by K. N. Banet
“And sons are supposed to do as their father asks of them. It seems we’ve both failed in that esteem,” Brion finally snapped back, closing the distance between them. They were chest to chest, and I couldn’t see either of their faces anymore. “When I stepped away, you refused to take up the responsibilities of your birth and abdicated the throne before you even sat your ass in it.”
“If you had told me why, I would have gladly become regent, so you could once again have a life of your own!” Cassius fumed. “But you had a secret wife, fathered three sons, and never bothered to tell me. You knew I never wanted the throne. You stepped away, making me think it was a life sentence to a position I never wanted. You could have been dead for all I knew. I wasn’t in any place to take on that position, not that you cared. You just expected me to fall in line because you never bothered to know me. It’s a recurring theme. You don’t bother yourself to know Rian, either.”
“Don’t you dare—”
“I’ve had the pleasure of getting to know him for the last day. You couldn’t even bother to do what was right and teach him how to do his own glamour. And you call me the failure—”
Brion’s hand cracked across Cassius’ cheek. Cassius didn’t move, and it didn’t whip his head to the side. He stood stoically, but I couldn’t see his face. I could see Brion’s, though. Brion seemed shocked, looking at his hand in horror before taking a staggering step back. Rian stood with his mother and two brothers as everyone’s jaw metaphorically hit the floor. Heath reached out slowly and grabbed my elbow with shaking hands. Heath never laid hands on his children. I knew he was against it. He would rage and get angry on the rarest occasion, but he never touched them.
Magic tore through the room and slammed into Brion, sending him crashing into my wall, knocking down neon signs and framed pictures.
“If you ever touch my husband again, I will destroy you,” Sorcha said as she stormed into the room, a sword in her right hand and her left hand out as if she was wielding invisible power.
Brion pushed himself off the floor, looking at her warily. “Sorcha…”
She came to a stop in the center of the room. She was radiant. I could feel her magic pouring off her, like moonlight on the darkest night. Part of it burned my skin and lungs as if she imbued the air with silver, not enough to worry me, and I saw no damage on my skin when I checked, but I could feel it.
“Apologize,” she demanded.
Brion closed his eyes and bowed his head. “Forgive me, Lady Sorcha, for laying my hand—”
“To your son!” she roared, making furniture shake and rattle. Fear raced through me as I reached to grab one of the tables to keep on my feet. Fiona stumbled, and one of her sons grabbed her, keeping her upright. Only Cassius weathered the storm of his wife’s fury, pretending as if nothing was happening.
Or her magic isn’t touching him. She loves him, but can her fury really be that controlled?
Brion flinched, but his eyes opened, and he turned to Cassius, something hollow in his gaze.
“I lost my temper. I know I have made mistakes over these past decades. I know you would have been a good brother to these boys. I know I robbed you of the chance to have a life with me and with them. But…” Brion sighed. “Looking at you reminded me too much of your mother, and I wanted to forget. I wanted to forget about my failure with her, about my failures with your older brothers and their deaths. My failures as king. I wanted a…different life, even if only for a short time. I am back now, ready to take my place again and repair that damage I have inadvertently done. I didn’t need you rubbing salt in the wound, and I lost my temper. I shouldn’t have because you are only saying what you have the right to say.” He took a deep breath. “And so, I am sorry.”
“In the years I have been your son, we’ve had many disagreements, but that’s the first time you ever laid a hand on me,” Cassius said softly. “It is unforgivable. Mother would have banished you for it. Only Oberon knows what he would do if he were here right now.”
“I understand—”
“But I’ll forgive it once,” he continued, cutting off his father. “If you allow Sorcha to remove…the changes you’ve made to yourself.”
“You think he’s not himself?” Sorcha snapped, going to her husband. “You really think so? Because I think he’s—”
“Love, please,” Cassius whispered. “We have more pressing matters to deal with.”
Sorcha sighed and nodded.
I swallowed hard, wondering how I would react in that position. If someone, even his own family, had slapped Heath like that, I would lose my mind and would want blood.
“Only for you,” she whispered. “Only this once. My promise stands. If he does it again, I’ll end him.”
