by AJ Nuest
“Our guests are taking their seats.” He jerked his head toward the room, turned and disappeared inside.
“Come on.” Rhys squeezed her tight before releasing her and, withdrawing a pace, slid both hands down her arms until their fingers were linked. “Let’s get you something to eat, and then we’re all having a nice long talk about how to guarantee you a solid night’s sleep.”
The mellow aroma of melted candle wax drifted over her as she entered the hall at Rhys’ side. A pleasing compliment to the scents of crisply browned bread and rosemary-seasoned quail displayed upon the servants’ silver platters. Yet Faedrah swallowed hard at the trials to come, her stomach rebelling at the thought of consuming food. Her appetite had left her long ago and, if offered the choice, she would’ve happily wrestled two of the high-backed chairs aside, crawled beneath the table and curled into a ball at Rhys’ feet.
His hand on her back, he escorted her to her seat on the queen’s right, nodded a greeting to her parents and scooted her chair toward the table as she sat. Silver bowls overflowing with periwinkle asters had been stationed at intervals along the elaborately appointed length. Water beaded upon flagons of etched crystal filled with the rich crimson of mulled wine. The place settings were porcelain china stamped with the royal blue insignia of the Austiere crest. Still and thus, the candlelight reflecting off the silver goblets, the cutlery and jewels adorning the guests, made her wince as the beginnings of a dull headache furrowed up the back of her neck.
Though slated, in part, to celebrate her homecoming, this evening was bound to challenge the limits of her over-taxed endurance.
Rhys tugged the chair beside hers from the table, but stalled as Vaighn deftly slipped in to occupy the seat. “Whoa, hold up. I’m sitting by—”
Fandorn loudly cleared his throat. He opened a hand toward the chair on his left, down the table past where Denmar sat beside her father, and Rhys sighed before stomping off to join the elder wizard.
Based on the enthusiasm those around her had for the meal, the food was undeniably delicious, though each bite Faedrah set upon her tongue contained the flavor of dry sand. The wine soothed the pounding in her temples, yet she daren’t drink too much for fear she would succumb to inebriation and descend into the vortex of Gaelleod’s maddening pursuit.
Nonetheless, above all, the one thing which grounded her in the present and bolstered her against collapsing into fits of despair, was the way Rhys kept watch over her from his seat on the far side of the king. Every morsel she lifted to her lips, if engaged in conversation or resting a moment to gather her wits, his steady gaze was there—heating her skin, calming her heart, soothing her fears.
ʼTwas an unfortunate twist of fate her attendance did not convey to him the same level of ease, and yet she could no more deny her horrid condition than she could force herself to eat.
Each time their gazes locked, she read his mounting irritation over the unending courses presented during the meal. If slightly distracted, her focus circled back to his at the heave of his impatient sigh, the way he consistently shifted as if a burr had found its way into his boot or the dark scowls he aimed at the guests seated nearest his plate.
The way tension all but crackled off his skin, ʼtwas of no surprise to her his was the first voice to cut through the frivolous chatter of the council members and their wives upon the servants’ removal of the dessert plates.
“Okay, dinner’s over.” He swiped his linen napkin over his generous mouth and tossed it upon the table. “Now, are we ever going to talk about why we’re really here?”
Vaighn choked on his wine, coughing into his fist. Jaws gaped in unison around the table and Faedrah lowered her chin to hide a smile. Though, apparently, she was alone in her lack of disbelief.
Her father held up his hand to still the uncomfortable shuffling of the guests. “Curtail your charge, Fandorn, or I shall order him removed from these proceedings.”
“Apologies, Sire.” Fandorn respectfully tipped his head. “Despite my most ardent efforts, the boy remains impetuous to a fault.”
Impetuous? Faedrah curled an index finger over her lips to staunch a chuckle. The man was a white-hot spark sizzling down a wick toward an immeasurable detonation.
“Really?” Rhys planted his elbow on the table and leaned forward to peer at the king. “We’re gonna sit here and dissect my personality when your daughter hasn’t slept in three days?”
