by SM Reine
Rage looked a thousand years old in the dim light. “Not today.”
“Later?”
“Maybe. But not now.” The former king clutched his chest as though his broken heart ached. Whatever he felt in the wake of Violet’s loss dwarfed the wounds he’d sustained from Arawn’s torture. “You’ve got to make it all up to Marion, kid. Neither of you will live forever.”
Konig haunted Marion no matter where she went in Myrkheimr. From the throne room to the privacy of her bedroom, which she still maintained separately from her husband, his personality radiated from everything—the good parts as well as the bad.
Vines that had once been bare were dripping in lavender. That was good, just like the times that Konig kissed Marion’s knuckles and admired her beauty.
The way that all the elegant, twisted wooden railings had become sharp-edged iron—that was bad, like his temper after he’d been drinking too much. The lightning was bad too. Marion hadn’t seen lightning at Myrkheimr before.
Marion shouldn’t have been surprised to find that her bedroom’s walk-in closet had become smaller, but she was. It served as an unpleasant reminder that Marion’s comfort was not Konig’s priority.
The closet had shrunk, and there was no way of knowing what had become of the dresses that had vanished accordingly. The laws of physics stated that matter couldn’t be created or destroyed, so the blades that were growing out of the forest must have come from somewhere. Maybe Marion’s favorite boots had been converted to steel sharp enough to slice the wind itself in half. A fitting but tragic end to Marion’s wardrobe.
“Find something for me to wear,” Marion said, backing away so that Tove could move in.
The handmaiden set down a glass pipe, blowing puffs of glittering golden smoke into the air. “Happy to oblige.”
It only took Tove a few seconds to return with something. The dress was made of filmy panels belted together with delicate gold chains. They’d provide warm contrast to her cool eyes—or a nice accent for Konig’s copper skin.
He wouldn’t be able to resist touching it, especially since it swooped so low. He’d want to slide his hand along the curve of her lower back, fingers resting on the uppermost swell of her backside.
Konig would see that dress as an invitation.
“He’ll want it so bad he’ll gag,” Tove said with lidded eyes and a sultry smile.
Had Konig gagged over how sexy Tove was, back in the days they’d been hooking up?
Gods, Marion couldn’t even relax around the handmaidens now. They made her feel the hot burn of shame and jealousy by merely existing. “The dress is perfect,” Marion said. She changed from the constricting, elaborate gown into the gauzy dress with minimal help.
Wintersong knocked and stepped inside without waiting. He probably saw more of Marion’s naked body than she liked, but the sidhe were unperturbed by nudity.
“What do you think?” she asked, cinching the belt around her waist.
“It’s fucking hot, Your Highness,” Wintersong said. “It does crazy things with your titties.”
Tove burst into shocked laughter. “Wintersong! She’s the queen! Queens don’t have titties!”
“Thank you, Wintersong,” Marion said. He wasn’t trying to be crude. He wasn’t even hitting on her. Sidhe were profuse and specific in their compliments, similar to the way that they were free with their bodies in pleasure.
He was showing respect in his way.
One person respected Marion. He wasn’t a king, but he existed.
“Take me to dinner,” Marion said.
She was followed by nearly a dozen people as soon as she left her room. Handmaidens and knights and advisors—Marion had an entourage of joyful song and pipe smoke. The illusion was enough to shield her from protesters still standing in stubborn silence on the lawn.
As long as Marion didn’t look, she didn’t have to see them.
The path that Wintersong took her on didn’t lead to the outdoor dining hall where most dinners were held. They went up winding stairs, across walkways, underneath boughs of cold yellow flowers. Thunder rumbled louder and louder as they crossed between wings.
“Where is dinner tonight?” Marion asked.
Maddisyn answered. “The king’s rooms.”
“You mean Rage’s?”
“The king’s.” Aoife’s upper lip twitched, wriggling like a worm. “The presiding king.”
Konig had left the bedroom he’d used to hold—the one beside Marion’s room—and moved into his father’s chambers.
“Why?” Marion asked.
“Dinner’s private tonight,” she said.
That was why Tove had picked a dress so sexy. She’d known, as they all had, that Marion would be alone with Konig. And everybody close to them wanted the royal marriage to succeed.
The Raven Knights stopped on either side of the doors to the king’s chambers, but didn’t go inside. Nor did the handmaidens.
Marion gazed up at the two-story double doors. She remembered a different engraving on them. Hadn’t the king’s door once depicted a relief of a blank-eyed wolf and a tower surrounded by falling bodies?
Now there was a lone man on the bas-relief, his face bisected by the doors as he walked on a road of blades. He was crowned by thorns. He held a broadsword in one hand and a flaming scimitar in the other. The forest burned on one side of him. The other side had a cliff overlooking a stylized ocean.
Konig’s magic was honest in its depiction of him, as always. He was as beautiful as he was horrible.
When Marion’s fingertips connected with the wood, magic greeted her warmly. It recognized that she was queen, even if it didn’t bend to her.
Konig waited in the antechamber. He wore a long, slim-fitting coat and soft leather boots, with his violet hair loose around his shoulders. He was more approachable than the severe figure on his doors, but only barely. “I’m glad you decided to join me tonight.”
