Queen of Fire

by K. V. Adair

  “The other issue is of the throne. Our queen is ignorant of our ways. She has no training on how to rule, so there are those who whisper in her ear, directing her path, and rule in her stead. We need a high king, one who understands the delicacy of politics and can defend us when, not if, the Unseelie attack.”

  “And I’m guessing you’re going to suggest your brother as king?” Eoin said. His voice was cool and composed, unaffected by her implications.

  She shook her head. “While I have no doubt my brother would make a fine ruler, we as a whole will never agree on who should wear the crown. We need another way to decide.”

  “And how do you suggest we do that?”

  “We let fate decide and solve two problems at the same time. The queen will lay with a chosen member of each royal family. Whoever impregnates her gains the throne.”

  “Fuck that,” I said. “You all are not playing Russian roulette with my uterus.”

  “And how will the order be decided?” Someone asked, completely ignoring my objection.

  The fact that no one else spoke up in my defense hurt. Not even Eoin. I would have thought he’d have an opinion on it since it affected him, too.

  “Zephyr has forfeited the right to be a part of this with their disgraceful actions. Should a new family rise in power and oust the last, they could be considered again. As for order, I suggest we continue as past has dictated. It was Zephyr’s turn, but that is forfeited now. Hailstone, Ember, then Tellus. Innis will be first.”

  “Not if he wants to keep his dick. I’m not going anywhere near him.”

  Niamh looked at me with sad eyes but conviction on her face. I started to believe I was misreading her. “You will do your duty, Highness. No matter how unpleasant you find it.”

  “How is this any different than what they did?” I asked, gesturing to Tiergan.

  She smiled. “This time, it’s more fair to everyone else.”

  I wanted to vomit. All over her face.

  “Have you lost your fucking mind, Nia?” Innis words cut sharply through the silence.

  All sadness and regret vanished from her face and heat filled her eyes. “You of all people should understand. Was it not you who told me my duty was to spread my legs to the high king to make him happy? All so you could benefit from it? Now that it isn’t your sister you find it distasteful?”

  Innis’ jaw tightened. “It’s not the same thing.”

  “How isn’t it? I made a sacrifice for our family. Now it’s your turn.”

  “It’s different because you came back. You agreed. No one forced you down against your will. You had a choice.”

  “A choice?” Anger choked the word out of her. “I had no choice. And don’t presume you know anything about my will. My desires didn’t matter. Only yours.”

  His face softened. “This isn’t about my desires, either. You want to know the difference? You would be wed to one male. You suggest she be used and traded around like a whore without the benefit of gold.”

  Someone snickered. They were lucky I had zero magic.

  He reached out and brushed his finger against her cheek. Awkward tension filled the air. It was an intimate moment between siblings that I doubted either of them wanted witnessed.

  “I’ve made mistakes. I won’t make this one.”

  “While touching, it isn’t up to just you, Innis.” Someone standing among who I assumed were the earth Fae. “If you won’t do your duty, choose another among your people in your stead.”

  Innis turned to face the speaker, face tight and eyes narrow. “Not up to me? Are you sure about that, Verlin?”

  Verlin gestured around. “We’ll vote. All in favor of letting fate decide, say aye.”

  There were too many aye’s. My mouth went dry. I glanced over at Eoin, but his eyes were on Innis, his brow furrowed. He didn’t speak in my defense.

  “Since when do we vote on matters regarding the crown? The choice isn’t ours; it is our queen’s.” Innis looked toward me, his face neutral.

  “That’d be a no,” I said. “I’m not open for business.”

  Tiergan chortled. It was a disgusting, nasally sound. “I see no queen. I see a child, more human than Fae, an outsider. She has no voice in this.”

  Innis sighed loudly. “You are no longer part of this conversation, little king.” He strode forward, in front of the dais but not on it and faced the crowd. “You don’t have to like her. Titania knows, I don’t.”

  “Yeah, right back at you,” I muttered.