The women flinched as her father pounded a hard fist on the table, rattling the silver. “I am fully aware of the suffering Faedrah has endured since her return to this realm. Two nights, her mother and I have watched helpless while she paces the floor until the soles of her feet all but blister. Only to then succumb to exhaustion so that she can thrash unresting upon her bed.”
Faedrah dropped her forehead into her hand at her father’s ill-timed admittance. Though true, Rhys would find no reassurance in such words. Indeed, news as this would merely add fuel to the blistering heat of his aggravation.
“And lest we forget.” The king aimed a rigid finger at her beloved. “ʼTis by your father’s hand she is made to bear this arduous plight.”
She closed her eyes, heart sinking like a stone tossed into the pit of her empty stomach. The ripples reverberated outward, and she braced as the first needles of anger prickled up her spine. ʼTwould seem no matter how hard she argued his innocence, Rhys would forever be made to bear the insurrection of his father’s evil deeds.
“Well, then, let’s go get the bastard!” Rhys’ silver vambraces glinted in the soft light as he tossed his arms wide. “Right now. Tonight. We’ve waited too long as it is!”
A smile came unbidden to her lips over his valiant defense of her. Goddesses wept, the love she held for this man outnumbered Helios’ diamond offerings in the sky.
Denmar grunted his repugnance and she squinted at the captain of the royal guard. “One does not simply waltz into enemy territory without first determining the risks, lad.” He bobbed his head toward the king. “His majesty has many factors to consider, not the least of which is incurring the gamble of war.”
“Trade routes from the sea would all but cease.” Councilman D’Anthe straightened the ruffles of his lace-edged cuffs. “Not one of our allied merchants from the east would endanger their ships should Seviere choose to retaliate in exchange for our encroaching on his lands.”
Rhys crossed his arms. “Yeah, so?”
“Talk amongst the gentry is divided on the matter, Sire.” Vlandross straightened from where he’d leaned into his wife’s whisper, light winking off the single glass lens perched before his left eye. “While the woodworkers’ guild is in upheaval over the threat of economic collapse, rumblings from the commonwealth state the aid which the guild has already received from the crown offers them an unfair advantage. Especially in lieu of the high cost for lumber.”
Chair legs screeched across the floor as Rhys shoved to his feet, arms braced on the table and body tense. “Are you fucking kidding me? The woodworkers’ guild?”
He jerked upright, shoulders tight. Faedrah sprang forward in her seat as his face flooded a deep red and his hands fisted at his sides. “Shit.” He gritted his teeth. “I got it, Fandorn. Back off.”
She glanced between the wizard and Rhys, her weary mind finally interpreting the clues to how Fandorn had employed the use of his restrictive spell. “Release him, Fandorn.” Sweet tits, her beloved was the only one present to keep the conversation on point. Did they not see? His annoyance over Vlandross’ wily political crusade was a direct reflection of the deep concern he harbored for her. “In fact, I demand you remove the spell altogether. Rhys shall do us no harm.”
Her father pinned her with a scalding glare, yet Faedrah did not shrink or cower under his censure. Their true enemy was outside the castle walls, laying waste to the kingdom, and their energies would be much better served by standing united against the demon who rightfully deserved their retribution.
“Do as she asks, Fa
ndorn.” Her mother tapped a finger against her lips, elbow propped on the table. The king’s head spun toward his wife, and she shrugged. “I’d like to hear what Rhys has to say.”
Her father grumbled his discontent, yet he did not negate the queen’s command.
“As you wish.” The wizard nodded toward her parents and Rhys slumped, filling his lungs as he ran a hand along the nape of his neck.
“What you guys aren’t getting is that, any second now, there could be no commonwealth.” He flicked that same hand toward the table. “All this. Your servants, your castle and fancy clothes are all gonna disappear unless you save—this—woman.” He emphasized each word, pointing in her direction. “Faedrah is the only thing that matters. Don’t you get it? Gaelleod has somehow connected himself to her, and unless we figure out a way to break that tie, he’s gonna destroy her and everything you love right along with her.” He glanced around the table before meeting her gaze. “The only thing we should be discussing is who’s going after the bastard because, if we don’t, you can bet your white, powdered asses, he’s coming after her. And I don’t know about the rest of you, but I’m not about to let that happen.”