She took his outstretched hand. “I didn’t expect to have dinner here.”
“There are things we can’t discuss in front of the family.”
The dim light traced Konig’s features in vivid orange. The crystalline facets of his skin fragmented, dancing under shadow, as he lifted a wine glass to his lips. He never stopped watching Marion while she inspected the room.
Though she’d remembered a different door, she didn’t remember having been in Rage and Violet’s chambers before. Marion had no idea which pieces of furniture had been birthed from Konig assuming leadership, and which were marks of his father. But she could guess. Soft wood and sunset-orange blossoms originated from the parents; the harsh blades reflected the grief of their son.
“It’s strange to see you in this place,” Marion said. “It looks so adult.” Neither of them were legally capable of drinking in the United States, yet they had two castles between them.
“Dad didn’t want to be somewhere that reminded him so much of his mate,” Konig said. “I did him a favor by taking his place. These are our rightful rooms in any case.”
Our rightful rooms.
Quite the swing from Konig drawing battle lines over Marion’s insistence that the Winter Court was hers.
A small table had been set for them along the windows, which arched high toward the vaulted ceilings. It was obvious which chair each of them was meant to sit in. Konig’s seat was topped with blades much like the ones ringing his crown, whereas Marion’s was a plain white wood that looked culled from the Winter Court.
He pulled the chair out for her. She sat. A waiter appeared to put the napkin in her lap.
“You’ll be happy to know that most of the urisk are dead.” Konig waved a hand, and a curtain fell from a mirror hanging on the wall.
Like some kind of magical PowerPoint presentation, the looking glass displayed a series of images. Marion only needed to see a couple to understand what had happened. The army had invaded an urisk den in the Wilds.
Their den was in a part of the forest dark enough to t
int the blood ruby-black. Even though she’d only encountered the urisk during their attempts to kill her, it was horrifying to see their furred bodies shredded by magic.
“I thought the Autumn Court’s army was on strike,” Marion said.
“They’re still talking about it. My dad convinced them to play nice for the day.” Konig pointed at one image that flipped past. “That’s darling Nikki.” An ash-white soldier stood in the corner, uniformly colorless from her Bantu knots to her lips. “Her gift is being able to make sidhe magic function at optimal levels regardless of plane.”
It looked like Nikki had done most of the killing. The rest of the army had moved in to the shady den with her, but they’d stood by while Nikki vivisected the urisk with a dagger of blazing faerie magic.
On the last slide, it was clear there were no survivors among the urisk. Nikki stood with her back to the den with her arms folded and face impassive.
“They won’t try to hurt you again,” Konig said. “Are you happy?”
Happy? That was the last thing that Marion felt.
She licked her lips and said, “Thank you.”
“We have a lot of other stuff to talk about.” Konig put his hand on the table between them, close enough to touch her.
Marion withdrew, adjusting her napkin as an excuse. “Yes, I think we do. I’d like to put all my cards on the table.”
“Oh, you do? Marion Garin wants to put her cards on the table? This should be good. I’d love to see what it looks like when you’re pretending to be honest.”
She prickled at his tone. “I’m miserable. I think about leaving every single day. Every moment.”
Konig hadn’t expected real honesty. Marion watched the emotions journeying over his face, from hurt to outrage to indignation. “Why don’t you?”
“Everything will collapse if I do.”
“You’ve never cared about the sidhe before.”
“That’s simply not true,” Marion said. “I wouldn’t have married you in the first place if I didn’t care about the unseelie.”
“You care about power,” Konig said.
She slipped her salad fork under the tablecloth. When she pressed the pad of her thumb against the tines, the pain made it easier to think through her foggy brain. “We both care about power. What does that matter? If we can’t find a way to make this work, the unseelie courts will collapse.”
“I just don’t see why you’re pretending to care. You don’t like any of us. I had to give you friends.”
“Friends? You mean your spies?”
“Bodyguards and confidantes.”
“Women you’ve fucked,” Marion said.
He shrugged. “I was sixteen.”
She pressed her thumb against the fork harder. Marion supposed she was meant to take it as a good thing that he hadn’t cheated on her with those women, like he had with Nori. “You must think I’m a monster if I’d rather walk away than let the courts burn.”
“Don’t forget that I know you better than you do,” Konig said. “You would do exactly that on a whim.”
And she almost had. She had been close to diving down Ymir’s secret passage and running from it all.
It was hard to feign indignation when she’d nearly done what he accused her of, but feign it she did. “There’s my honesty for you, Konig. I don’t want to be here but I am. We need to put our minds together to find a way to make our marriage work or neither of us will rule.”
“I agree,” Konig said. “What happened in Niflheimr with the urisk—I’m sorry for that. You’ve been so distant and then we finally start talking and you were cruel.”
“You cheated with my cousin and lied to coerce me into marriage.”
“But I got rid of the urisk for you anyway,” Konig said. “That’s one hell of a nice gesture from me, don’t you think? It’s nicer than I have to be to someone who was cheating on me.”
Marion flinched. “What?”
“Do you know what Seth said when he came to the vote? He told me I wasn’t allowed to touch you anymore—my wife, my woman.”
