by Riana Lucas
He chuckles at my attempted defiance but does nothing otherwise. Instead he continues, “Seelie friends at that. Interesting. I would have never thought you, of all of my warriors, would befriend the enemy.”
My stomach begins to turn at the satisfaction in his voice and at his attempt to make me guilty. I know he is referring to the death of “my parents,” but I know the truth now and will not allow him to manipulate me.
I think fast, and an idea comes to me. If I can make the king believe I only used them, maybe he will just put them in prison. Then I can get them out once again. Trying to distance myself from them, I take a few steps forward as I say to the king, “They aren’t my friends. The queen would not let me leave her court unless they came too, so I allowed them to accompany me.”
“Ahh. So your plan was what, exactly? Free my prisoners with the help of these despicable seelie fae and what, send them on their way?” he asks with a sneer.
“No. I planned to free my friends and then trade the seelie fae for them.”
I sense the tension growing behind me and hope my friends trust me well enough to know I am doing this for them, but the growing strain makes me nervous. Then I hear Holly and can tell she does not trust me at all.
“Traitor! I knew it! I told them you would betray us! You’re no better than the rest of your court. I should’ve killed you when I had the chance!”
I cringe at her accusations as well as at her bravery. It takes all my strength not to turn to her. I don’t want any of them to think this of me, but even more, I don’t want the king to punish her for her outburst.
Before I can say or do anything, the king begins to laugh. The sound still holds the same sinister and evil tone as before, but I can also catch true humor. This is all a silly game for him, something to pass the time and torture other fae. “I can see this one sincerely does not trust you. Hatred rolls off her. Maybe what you say is true, but do you really think I would allow any fae to come into my court, break into my dungeon, free my prisoners, and then walk free? Who do you think you are?” His voice becomes lower and more deadly as he speaks, so much so it is almost a whisper by the time he finishes. The sound makes me cringe inside, but I refuse to cower to him. I will remain strong and hopeful.
Until Damien steps forward. Curse him. Of course he is not going to let the king believe for one moment these fae are anything but my friends. Not only did he witness our reunion and overhear our conversation, but he recognizes that I know who I really am.
I glare up at him, but he only smirks back at me before turning fully to the king once again. “Don’t be fooled by this, My King. She’s lying. When I caught them in the dungeon, they were quite close and friendly with one another. There were hugs, introductions, tears, and all that nonsense. This one—” He turns to gesture toward Holly and then turns back to the king. “—does seem to truly hate our dear Poppy, but I assure you, they’re all working together.”
The king narrows his eyes at me, watching without saying a word. I swallow as I try to keep from visibly trembling.
Triumphantly Damien looks at me once again. His hatred for me clear in the way his eyes narrow at me and his lips turn up into a sneer. I always had to watch my back, had to stay armed and alert, but I always associated the feelings with being one of the unseelie. Now I see what it truly was. They all were acquainted with my true identity and hated me for where I came from. But Damien’s hatred probably runs even deeper. To have had to care for me, train me, and treat me with respect must have been more than difficult for him. It made his hatred simmer and burn with a vengeance.
I open my mouth to protest, but Damien delivers the final blow. “She is aware of her true identity, My King.”
This time the king’s eyes widen as he leans back into his throne. His hands wrap around the arms of his chair; from here I can see his knuckles whiten from the tightness of his grip. Although he seems surprised and caught off-guard, his voice is still deadly when he speaks. “What exactly does she know?” His question comes out slowly and carefully, leaving no room for misunderstanding.
Damien begins to fidget beside me, noticing the tone and mood of the king. He is not happy about this. “She learned it from the queen. Apparently, the queen told her everything.”
“What is everything? I will not ask again.” His eyes have narrowed once more, but he still maintains a death grip on his armrest, and his words hiss in anger.
“She has been informed of the night we gained access to the seelie court. She knows of her abduction later and of my care for her. She’s also aware that the queen is her mother and that she is the princess of the seelie court.”
