trouble her with this nonsense.” There must have been enough anger behind my words that my father didn’t argue the point. He and my mother both eyed me a little oddly as I climbed onto Aric’s back, but they stayed silent as we rode away from the City.

  • • •

  We set a punishing pace back to Summerdale. It was easier on the horses the others rode, Fae bred as they were. But I knew what Aric was capable of, and more than that, what the Fae healers could do to restore him on the other end. He would no more take harm from this than he would if he’d rested for the day in his stall in the Templar stables, and the run would do him good besides. Sunlight and no fighting or Beast Kind bursting out to attack us would restore his faith in the world perhaps. Even if it couldn’t restore mine.

  With every beat of his hooves carrying me closer, curses rolled through my mind. Curses on the Lady, on Ignatius Grey, on Salvia sa’Ambriel, and on most of the court who were supposedly waiting for me at our destination.

  By the time we actually reached the Gate, I’d worked up a fine head of steam.

  The Seneschal bowed low at my approach, which spoiled any last lingering hope I had that this might all be some horrible nightmare.

  I bowed in return, because she at least had done nothing but her duty her entire life and the last thing I needed was to start my reign—and that was a phrase that still made me want to laugh wildly—with the gatekeeper of my realm angry at me no matter my own mood.

  Within the gate there were carriages waiting for us, and servants with robes—it seemed I wasn’t going to escape Court dress this time—and still others to take our horses.

  I made sure Aric was taken care of and then climbed into a carriage with my parents. They sat opposite me, their expressions bland.

  “I’m guessing you never expected to be taking this particular journey,” I offered. This was the first time I’d been alone with both my parents in thirty years. I had to make some attempt at conversation, despite the anger burning in my stomach. After all, they were still willing to speak to me and I’d caused them little but pain since I was exiled. Though maybe I was covering myself in enough glory to make up for that now.

  “Oh, I don’t know, Asharic,” my mother said with a small smile. “I always knew you had power. And potential.”

  “Thanks for the warning,” I said.

  “There was nothing to warn you about while the queen lived,” she replied. “And even then, I didn’t know exactly how powerful you were. I’m not a seer, after all.”

  “Thank the Lady for that,” I said. If I’d had any inkling that this might be my fate, then I’d have asked for a lot more gold from the Templars to agree to even come near the City. Though that was a lie. It was Bryony who’d drawn me back once I was free to return. Bryony whose hold I couldn’t break.

  Not that that had done me any good either. Now I had a few more memories of her and worse, would have to live with actually seeing her from time to time—after all,
she would be one of my subjects—and not being able to touch her. I wondered if the queen had had a lover before she’d taken the throne. And if she’d had to leave him or her behind as well.

  I’d never know.

  My parents and I exchanged small talk—them asking concerned questions about the fighting last night and whether I was hurt—as we traveled toward the court. I half hoped that someone might be stupid enough to attack us as they had Lord sa’Eleniel’s carriages. I could do with a few people to kill painfully right now. It might make me feel better.

  But it seemed that no one was bold enough to challenge me today.

  All too soon we reached the court.

  There was a squad of the Queen’s Guard—the King’s Guard I guess they were about to become—waiting for us. The captain held the queen’s sword out to me, the blade of it—its curious metal gleaming in the sun blazing down on us—flat across his palms.

  I glanced at the sun. Wasn’t the land supposed to shape itself to my mood, if I were king? I was in no mood for sunlight. Give me a few thunderbolts instead. Freezing sleet and a tornado even. But the sky stayed blue. Perhaps the land was free to ignore me when it chose. Or maybe I actually had to be proclaimed king to hold it to my will.

  I had no idea exactly how that happened. The queen had been crowned hundreds of years before I was born.

  “What happens now?” I said to my father.

  “We go to the court and you state your claim. If no one challenges you, then you’re king.”

  I stared at him. “That’s it?”

  “There will be a coronation at some point, but that’s just pageantry,” he said. “You’re king if the land accepts you and the court offers no challenge.”

  “In that case, let’s get this over with,” I said. “I have business elsewhere.”

  I saw several of the Fae who’d traveled with us arch their eyebrows at this and smiled grimly to myself. They wanted me to be king, so apparently I was going to be king. But once I was king, I was going to do things my way.

  After all, if I couldn’t do that much, what was the point?

  The sound of my bootheels striking stone seemed louder than it should when I stepped onto the marble that marked the boundaries of the court.

  There was little space that was free, other than the avenue—maybe eight feet across—that had been left clear. A path that led straight to the throne, I noted. The rest of the marble was crowded with more Fae than I had ever seen in one place before. I suspected that every member of any Family with the slightest link to a High Family was here. And maybe quite a few that hadn’t.

  I stared down at the throne. My destination.

  And I began to walk.

  The silence was deafening. There was no breeze and it seemed everyone was frozen in place, only the faintest rustling of clothing as they turned to watch me pass breaking the eerie stillness. In contrast, the earthsong of the Veiled World thundered in my head, louder than it ever had, the sound of it curiously triumphant.

  I wondered what would happen if I told it to shut up but didn’t want to risk the experiment. I walked on, the skin between my shoulder blades crawling as I braced myself for the attack I half expected. But none came and I reached the throne still alive.

  Sick at heart and half-delirious perhaps but still alive.

  I turned to face the assembled Fae, wondering what the hells I was meant to say as the Guard took up position behind me and to each side. My parents melted into the crowd and the other Fae took their places in the front row of the crowd to my right. I ignored them as I studied the faces in the crowd, willing my heartbeat to slow. As luck would have it, the first face I truly recognized belonged to Lord sa’Eleniel. Who nodded once, then looked past me, obviously seeking his daughter. When he didn’t see her, he frowned. Then turned that frown at me. I made myself look elsewhere. And found Salvia’s face in the crowd. She looked as though she wanted to strangle me.