“I know,” he murmured, reaching up to touch her cheek. “And I love you for it.”
“You can’t take away Brin!” Fiona suddenly said, jumping in as Sorcha walked toward the king, who was still leaning on the wall he had been thrown into.
“Love of mine, the promise I made you is fulfilling itself,” Brion said softly. He seemed tired. “Sorcha will only take it to its completion and remove that identity from me fully. It has been what I’ve been working for these last few months. I can’t rule and be that man anymore. And I must rule.”
“You know what I intend to do?” Sorcha asked as she reached him, completely ignoring his human wife with casual disrespect. Fiona didn’t rank high enough for Sorcha to acknowledge now, and Fiona realized it.
This is the most dysfunctional family I have ever seen. I thought Hasan and my siblings carried that title, but nope, the fae royalty clearly win the title.
“I knew Jacky would have learned from Fiona and Rian. She’s a smart one and would have asked the right questions, trying to keep her own interests safe. She would have told you and Cassius,” Brion said. He turned the piercing gaze on his human wife and the sons he shared with her. “Just like I knew Rian would try to run for me the moment there was trouble, which there was bound to be, but if I took my sons and me to a place Rian’s magic couldn’t touch, it would potentially lead him to Cassius. I…” Brion turned back to Sorcha. “I heard the news of your marriage to my son. I didn’t know if it was political in nature or a long game you were playing. I was worried you turned Cassius against me, maybe as punishment for me forcing you to step away from the life you had.”
“You think too highly of yourself,” she snapped. “You think you’re the center of the universe when you couldn’t be more wrong.” She waited until he was on his feet and away from the wall before she continued. “I love your son more than power and money. I love your son more than I love the sun and the moon and my creators. I love your son more than all things. Remember that the next time you think you have the right to chastise him. You lost that right when you walked away. He’s mine now, and I don’t allow people to hurt what’s mine.”
“Of course,” Brion agreed, bowing his head.
There was so much to unpack here. I was watching the original and supposedly most powerful sidhe get thrown around by a criminal he’d brought into line. He was treating her as if she ranked higher than him on a scale I didn’t know. She was talking as if she had more power and privileges than he could dream.
And how can she meddle in the magic he did on himself when his son can’t?
I had too many questions, not many answers, and no way to get them. Not yet, anyway.
Sorcha reached out and sighed. Her eyes closed as she nodded about something.
“Yes, I see,” she murmured. “It’s right…there. It’s still holding back some of your power. Troubling…”
As when Cassius had broken Rian’s glamour, there was a snap in the air like the crack of a whip. It was a release in tension I hadn’t realized existed, then it was gone, leaving everyone in the room breathing easier.
“Gone,” Sorcha said, removing her hands. “You did a nasty thing to yourself.”
“I did,” the king agreed. He rubbed his temp
les, his face pained as if he was suffering from a migraine.
“I don’t think you understand. Another couple of decades, and you would have completely lost your identity and your magic,” Sorcha continued. “Fool. It would have taken more than me or the death of your wife to fix you after that. There’s a reason identity magics are so dangerous. They subversively consume and overwhelm you until the real identity feels like the fake one. Then one day, it’s gone completely.”
“You would know, wouldn’t you?” Brion asked, but it didn’t sound like a question, more a taunt or even condemnation.
“It’s different when someone does them on you versus doing them on yourself. At least with the former, the magic feels invasive enough to fight for a time,” she replied as if she was reminding him of something. “Now, we can get on to the more pressing matters my husband feels outweigh what you did to him.” She turned on her heel and marched back to Cassius’ side.
“Yes, of course,” Brion agreed. “I returned here to check in with Fiona and Rian. No one was here yesterday when I came back.”
“Did you see what they did to my house?” I asked, crossing my arms. “They were looking to take your wife from me. Rian helped us escape.”
“I did,” Brion said, nodding as he grabbed a chair from the wall and sat down. Fiona walked to him and wrapped her arms around his shoulders from behind. He reached out and patted one of her hands. Before he spoke again, he grabbed it and kissed it softly. “Good job, Rian, getting your mother out of a dangerous situation.”
