by May Dawson
Suddenly he sank to his knees. Those broad shoulders bowed before me, his head intimately close to my inner thighs.
But all he did was lift my foot and gently slip one shoe on. I set my foot down, fury lancing through me as intense as his had been a moment earlier.
“I don’t need you to dress me like a child,” I said, but he was already grabbing my foot. I struggled to pull away, but though his fingers were gentle on my skin, his hands were steel. I wobbled, about to fall, and almost had to reach out to catch his shoulders to steady myself.
I stopped then, drawing myself to my full height, and let him slip the damned shoe onto my foot.
He rose in front of me again. There was a spark of challenge in his eyes when he said, “But now I intend to be a good servant.”
I stared at him, feeling anger like a fist pressing into my chest. I shouldn’t give a damn what he thought—I barely knew him, he should be nothing to me—but he could hurt me, somehow.
“I hate you,” I warned him.
But I hated myself more, for letting him hurt me.
“If only it were that simple,” he assured me. He swept his arm toward the door. “Well, Majesty?”
Chapter Thirty-Three
Azrael
Seven years earlier
They called a formation in the middle of one day, when we were supposed to be going to lunch. That was always a big deal, and when I saw Alisa in the crowd running to join the group, I grabbed her sleeve.
“What did you do now?” I joked, before I really saw the pale, drawn look on her face.
She had done something.
I pulled her close to whisper in her ear, “If there’s any chance you might get away with it, you’d better wipe that look off your face. You look guilty as sin itself.”
She nodded. I wished I had time to talk to her about what was going on, but the alarm gong was chiming incessantly, making it almost impossible to speak to each other. She was already re-arranging her face though, writing her usual blasé expression across it.
“It was for a good cause,” she said softly. “Unavoidable. I don’t want you to think I’m stupid.”
I’d never think that. But she was already running for the first-year assembly, and I fell in with the other seniors.
Galic was smirking, the asshole. I was sure he was connected somehow.
The incessant ringing of the gong had set us all on edge, even before Vail stepped up before us all. The look on his face was somber with disappointment. I’d always known Vail to be heavy-handed but fair.
“Someone stole from my office,” he said, his voice heavy. “Riders this morning brought the mail from the city, but all of my mail seems to have disappeared. I hope the guilty party will step forward.”
I glanced from the corner of my eye, but no one stirred in the crowd. I couldn’t imagine walking to the front of the assembly, past all these students standing at attention, to face Vail publicly. The thought of Alisa strolling forward made my chest tight.
“I know who it was.” Galic’s voice broke the silence. He cut his eyes my way, his gaze malevolent, as he stepped forward from the crowd. “I saw Faer leave the office and I followed him.”
“And then what?” Vail demanded, his voice icy.
I couldn’t see Alisa from here. She was shorter than most of the other first years, so she blended into the crowd. Duncan was there at the front, though, standing head-and-shoulders above the rest of the Fae. He glowered at Galic, his eyes narrowed with hatred. I hadn’t realized he and ‘Faer’ had grown to be friends.
“And then he burned them!” Galic delivered this damning news as if it were delicious in his mouth.
“Did it occur to you to stop him?” Vail asked coldly.
Some of Galic’s exuberance fled.
“Faer, come here, please.” Vail’s chilly voice was frightening.
Alisa stepped out of the crowd and made her way up to face him. Galic had that damned smile plastered across his face again, the one that made me want to force him to choke down every tooth he had on display.
Vail and Alisa spoke quietly. I couldn’t see what he said to her, or what she said. Knowing Alisa, she had some spin, some story.
But she must have confessed to something. Because he looked up and out at the crowd, and said, “Very well. We’ll take care of this immediately.”
My heart seized in my chest as Vail nodded at two of the academy instructors, who seized Alisa’s arms. Floggings were rare at the academy, but when they did happen, some students tried to run. Not Alisa, though. She went with them calmly, her head held high.
But her eyes met mine, just for a second, across the distance. A rueful smile came to her lips.
She was about to be uncovered. Maybe they wouldn’t whip her when they found out who she was—that thought sparked relief for me—but she’d certainly be escorted back to Herrick’s castle. Or maybe they’d beat her senseless for the prank she’d played on them all, making the all-male academy look like a pack of fools.
Vail murmured a word, and the trees that framed him unfurled their branches, opening up to bind her to the trunk.
“Stop,” I called, pushing through my fellow students. Duncan gaped at me from the front of the first-years.
Vail turned, shock written across his face. I was always a model student.
And I’d be one now, too.
“According to rule thirty-seven in our guide book, Faer is my responsibility as my junior,” I said. “His mistakes are my fault as well, and correcting him is up to me.”
Vail stared at me, amusement entering his cold gray eyes. “Always so studious, Azrael. But rule seventy-nine allows instructors to select their own punishments for students who fail in particularly spectacular ways.”
Alisa shrugged at that, as if she at least were spectacularly in trouble. It made me want to shake her when I was all keyed up, but I was committed now.