The king sits there, furious, trying to figure out how to proceed from here. His face is growing red as his grip tightens on the chair even further. I can just imagine the wood splintering under his grip, his anger so clear. I have no doubt he is probably wondering if he should kill us all and make it simple, or if he should hold us prisoner so he may torture us for a bit. He may even be thinking ransom to the queen may be an acceptable option.
But all of those thoughts travel in and out of my head swiftly. Instead, I turn my thoughts to Damien, replaying his words over in my head. He failed to mention one very important part of the information I was now aware of. Something I am sure the king would wish to know as well: who my father is and who it was that told me.
I look over at Damien. His face is paler than usual as he stares at the king, and his eyes glitter with fear now. He must sense my eye on him, because he snaps his gaze to me quickly. When our eyes meet, I give him a little smirk of my own. His eyes widen a fraction, the pulse in his neck jumps. I am so glad he recognizes what I am about to do. With a wink, I turn back to the king.
“Excuse me, Your Majesty?” I say in the sweetest, most innocent voice I can manage, considering the circumstances.
“What?” he bellows. His face is red, and his knuckles are as white as the marble in his floor. I can feel his anger in waves all around the room, but I do not allow it to stop me.
“I also know who my father is,” I declare.
There are a few gasps from behind me, a few of my friends already jumping to the right conclusion. Although I had wished to inform Reed and Rho of my seelie heritage once we were safe from the unseelie court, it was not something I could wait for. They would not only be learning of that now, but also of the same shocking and horrifying news I had only moments ago learned. Reed would not fully understand what all of this meant, and Rho would still be confused, but the rest of my friends would now be informed of the whole story: the unseelie king himself was my father and the one who had violated their queen.
For some reason, this news seems to calm the king. His grip loosens on the chair, and the deep red color begins to leave his face. He takes a breath, eyeing me cautiously before glancing at Damien and then back to me. The expression on his face does not give anything away this time. Only moments pass, but it feels like hours as he sits there staring at all of us until he finally tilts his head to the right. Narrowing his eyes once again, he ask smoothly, this time more curious than threatening, “Do you now?”
“I do.” My words come out more as a challenge than a statement, daring him to question me further.
“And who, my dear, do you think it is?” he asks with the same false sweetness I used on him moments ago.
Smiling widely, baring my white, slightly pointy teeth in more of a sneer than a smile, I tilt my head to the side, same as he. “That would be you, My King.” I finish the last two words with a sneer of my own. I lose the false smile and finally allow my anger to show.
Now that I have let go of the control holding in my anger, some of my instincts begin to take over. My heart begins to pump faster, and my warrior instincts kick in. The slight transformation begins to take place, and I do not try to stop it or hide it. The features on my face will get sharper, my teeth will be a bit pointier, and my eyes will brighten. I want the king to see that I am ready to fight.
&
nbsp; The king lets out a few soft curses but quickly composes himself. “That’s a nice theory, young one, but who told you that? It couldn’t have been the queen you now call mother. She would never dare tell such a lie.”
“You are correct. My mother,” I state proudly, allowing the fondness for her to show in my voice, “did not tell me this. I am sure she suspects, but she only remembers your storming into her court and the appearance of your face before she became unconscious. Then she knows of her daughter later being stolen and of whispers and stories of my life.” My anger at him is only growing as I recount the pain my mother suffered at this fae’s hands. “Finally, she found me and confirmed that I did indeed live. But as for the rest, she does not know.”
“What a nice story. Pain, torment, and suffering.” He laughs at his own joke, and the guards at the door chuckle as well.
I roll my eyes. I cannot help it.
The king, of course, does not miss my show of disrespect. His laughter stops abruptly, replaced by a sneer. “I’m growing tired of this game. You’re in my court, and you will respect me by answering my question. Who told you this lie?” he shouts once again.
I smile broadly at him then turn the same smile on Damien. I give him a sly look before looking again at the king. His eyes have narrowed, and he is now shooting quick glances between Damien and me, putting it together on his own, slowly.
Before he can say it, I do. Small victories. “Damien did.”
Then chaos erupts.