  Good. Let her try.

  I straightened my shoulders and let the point of the sword drop forward so it rang against the marble. I had no fear that I might blunt the blade. I doubted little short of being dropped into a volcano could blunt that blade.

  “I am Asharic sa’Uriel’pellar,” I said, trusting that they would all be able to hear me. I’d never struggled to hear the queen anytime I attended court. “Today I was offered the crown of the Veiled Court. Does anyone care to challenge my right to claim it?”

  Silence.

  I waited. It wasn’t going to be straightforward. I knew that Salvia couldn’t let it go quite so easily. Sure enough, another sa’Oriel redhead—one I didn’t recognize—stepped forward.

  “And you are?” I said.

  “Kilvian sa’Oriel,” he said. He looked vaguely green though resolute.

  Fucking Salvia.

  I nodded at Kilvian. “Very well.” I hefted my sword and the crowd drew a collective breath. Then I pointed the blade at Kilvian and flung a binding spell at him, drawing on the power flowing beneath my feet. He froze in place, mouth half-open. His chest rose and fell, the breaths growing quicker as he fought against my spell. I waited. A minute passed. Then another. It was painfully clear that Kilvian couldn’t best me.

  I heard stifled laughter somewhere in the crowd.

  Bloody Fae. There was nothing funny about this situation.

  I lowered my sword. “Anybody else?” I said. I fastened my gaze on Salvia. “How about you, Lady sa’Ambriel? Anyone else you care to throw at me?”

  A flush crept up her throat, hate flaring in her eyes. But she stayed where she was. Which pretty much told me all I needed to know about her. She was a spider, that one, good at pulling strings but, at the face of it, only as strong as the web she wielded. She didn’t have the power to challenge me herself.

  “No,” she said when I waited long enough to make it clear that I expected an answer.

  “Good.” I looked out over the crowd. Found my father and mother again. My father smiled at me. No escape, then.

  “I am Asharic sa’Uriel’pellar,” I said again. “Your king.” The marble shook then, a long, low ripple, as the sword I held sparked silver fire.

  The court sank to its knees, Salvia sa’Ambriel taking a few seconds longer than the rest to give the obeisance.

  I looked out over them and wanted to smack sense into all of them. But it was done now. I was king.

  Which meant starting, as I meant to go on.

  “Captain,” I said. “You will escort Lady sa’Ambriel to the—” I’d almost said queen’s palace. “To the palace. You will keep her there until I return to speak to her. She is to see no one.”

  “By what right—” Salvia started to rise, the words sputtering from her mouth.

  “I am king,” I said. “I can do as I please. But as it happens, I believe you to be guilty of treason to the crown and the court, Lady sa’Ambriel. And I will not let you poison my court as you tried to poison the queen’s.” I stared at her, not caring about the fury on her face. “And I will thank you not to speak again until I speak to you.” I laid a binding on her with a gesture, taking care to let the power I used echo so that everyone was aware of what I had done.

  Salvia’s eyes widened and her mouth moved, but no sound came out as four of the guards surrounded her and drew her away.

  “Let me be clear about one thing,” I said to the rest of the court—to everybody who had come to listen. “I am not the Veiled Queen. But I am your king. And I share her desire for peace. I will re-form the treaty between the races and I will be starting that process as soon as possible. So ready yourselves. Because there will be no more hiding here in Summerdale. Not until the treaty is restored and there is peace. We will fight the Blood and the Beast Kind. We will not leave the humans to stand on their own. No matter what the cost.”

  Chapter Twenty-three

  BRYONY

  Ash was king. King of the Veiled Court. He hadn’t, from what I had heard, adopted the veils that had been the queen’s conce
it, so I wasn’t going to call him the Veiled King. I was hoping not to call him anything at all. I hadn’t seen him since he returned from Summerdale two days earlier, but there was no mistaking the sense of him that pulsed through the City. There was no longer an empty place at the center in the Fae lines of power. Once more they had a beating heart.

  A heart gained while mine had been shattered again. And if I was ever to mend it, I needed not to see Ash. I’d used the very full hospital as my excuse and remained at St. Giles, getting my updates on the Templars’ plans via Simon and Fen and Lily.

  They told me about Ash’s plans as well. I could avoid the man, but I couldn’t avoid news of the new king, it seemed. I heard about how he had issued an ultimatum to Ignatius, giving him until the end of the week to rejoin negotiations for peace. About how he had sworn to bring Ignatius to heel if that ultimatum wasn’t met.

  More than I wanted to hear even if it was information I needed to know.

  Ash hadn’t come looking for me. I didn’t know whether I was thankful for that or if it only made things worse. If I could feel any worse. Ash was king. Lost to me again.

  But unlike before, this time he was lost but still close by. Still within reach. There was no pretending he didn’t exist. That fact was undeniable. As was the fact that he didn’t have to be out of reach.

  If I was willing to give up everything I’d worked for and become a pretty ornament in the Fae Court.

  It would make my father happy. It would make Ash happy, but the thought made me want to crawl out of my skin. No matter how much I missed Ash and how many times I found myself wishing for something to ease the searing ache in my chest.

  So I did what any sensible person would do. I denied the pain and poured my energy into the hospital while we waited out the days until Ash’s offer of negotiation expired. Day by oh so long day until only one more day remained.

  Hiding, some might call it.

  And if so, who could blame me for that? Hiding brought some small respite at least. This morning, I had retreated even farther, seeking sanctuary within the four walls of my office and giving orders for no one to bother me.