“True, but I think it’s in paragraph D of rule thirty-seven that any student can take a fellow student’s punishment,” I said. “Then I regain my right to beat Faer mercilessly myself.”
I fixed Alisa with a cold smile. This play might work just because Faer and I were so obviously often at odds throughout this year. And because I was famously proud and insufferable, as Alisa had so kindly put it.
Vail sighed as he glanced between us. “I will never understand royalty. But very well. If you insist.”
He stood back, sweeping his arm with a half-bow toward the tree.
To Faer, he said, “You can stand close by and watch.”
“No,” Alisa began.
I grabbed her shoulder and leaned close, letting my temper flare in front of the audience. I let my words carry to them. “For once in your life, Faer, try to pay attention. Learn something.”
With our faces close together, my back to Vail and our fellow students, I could wink at her. This was the only way to keep her secret safe. I would do anything for her, and I hoped she really would learn that she could trust my love.
I knew she understood what I was doing. For a second, her eyes looked luminous, as if she were about to cry. Then her chin rose.
I drew off my gloves without hesitating, unbuttoned my coat, and passed both to her. Despite the fact she was still dressed, her legs trembled, as if she’d forgotten to warm herself and the cold was beginning to seep in. I drew my tunic off over my head and draped it over the pile in her arms.
Then I pressed my bare chest against the trunk of the tree, feeling the rough bark against my cheek. I felt a tic begin in my jaw, as fear of what was to come washed over me, and I hoped no one else saw it.
The branches wrapped around my arms and spread them wide. Another one crept across my lower back, immobilizing me completely.
I promised myself I wouldn’t scream.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Alisa
Faer seemed to be enjoying himself at his party, as he usually did.
There’d be no running to the throne to es
cape the crowds tonight. Faer already sat on the throne. One Fae female perched on his lap, trading kisses with him. A second stood behind him, massaging his shoulders. She seemed content to be all-but-ignored, smiling widely and staring down at the back of his head with affection written across her face.
Faer looked dissolute and pleased with himself as he steadily worked the skirt up of the girl in his lap, his hands gliding over ever-more-apparent pale silvery flesh.
“Who are they?” I asked Azrael abruptly. He stood at my left shoulder, ready to whisper into my ear.
“Laina, a summer court noble who would love to be Queen,” he said, his gaze flickering to the one who all but writhed across Faer’s lap as he smiled smugly. “And Tresa, of the sea court. Faer seems to find them both pleasing, but they’re two of…several.”
“Do you think they feel debased?” I asked. “Or are they genuinely… enjoying themselves?”
“I think those are questions best not asked in the court.” His voice was matter-of-fact.
There was no sign on Azrael’s face in his voice that we’d just had that ugly fight.
He was my blank-faced, handsome servant.
I knew better than to believe that was his true identity.
“You’re loyal to your duty, at least,” I told him, taking the drink out of his hand as soon as he’d taken it from a passing servant. I raised the glass to him in a brief toast. “Though not to me.”
He stared down at me, his face still expressionless, but something dangerous sparked in those dark eyes.
“Once, Alisa, I owed the autumn court my loyalty, and I gave it to you instead. Drink to that.” His tone was cool.
His words were a harsh reminder that I hadn’t gained my memories today. Without them, I didn’t know how to fight my brother for the crown, or if I even wanted to. Perhaps I should go back to the human world.
But the summer court seemed to be falling into pieces. That felt like my fault. My responsibility.
“How many other children work in the summer court because their villages couldn’t pay their taxes any other way?” I demanded.
“I don’t know the count,” Azrael said.
“Don’t be insufferable.”
He shrugged one shoulder. “I’d guess dozens, if not hundreds.”
“That’s barbaric.” My fingers were wrapped so tightly around my glass they ached, and I forced myself to relax my grip. “Why don’t you do anything about it, Azrael?”
He smiled humorlessly. “If there even was anything I could do about it, I’d still tell you once again to keep your mouth shut in the midst of the court.”
“Everyone around here keeps their mouths shut, don’t they?” I said.
I’d been mistaken for a mortal this morning. These people would never see me as a potential queen until they saw me as Fae, just like them. They didn’t see humans as being worthy of any consideration.
“Change me back,” I said. “You said you could break the enchantment once we were on this side. So change me back.”
“I can’t,” he said.
“You can’t or you won’t?” I demanded. I glanced at Azrael, wondering if this was an order of Faer’s.
Azrael’s gaze followed mine, then flickered back to my face. His lip curled faintly on one side, as if he read my thoughts. As if he still knew me that well.
“You’re a good servant, as you said.” I leaned against him, my hands sliding up the hard planes of that chest so I could raise my lips close to his ear. “But you’re not my servant, are you?”
His gaze caught mine. “Find a way to make me yours, then.”
His words were a puzzle to untangle later. He was trying to tell me something important. I stared back into those vivid purple eyes.
“Where are Tiron and Duncan?” I asked.
“Duncan can’t be trusted in a crowd,” he said, “and you can’t be trusted with Tiron.”