“Jacky bought us the time,” Rian said, looking at me before he looked at his father. “Cassius helped me make a portal back.”
“I see. Where were you, my son?”
“On my land in the Eastern Summer Fields,” he answered. “Which Sorcha and I have locked the doors to as tightly as we can. Only those who can make direct doors can get in or out. It made Rian’s arrival very interesting.”
“When did you lock the doors?” Brion asked, frowning at his son.
Doors? I turned to Heath, and he shrugged, telling me he didn’t have answers for whatever questions he was reading in my eyes. He was just as confused as I was.
“After Alvina came to me and said she believed she could bring you back. I told her I wanted nothing to do with it, and the moment she left my portion of the realm, Sorcha and I locked the doors. It hasn’t completely stopped visitors, but it’s done enough to deter many.” Cassius shook his head. “None of this matters. We need to talk about what you have to do about Oisin.”
“Well, considering I’ve been running from his assassins for some months now, I believe I need to kill him,” Brion said simply. “I need Alvina to stand as the arbitrator of the affair, but a duel would be proper.”
“At least he’s thinking clearly,” Sorcha mumbled.
“Since it is also for a Tribunal seat, you all do realize we’re going to have to collect the entire Tribunal for it,” Brion continued, ignoring Sorcha’s words. “They’ll need to be present to know the seat has been exchanged properly.”
Cassius looked back at me, then at Brion. “You’re mad. Hasan will be there, and so will Jacqueline. You’ll be forcing him to take sides—”
Damn it. “I’ll keep Fiona here—”
“No, you’ll be protecting my wife at my side,” Brion said with a smile. Fiona’s arms tightened on him. “She’ll be required to attend as my wife, so will my sons. These things have protocol.”
Cassius threw his hands up in the air. “You’ve done this on purpose. I know you have.”
“I did,” Brion confirmed. “When I discovered who Jacky was, I knew I could use her to swing things in my favor. If Oisin tries anything underhanded, and he most likely will, Jacky will defend Fiona. Hasan will defend his daughter. Fiona will be safe.”
“You’ll rip the Tribunal apart,” I snapped. “Callahan will fight with Oisin just because it’s the opposite side of my father.”
“Oisin hates werewolves,” Brion retorted. “He’s probably made that very clear to Callahan and Corissa at this point. They wouldn’t fight with him. Even if Callahan thinks it’s a chance to kill your father, Corissa is the smarter of the two.”
“She’ll keep Callahan out of the fight. If Hasan gets himself killed, other werecats will try to fill the space.” Cassius found a seat, groaning. “There’s no reason for the werewolves to make a play unless they’re looking for a fight.”
“My brother would take the Tribunal seat,” I growled. “Even without Hasan, my family is strong enough to remain in power.” I firmly believed it, but saying it? Bitterness flooded my mouth, and my nose was flooded with the scent of my own fear and dismay.
“Exactly. So, what are you worried about?” Brion asked, lifting his hands in question.
I growled at him, the only response I could think of. I was being moved around and played with, and I hated it. Something was off about this entire situation.
“I’ve been a werewolf for over two hundred and fifty years. Hasan was your friend and closest ally,” Heath said, taking my place. “And you would be willing to throw his life away?”
Brion glared at my werewolf. Heath had been patiently silent for the exchange, and part of me wished he’d remained that way. It would have kept Brion’s focus off him, while another part of me was grateful he could say the words trapped on my tongue.
“Hasan won’t die,” Brion snapped in clear frustration with both of us. “He’s too old and too stubborn. He’s meant to fight other wars, as he so often told me. This won’t kill him. He’ll forgive me in a century, just as I’ve had to forgive him for a few of his schemes.” Brion stood and glared at us. “We should move on. The Tribunal will be called. They will attend the duel Oisin and I shall have. Now that Cassius is here and Sorcha has freed the last of my magic, we can get on with it. Cassius, call Alvina. Tell her I am willing to meet Oisin in the King’s Courtyard for a duel.”
Then he turned slowly to me.