  He stiffened, apparently able to hear me. “She is still Liam’s heir, his sister. He may be gone, but his legacy remains. You respected him, listened to him, loved him even. You would destroy that legacy? For what?”

  “What do you suggest instead? A lottery? A high king must be chosen.”

  Uaine spoke up, “A lottery sounds no different than passing the queen around like the main course at a feast. And it’d be faster. Gets my vote.”

  “We need heirs. We need the bloodline to continue. A lottery, which can be fixed, will not provide that. Besides, we need strength in these dark times. A strong seed—”

  I gagged. These people really needed a new way to word things.

  “Is this what we’ve become?” Innis shouted, startling me and many of the others with the sharpness in his tone. “Rapists? Abusers? How are we any different from the Unseelie? If anything, we’d be worse.”

  There were a chorus of grumbles but no one spoke loud enough for me to hear. Probably for the best.

  Innis continued, “Assaulting the queen, and make no mistake forcing her to bed is assault, is treason against the crown. When I took leadership over Hailstone, I vowed to protect the throne above all else, even my own people. So did all of you.”

  “My vow was to our High King, not an outsider. I’ve seen no evidence she is even sister to our High King or daughter of our previous one.”

  Innis shook his head, but didn’t say anything.

  Verlin looked at me, the first time someone had acknowledged my presence for a long time. “Can you offer proof of your heritage?”

  “I…” I looked to Eoin. He mouthed the word magic.

  Figured. I closed my eyes and focused, reaching down to where I believed my magic lived. It remained dormant, dead.

  I focused harder, but it felt useless.

  When I opened my eyes, I saw Tiergan smirking. Innis stared at me, expectant, and then disappointment crossed his face.

  My body temperature rose. “Well, I guess that means you don’t have to pass me around anymore.”

  I didn’t see the knife before it slashed across my face. There were shouts and gasps. Innis jumped on the dais, his eyes on my cheek where there was now a deep gash. I knew it was deep because it hurt like a fucking bitch.

  I glared over at Eoin, bloody knife in hand. Deidre’s blade was against his throat, and she looked at me, waiting for my orders.

  “That hurt, asshole,” I said.

  He smiled widely. “You’re welcome.”

  There were more gasps. I looked back at Innis, and his eyes were wide.

  He reached out and touched the wound.

  I slapped his hand away. “I don’t want an infection.”

  He scoffed. “Kind of hard to infect unbroken skin.”

  “What?” I reached up and gently ran my fingers down my smooth cheek.

  “I guess that answers that question,” Uaine said.

  Innis turned to address the nobles again. He stood in front of me, like an overprotective brother.

  “Anyone want to argue that she is not of royal blood? Do you need another example?”

  “No more cutting, please,” I said.

  “I vowed to protect the throne, and my word is bond.” He looked directly at Tiergan and flicked his wrist.

  Ice shackles appeared around Tiergan’s wrists. “Treason is punished with death.”

  The air Fae shuffled around their king, throwing angry looks at Innis. The tension was palpable, and we
were four seconds from an all out magic frenzy.

  “Any nation who participates in harming the queen will be considered traitors and an act of war. Hailstone is loyal to the crown. War against them is war with us.”

  Shocked silence surrounded us. The Zephyrs looked uneasy.

  “We stand with Hailstone behind the crown as well,” Uaine said.

  The uneasiness increased.

  Tiergan spoke, “You would plunge our people into a civil war instead of remaining united against our enemies? You doom us all.”

  “I will not be the one causing war among us. That is your choice, or rather, the choice of your replacement. Unless your people wish to declare war on us, they will replace you.”

  Tiergan snarled. “You play a dangerous game, child.”

  He looked over at Verlin. “Will you stand with them against me, or honor our alliance?”

  Verlin looked from Uaine to Innis. His gaze fell on me. There was no love in his eyes. Or like for that matter.

  “Tellus’ loyalty belongs to the throne and our queen.”

  “You will regret this. All of you,” Tiergan said.