A long moment of silence descended as those present traded stares about the table.
“Perchance.” Vlandross removed the lens from before his eye, heated the glass with a puff of air and rubbed both sides with his linen napkin. “Or perchance, you merely aim to lead us into ruin so you may possess the key for yourself.”
What? Faedrah clamped down hard on the barbed retort perched upon her tongue. Her beloved stomped forward a step, his rage swooping in with such ferocity, a metallic taint literally coated the air.
“I cautioned you to proceed carefully, Councilman.” She narrowed her gaze at the pompous courtier. He could not have found a nerve more raw to pluck. “Such an accusation is a lie of the foulest contempt.”
Jaw tight, Rhys repeatedly clenched and released his hands. “Not to mention, you’ve got no right to accuse me of anything, least of all deceiving the woman I love.”
His jowls wobbled as Vlandross silently laughed. “You are the son of Gaelleod. Come, now.” He replaced his lens before his eye and opened his hands to encompass the guests at the table. “I think we can all agree your blackened heart holds no love for anyone but yourself.”
The silver wine goblets nearest Rhys crumpled, the sides folding in on themselves as if crushed by an unseen fist. The crowd gasped and several guests pressed their chairs back from the table.
“I could not more vehemently disagree, Sir Vlandross.” The queen lifted a withering brow. “Or does your lofty position in such matters also allow you to place judgment on the divine intervention of the nine?”
Faedrah squeezed her eyes tight, shaking her head against pounding in her temples. This in-fighting served no purpose. They must stand united in their cause. To do elsewise would surely condemn them to failure.
“You self-serving son of a bitch.” Rhys hunched, lowering his chin to peer at the councilman from under his brows. Ethereal light glowed from his hands. The silver cutlery upon the table shook and vibrated, emitting a high-pitched whine. “If you think for one second, I’m gonna stand here and let you shit all over everything I care about, you’d better think again.”
“Get yourself under control, laddie.” Denmar waved the guards forward from their spots before the door. “Or I shall have you escorted from this room in chains.”
Faedrah fisted her hands under the table. No! No! Such a threat was ludicrous beyond measure, and would accomplish nothing but to make Rhys even more irate.
He huffed. “I’d like to see you try.”
“Be careful, Wizard.” Vaighn stood. “You address the king’s right arm. Insubordination will not be tolerated.”
Goddesses wept, when would it end? She rubbed her fingers over the throbbing pressure in her brow. Seized the arm of her chair to steady her balance.
“Sit down and be quiet.” Her father snapped. “All of you. This is an open dialogue and Vlandross has every right to his opinion.”
Her mother crossed her arms, edging away from the king. “At the peril of blaspheming our goddesses?”
“We must address every angle before instigating a war.”
“Or what?” Rhys tossed his arms wide. “You may actually save your kingdom?”
“I told you to sit down!”
“Enough!” Faedrah sprang to her feet, snagging the attention of all those in the room. “If and what is to be done, will be decided upon by me.” She gripped the table edge to shore up the trembling in her legs, staring at the array of shocked faces, daring any of them to disagree. “This is my task, handed down from the goddesses and placed at my feet. Not one of you stands to lose all I risk in defense of our kingdom. There is not one soul in this room, save Rhys, who has yet to stand by my side and oppose the evil at our gates.”
She slammed both fists on the table, her frustration too much to bear. “You ask I forfeit my life to save all that you have and think not of insulting me in the process. You sit and place judgment on that which you do not understand, yet compel me to sacrifice what little happiness I have known. You prepare me to lead and then question every word that falls from my lips, naming me a child unfit to rule.