“You will not call your family. Alvina will let the rest of the Tribunal know what is happening,” he said, staring me down.
28
Chapter Twenty-Eight
“Now, while I wait for my son to get hold of his aunt, I will head back to your home and get it repaired.” Brion turned, walking to the back of the bar. “It’s a simple thing to do—”
“No,” I said stiffly. “I don’t want your magic anywhere near my home.”
Brion stopped and looked over his shoulder, a kingly eyebrow arched in question.
“I’m not one of your subjects,” I snapped. “You won’t do an ounce of magic on any of my properties. I want nothing left here to remind me of you.”
“A bit difficult, considering my magic will always be part of you,” Brion retorted. “I can’t remove it now without killing you. It’s part of you and your c…disposition.”
“And it’s going to remain that way,” I said softly. “Because the fae who gave me that magic was a decent man. You haven’t proven to be one.”
“You haven’t seen me in the best light, that’s certain,” Brion agreed. “Maybe in a few centuries, I’ll have the chance to change your tune.”
“Probably not,” I said softly.
“Maybe you should look more closely at your father then. If you think I’m ruthless, imagine what it must take for a man to create an army out of his own children,” Brion whispered with a smile. “He’s ready to send you to die the moment it’s necessary. Have you ever considered that?”
It was a slap in the face, too close to a conversation I once had with my werecat father. I curled my hands into fists but didn’t move as everyone turned toward me.
“Don’t pretend you know anything about my family,” I finally managed to hiss across the room.
“I don’t pretend to know anything,” he said softly. “You do.”
With a snarl, I took a step forward, only to be grabbed by Heath.
“Why don’t you and I go cool down upstairs and let the fae deal
with their own problems for a moment?” he suggested quickly, putting himself between us. By the look on his face, he was afraid, not an obvious fear, but I saw it in his eyes. “Come on. We’ll have a drink and let them deal with the politics of this mess. We’re just needed to protect Fiona. If there’s trouble, look at all the powerful fae here who can handle it. Come on.”
I nodded, but before I started walking, I looked for Sorcha, standing silently at her husband’s side. She eyed the room, then started walking for the back, stopping to spit at Brion’s feet in the most dignified way I had ever seen. Brion gave no reaction, surprisingly enough, but then, I couldn’t forget the power play between them. I followed her out, Heath staying at my side, his hand holding mine.
I met her upstairs and pointed to my office. I let her in first, then Heath before locking everyone inside.
“What do you need?” she asked, looking around my office.
“How do you follow him?” I demanded, pointing at the door in fury. “Why would anyone want him as their king?”
“Because the alternative is worse. He’s a good king to the masses. He treats the people of the fae realm equally, giving everyone their say. He’s one of the few sidhe who looks at all the fae as his people. There’s a problem among our people. We can be, for lack of a better term, racist. Many sidhe think the goblins, trolls, and pixies are less than. The redcaps and the ogres are uncontrollable murder machines. The banshees, sidhe but…changed, tainted by the death they’ve surrounded themselves with. They’re an offshoot many sidhe would like to forget exists. He’s not like that.”
“So, you would follow him, even after his display with Cassius.” I needed to know what I was fighting for because I had no idea if I could trust myself anymore. How was I supposed to stand with Brion to protect his wife when I thought the man was awful?
“Brion is not the best man, no,” she agreed. “But he is not Oisin. Oisin…” Sorcha sighed. “You’re not fae, and I understand it’s hard for you to have a personal stake in this fight. Here’s the clearest difference between them. If Cassius committed a terrible crime tomorrow—let’s say murder a goblin for some small offense—Brion would have him arrested. Brion would recuse himself and let the rest of the nobility judge and sentence his son. There’s a number of ways that could play out, but Cassius would face the punishment due to him. His status wouldn’t save him, and the nobility would listen to the goblins of their lands because Brion would require it of them. Oisin, if his son was caught doing the same thing, he would hide his son and allow the behavior to continue because he feels the privilege of birth is enough to excuse the consequences of the action. Goblins would then revolt against a king who doesn’t protect him.”