  Innis sighed and then turned to me. “What are you orders, my queen?”

  I looked at Tiergan. His fate was in my hands, and he knew it. Facing the might of the rest of the nations would be suicide.

  I wasn’t sure of my actual options, but I knew I had at least two. Both seemed a bit mundane, and neither would satisfy the pain I would carry the rest of my days because of his actions.

  “Death would be a mercy, Little King, so I will stay my blade. Rotting in a dungeon for the rest of your days would be more satisfying, but your presence in my home infects it.”

  I paused for effect. No one could have planned for this to happen. Not Eoin, either. The nobles looking at me with a mixture of fear and curiosity would know this came from me and me only. This was my chance to show I would not be fucked with without consequences.

  “You have declared yourself my enemy, so you shall join them,” I continued. “You and every one of your kin are banished. No one you call family will ever be allowed to recross the barrier from the Unseelie lands to mine.”

  I fully embraced the concept of fake it until you make it. And since no one had actually argued with me, I called this a win.

  Tiergan growled. “You would throw your lover to the wolves as well?”

  I let the whole lover thing go. “You disowned him. He is no kin of yours, didn’t you say?”

  “But he is of my blood and therefore bound by your decree.”

  “I said nothing about blood. Only kin and those you call family.” I grinned. “Some of us are more careful with our wording.”

  I realized Bryna would also be considered his kin. I was unsure of how I felt about her, but she’d spoken up for me at a great risk.

  And she’d been the one to get Aidan. I owed her a fate better than exile.

  “As for Bryna, she is no longer your daughter, no longer kin.”

  Tiergan snarled. “That’s not something you can proclaim.”

  I snorted. “I’m the fucking High Queen. I’ll proclaim what I want. And until the nation of Zephyr can figure out their leadership, Bryna will be regent. Uh, the ruler, or whatever you call it.”

  I addressed the rest of the nobles. I noticed a smirk on Feoras’ face. When our eyes met, he bowed his head in respect.

  “Prince Innis was correct. You don’t have to like me. God knows I don’t like most of you. But I am my brother’s heir and the crown as much as I don’t want it rests on my head. Cross me and you’ll face the same fate as Tiergan.”

  Fear filled the room. Fear of me. I knew from experience, that people tended to answer to fear in one of two ways. Fight or flight. I didn’t need any fight.

  “Try me. I dare you,” I finished.

  Innis turned his head slightly and whispered, “You’ve made your point. Quit while you are ahead.”

  The polite thing would have been to thank him for backing me up. I wasn’t in the mood to be polite.

  His eyes met mine, dark in the artificial light. He looked more amused than anything.

  “And, Morgan? It’s King Innis.”

  Before I could have the ben síde remove Tiergan and his people from the hall, Niamh spoke up again. “None of this answers how you will choose a consort. My brother has made it clear it will be your choice, but necessity demands you make it soon.”

  I was really starting to like her less and less. “I’m not marrying Innis.”

  She smiled softly. “I understand that things work much different in your world. We must seem so primitive to talk of forced bonds, of expectations outside your desire, but we all know the threat, and you do not. You must choose.”

  “I’d prefer to get a few dates in until I pledge the rest of my life to someone.” No one seemed to be amused. I didn’t know how many points I’d scored handling Tiergan—or lost—but I couldn’t not respond.

  I knew enough about the Unseelie from Eoin and enough about people’s natures that ignoring the threat would gain me no allies.

  But neither would my choice.

  “I said before, the person who brings me my brother’s killer or killers can have my hand.”

  Eoin was the one to speak up this time. “That may never happen, my queen. And it’s a foolish way to decide.”

  I bristled at him calling me stupid but let it pass. This wasn’t the place to argue with him, but I also thought he was wrong.

  “A lottery would be preferred? Or an orgy? At least wedding who found the one responsible for Liam’s death means the high king will be competent, right?”