I scoffed at that. “I want them to attend tomorrow, if we have another one of these damned parties.”
Azrael’s lips tightened into a line. “Tiron is too outspoken for this setting, Alisa.”
After a moment, he added, “You shouldn’t be here either. But I can’t help that.”
“Feeling protective of me, Azrael?” I teased. “Or just afraid I’ll embarrass you? Or that I’ll accidentally start a war?”
His gaze met mine levelly. “Why choose just one?”
I patted his cheek—his eyes sharpened at the condescending gesture. Despite myself, it was hard not to notice how smooth and warm his skin was against my palm, how his cheekbones and strong jaw seemed to have been carved from marble by an artist, making him obnoxiously beautiful.
“I wish you were on my side,” I told him softly. “But I’m not afraid to be alone.”
His jaw tensed, but I didn’t wait to hear whatever he was going to say next. Trading barbs might be a pleasant pastime, but it wasn’t going to set my kingdom to rights.
I crossed the ballroom toward the dais, ignoring the people who tried to speak to me. I’d spent the past few nights being polite and apparently, it had only increased the whispering about how I no longer knew how to play the game.
Raile fell into step beside me. His tall, powerful body in a gray uniform carried a presence that was hard to ignore.
“What kind of trouble have you found lately, Princess?”
“Not now, Raile,” I told him.
He stopped me with a hand on my shoulder, turning me to face him, and I gave him a look.
“You’re lucky that my ire is reserved for someone else tonight,” I warned him.
“I’ll take your ire over being ignored,” he told me, his jaw tense. “I’m not accustomed to being dismissed so rudely.”
“Then something so new and novel must be exciting for you,” I told him, before continuing across the ballroom. I had to wind my way around the clusters of people conversing, then duck the couples spinning across the dance floor.
They’d melted aside for Faer when he passed. I promised myself that one day they would do the same for me.
Faer was still reclining in his throne on the dais. My twin throne was beside it, but Tresa perched on the arm. Faer had his hand on her thigh and was leaning over to kiss her while the other girl straddled his lap.
As I climbed the stairs, Faer noticed me. He watched me with one eye, not bothering to take his lips from Tresa’s. I reached the top and faced the three of them, crossing my arms.
“You’ll both need to leave,” I said softly. “My brother and I need to speak.”
Tresa smiled against Faer’s lips. “I don’t think your brother wants to speak…”
I couldn’t keep standing here awkwardly in front of Faer while another girl sat on my throne. The entire court was watching, waiting to see what I’d do next.
Raile had warned me that when people disrespected me and I did nothing, the Fae thought I wasn’t worthy to rule.
I grabbed her by the back of the neck. She let out a squeal. God, I hope she’s a terrible person, or I’m being one myself.
“I don’t like to repeat myself,” I told her as I dragged her toward the edge of the dais. I hoped she’d take the message she couldn’t win, and she’d walk away. I didn’t want to hurt her.
She tried to pull back out of my hold. Her feet slipped out from under her as she struggled. I tried to pull her back onto the dais as she teetered on the edge of the stairs.
There was no saving her, though. I was about to fall down the steps with her, so I let go, taking a step back. I forced myself to compose my face into a cruel mask as she rolled down the steps with a squeal.
I watched her until she came to a stop at the base of the stairs.
The music had stopped. The room was silent and everyone was staring at me. Azrael’s face was shocked, then he composed himself.
Raile smirked, crossing his arms over his chest. He looked almost proud of me.
She rose to her knees, letting out a shaky sob, then looked u
p at me with hatred written across her face. I smiled back at her. Too late to do anything now but play the game. I raised my hand, waving her off.
“Music, please,” I ordered softly.
Bright strains of fiddle music began instantly. She stumbled to her feet and ran toward the entrance to the ballroom.
I didn’t wait to watch her go. I turned my back on the crowd and faced Alaina. She stood beside Faer, who had propped his face on his hand and his elbow on the throne. He was watching me with open curiosity.
And she was no longer touching him.
“Leave us, please,” I said.
She fled past—giving me a wide berth—before she rushed down the steps. Her skirts fluttered behind her and she yanked her untied corset against her breasts.
I sat down on my own throne. “We need to talk, brother of mine.”
“I’m always here at your pleasure, sister of mine.” He leaned back in his chair. His eyes were intent and watchful. “You don’t even need to manhandle my friends to get my attention.”
“Tell your friends to stay off my throne, then.”
“No disrespect meant, I’m sure,” he said.
“I’m sure.” I leaned back, matching his expression of careless ease. The court had returned to dancing, talking and—from this vantage point, I could see for the first time—fucking against the walls, for a particularly adventurous couple. They seemed to have tails, which whipped around them with ecstasy. But I had the feeling we were being watched closely, no matter how busy the court looked now.
“I like it up here,” I said.
We had quite the view of the dancers in their colorful gowns and suits. I glimpsed tails and ears and horns, Fae with faces like cats and like dragons. The high goblins and the trolls lurked around the edges of the dance floor, and they looked wistful, as if they might like to dance too.