Seth and Marion hadn’t had sex, not once. The one kiss they’d exchanged had been a total accident. They didn’t have feelings for each other like…that.
Not mutual ones.
Her diadem hadn’t glowed for Konig. It glowed when she’d remembered Seth.
“I wasn’t cheating on you with him,” Marion said.
“Really, princess? We don’t have regular access to Nikki’s power because everyone’s so convinced you’re a carpet-bagger fucking the boss.” He pointed at the looking glass again and Nikki’s colorless face.
Marion had been trying to keep her calm, but there was no stopping the bite to her tone. “Really, Konig. Everyone is wrong.”
“Then why’d Seth stake his claim over you?”
Because he’d been trying to protect her from the likes of Konig. Seth was a hero who always knew the right thing to do and had no problems following through with it. “Seth isn’t here. I don’t want to talk about that day.”
“Our wedding day?”
“What happened right before—the meeting, and the conversation you and I shared.” She swallowed, trying to bring saliva to her dry mouth. “The wedding itself was a moment of triumph.”
She rested her hand on the table again. The tines of the fork had left four dents on her skin.
Konig rubbed her wrist gently, and it felt so strange, like being touched by a tangible fog. “It was a triumph. The first of a lot of victories we need to secure. The army will be on strike as of midnight.”
Weakness flooded Marion. “But they fought the urisk.”
“Only because my dad asked.”
“Then he should keep asking!”
“It’s not his problem—it’s mine,” Konig said. “Our problem. Our only solution is to do what’s right and clean house.”
Her head got foggy again when she tried to think about it. What was right, according to Konig and Ariane alike, was to have a functioning sidhe marriage…in every sense.
He went on when Marion didn’t speak. “Our time’s limited. Arawn is moving.”
“I know,” Marion said. She’d gotten the same messages about activity in Sheol from Aoife.
“I’ve arranged a meeting with the Summer Court to get interim support from their army. They’re the only ones left who can secure our borders.”
“Oberon will never give us military support.” The Summer and Autumn Courts had been enemies for a decade. Even if they weren’t actively fighting, there was too much bad blood to cooperate.
“The seelie queen changed my diapers,” Konig said. “She’ll give us anything if we’re careful about asking. That’s why I’ve arranged a state dinner in a few weeks’ time.”
A state dinner meant that Marion would have to appear to others as Konig’s queen again. The people would want to see her intimate with her husband. They would want to see the diadem glow.
Marion touched her forehead self-consciously, even though it was bare at the moment. “Oberon and Titania already agreed to come?”
He continued stroking her hand. “They picked the date.”
“Are you sure that they don’t have issue with you?”
Konig tilted his head, puzzled. “Why?”
“They’re making us wait to meet for weeks when we’re still reeling from a crisis. They could provide swift assistance, but they’re not. They want us squirming. They want us weak.”
He chuckled softly. “Oh, Marion… If they hope to catch you when you’re weak, they’re in for an unpleasant surprise.” His smile turned to a slash of ice. “They’ll have heard about the diadem too.”
Marion opened her mouth, but he shook his head, discouraging her from speaking.
“I don’t need you to lie. I know why the diadem didn’t glow, and it’s on me to change the way you feel,” Konig said. “I will convince you, as long as you cooperate with me.”
She sipped her wine. “I’m amicable.”
It was a blow that struck her like Leliel’s knife to the gut. “Benjamin who?”
“You tell me,” Konig said. “You asked one of my knights to look into members of the court named Benjamin.”
“Wintersong told you.” Marion felt betrayed, and then she felt stupid for being surprised. She’d been foolish to hope one sidhe respected her. But he’d reported to the king. He was the same as the rest of them.
Konig was starting to smile faintly. “Did you think you’d turned one of the knights a traitor against me?”
“Don’t be silly,” Marion said.
“What’d you do? Seduce him into becoming your spy?”
After Konig’s earlier accusation about Seth, being accused of having sex with a Raven Knight failed to make an impact.
“Married couples don’t need to spy on one another. Also, Wintersong is probably a thousand years old.” He looked at least sixty of those years. Sidhe wore it well, but age was age. “Regardless, he isn’t nearly attractive enough for the trouble seducing him would create.”
That gave Konig a flicker of a real smile. He went cold and empty-eyed again before Marion had time to smile back. “This Benjamin thing has nothing to do with plans against me?”
She rolled her eyes. “Don’t flatter yourself.”
“Marion,” Konig said, sliding his chair closer by inches. His thumb was rubbing again. “You sound like yourself again.”
That praise was more painful than any of the insults he flung in her face.
She needed a lie that Konig would be willing to believe. If she told him that she wanted to find Benjamin so that she could find Seth, then there would be no marriage to salvage.
“My memories are somehow returning,” she said carefully. “I don’t know who I am, and I don’t know what I’m thinking. It feels like I must find Benjamin, even though I’m not certain why.” Marion injected restrained vulnerability into her voice.
She knew she’d done well when he breathed, “Princess…” Konig’s hand covered hers totally. “You don’t need to know who you are, because you have me. You only need to trust me. That’s all you’ve needed to do this entire time.”