“So hear this.” She shoved up from the table, the force of her anger stoking a strength she had not known lay dormant within her. “I will not stand for dissension. Not when everything I love is to be weighed against the balance of your pride. You sit here and squabble like children and, in doing so, be sure to pick your side. Because I promise you this. I shall find this bastard, with or without you, and I shall rout him out to the very gates of hell. You have but to decide. You either stand and fight with me or I shall cut you down at my side.”
A grin the likes of which she had never before encountered split Rhys’ face nearly in two. He bobbed his chin in smug agreement and crossed his arms, peering at those present over the imperial slant of his nose.
No one else moved, and a breath lodged in Faedrah’s throat over the outcome of her furious tirade, every set of eyes staring at her as if she’d suddenly sprouted a third eye.
She slowly exhaled as Vaighn bowed his head, dropping to one knee. “Forgive my impertinence, Your Highness. Of a certainty, you have my sword. I serve at the pleasure of the princess.”
Thank the nine… The next chance she found alone with her brother, she would hug the breath right from his scarred, able chest.
Her mother stood. “As do I.”
Faedrah smiled, tears born of relief blurring her vision as she nodded in thanks to her strong and noble queen.
“Aye, lassie.” Casting a sidelong glance her father, Denmar pushed his chair back from the table and knelt. “Lead on and I shall follow.”
Fandorn squinted, tapping a bony finger against his lips. “My verdict remains bound to the king.”
Faedrah’s gaze landed on her father, head bent, thumb and index finger stroking the neatly trimmed beard on his chin. He slowly lifted his eyes to hers, but he did not stand. “You have the support of the crown.”
Meaning, as king, he stood with her. As her father, he did not.
ʼTwould have to do… for now.
“Then these proceedings have reached their end.” Spinning on her heel, she beckoned Rhys with a wave of her hand and strode at his side from the room.
Chapter 6
The stars are different here…
Rhys shrugged off the chilly spring breeze blowing through the castle’s high narrow window, a bizarre constellation in the shape of a sickle perfectly centered in the frame. If only his adjustment to being in Faedrah’s world began and ended with a few misplaced stars. Maybe then his comments wouldn’t have derailed that so-called homecoming celebration so far off the fucking track.
The long narrow rug muffled his boot heels as he strolled the quiet corridor outside his angel’s bedroom, nodding a greeting to the two soldiers stationed on either side of the door
. Regardless, he would have given anything to kick that pretentious asshole Vlandross in the ass. The woodworkers’ guild, for fuck’s sake. Rhys rolled his eyes and stopped before the next window to peer up at the night sky. More than a few donations had probably found their way into the councilman’s pocket to guarantee he brought up that topic with the king. His back alley double-talk was the exact same kind of bullshit Leo loved to use in his smarmy business tactics, and the reminder had nearly made Rhys lose his shit. No telling what would’ve happened if Faedrah hadn’t stepped in and put the jackass in his place.
He grunted. Hell, she’d put everyone in their place, and in that singular moment he’d never been more proud to be the man standing at her side. A few sharp words off her talented tongue, and everyone at that table had blushed like they’d gotten busted smoking in the bathroom at school.
A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. He should’ve known getting her pissed would lead straight to the answer of what came next. No one with a brain in their head would be stupid enough to get in his angel’s way once she was on a rampage. Not if they planned to be spit out the other side with their faculties intact.
Inhaling a deep breath, he closed his eyes and cleared his mind, searching for any hint Gaelleod might be trying to sneak his bony ass into Faedrah’s dreams. The blackness on the back of his eyelids remained blank. The only sounds echoing against his eardrums, the beat of his heart and the far-off chirping of frogs.
Maybe she was still awake. He blinked and shook his head. It had only been a few minutes since he’d stepped into the hall, hoping that by removing himself the ball-busting tension in the room would drop several degrees so she could relax.
Shortly after they’d arrived at her bedroom door, her parents had shown up, hot on their heels. And the back-off scowls her dad had aimed at Rhys from the second they’d entered Faedrah’s receiving room, had reallocated Leo’s sneers to the welcoming cuddles of a fuzzy puppy. Apparently, the king was in lock-down mode, and the last thing he wanted was some cheese ball interloper sniffing around his daughter.