  Eoin looked like he was going to argue, but I held up my hand to silence him. I went back to addressing the gathered Fae. I had an idea. It was likely the dumbest idea I’d ever had, but it would buy me time.

  I hoped.

  “No matter who I choose, the other three nations will object. Already you plot in your heads. No use denying it. And I get it. Unlike previous generations whoever sits at my side has far more influence simply due to the fact I’m ignorant.”

  “Glad you finally admitted that,” Innis mumbled under his breath.

  “Ignorance isn’t stupidity, though,” I continued, ignoring him. “And I understand enough about how this place works to know that no matter who I choose, it’ll be the wrong decision. There’s a reason the throne has stayed with my bloodline. Balance.”

  “What do you mean?” the fire king, Uaine asked.

  “While one of my bloodline always took a consort from one of the four nations, they were still the one in power. And as a system it worked.” I was making a lot of assumptions, but since no one was correcting me, I went with it.

  “If I am to understand correctly, we have an imminent threat from the Unseelie. But the true threat is in this room. Fracture. Civil war. Greed. And power. I choose, and the rest of you turn on me. I’m not playing that game.”

  “What exactly are you trying to say, my queen?” Innis asked, looking confused. “You won’t take a consort at all?”

  “No. I will not take a consort. I’ll take four.”

  The expression on his face was priceless. I choked back a laugh. “What? Is that too taboo for you?”

  “That seems…excessive. And complicated.”

  “I believe the saying is too many cooks in the kitchen,” Feoras said from the crowd.

  His father Uaine shook his head. “No, boy, the queen is correct. When you have a feast, too few hands are the difference between empty bellies and full.”

  This guy really liked his food metaphors.

  Verlin, the earth king, stepped forward. “So how are you going to choose these consorts?”

  Well, wasn’t that the question?

  “Stay tuned, and I’ll get back to you on that.”

  From the expression on his face, and most of the other faces in the crowd, they had no idea what I was talking about.

  “Uh, you’re all dismissed. Sh
oo,” I said, and then turned to Eoin, not paying attention to if they actually left or not. My bravado and everything else that was holding me together at the moment was fading fast.

  “How did I do?” I asked.

  He sighed. “Honestly? Better than I expected. At the very least, you can sleep alone tonight.”

  It was a testament to my numbness that his words didn’t bother me.

  But I would remember them.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Aidan was waiting for me in my room. Exhaustion, both physical and mental, cloaked my every move. All I wanted was to collapse in bed and not wake for twenty-four hours.

  But one look at my best friend told me I wouldn’t be sleeping anytime soon.

  His head was bowed. He hadn’t looked up when I’d entered the room. His hands were folded in his lap, and his shoulders were slumped.

  He looked like a kicked puppy. I had a soft spot for abused animals. I sat next to him wordlessly and waited for him to speak or look up at me. With wounded animals you never made the first move.

  He sighed and fell back into the mattress. It squeaked in protest. Using his elbows, he slithered up the bed until his head hit the pillows. He kept his hands folded on his stomach and his gaze rooted on the ceiling.

  In the past when it had been me with the bruises, we’d lay in his bed, my head in his lap as he stroked my hair. I’d cry myself to numbness, him silent and solid.

  He knew what I needed even when I didn’t. And tonight I knew what he did, too.

  I crawled up the bed and pressed my back against the headboard. He shifted, putting his head in my lap. I ran my fingers through his thick, blond hair. I hummed. Nothing in particular, but the silence had become unbearable and my thoughts were like a thick soup in my head.

  I had questions. Accusations, even. He’d kept more things from me. Would I ever uncover all his secrets?

  I doubted it. I continued to stroke his head.

  He didn’t move or cry or speak. After I didn’t know how long, he shifted again, twisting at the waist to look up at me. His blue eyes were haunted and unfamiliar, like they belonged to a stranger.

  He moved upward until his forehead pressed against mine. His ragged breaths heated my nose. We were close enough that if either of us moved an inch forward, our lips would touch.