Chapter Sixteen
Gasps and muttered curses come from behind me, revealing the obvious shock of my friends. I feel a twinge of guilt at not being able to tell them first, but there was no other choice. Catching the king off-guard by revealing Damien’s betrayal will hopefully buy me enough favor to negotiate with the king. It is all I could come up with. I know the king did not want me to know that he was my father; if he did, he would have told me himself long ago. The king wanted me left in the dark, probably hoping I would always remain true to the unseelie court, fighting against my own mother's people, my people. However, I was not quite prepared for all my revelation would do, though.
I stare in disbelief as the scene begins to unfold in front of me, as if in slow motion. My mind is unable to keep up. For some reason my instincts do not kick in.
The king begins to speak in his deadliest tone of the evening. “You. You told her of her parentage. You were sworn to an oath. You took a vow, not only as a member of the unseelie court but also as my second-in-command. I will have you killed for this.”
The guards' stance shifts from boredom to alertness.
“No, Your Majesty! You can’t! She tricked me. I didn’t mean to tell her. She told me she already knew. This is her fault, not mine. It’s the trickery of the seelie. She’s trying to get in here and disrupt our court, to cause chaos. She was sent by the queen! You can’t trust her or what she says! Even her own friends don’t trust her! You must believe me!” Damien’s voice started out weak but grew stronger and more defiant as he finished.
The king does not miss this. He jumps to his feet, causing the guards at the door to take a few steps closer to us, hands moving to the hilts of their swords, ready to defend their king. As he takes a few threatening steps toward the edge of his dais, Damien’s spine straightens, and his own anger visibly builds. For every step the king takes, Damien takes a step as well—toward the king, who does not miss this either.
“You dare stand up to me! You dare defend your actions with lies!” The king stares at Damien as Damien stares right back defiantly. “Guards!” the king finally yells and begins to turn his back on Damien, assuming the problem is resolved. That is a mistake.
Damien will not go down without a fight. He reaches to pull his daggers from their sheaths on each hip. Before he can get to them, both of the guards are on him. Combined, they may be an even match for him. Damien is much stronger than either one, forcing both of them to fight him at the same time. Soon, the sound of blades clashing and metal clanging fill the room as the guards position themselves between Damien and the king.
The king whips around at the sound, but instead of anger, a look of amusement crosses his face. He sits down on his throne and leans back, getting comfortable, to view the fight. He knows this fight will be to the death, and he will enjoy watching the spectacle.
The two guards come at Damien from his right and his left, trying to force him to focus on only one of them. When the guard on his right lunges, Damien quickly stabs him in the stomach. He sinks his dagger in to the hilt, then spins to block the coming blow from the other guard. As the one guard slumps dead to the floor, the other guard’s eyes widen in sudden realization and horror. He knows he cannot defeat Damien, but he also cannot concede. His only options are to be killed by Damien now or later by the king if he chooses to bow out.
He makes his choice, and it is the right one: a fight to the end, which will be quick and less painful. If the king were to kill him, his death would be long and torturous. The guard tries as hard as possible to get past Damien’s defenses in hopes of landing a fatal blow. He and Damien exchange a few easily blocked blows, but this can only last so long. Damien finally gains the upper hand. He blocks a swipe of the sword aimed at his stomach and pushes the other fae to his hands and knees on the ground. When he lands, his sword remains in his hand, but when the metal clangs against the floor Damien steps on the blade to keep him from lifting the sword. He lifts his head to look at Damien. When their eyes meet, Damien thrust his dagger out and slices the guard’s throat
Only now, I realize more is going on around me. I had been so caught up in the fight, frozen, waiting for the outcome, I did not notice anything else. The king starts to clap mockingly, but then Gideon and Reed shout. I whirl around from the dead fae and Damien to realize Rho is running across the room, Gideon and Reed chasing after her.
My mind still seems to be in slow motion, as if I’m under a spell, which I soon realize is the case. I’d been so caught up in everything, I failed to notice the familiar tingle of Rho’s magic slowly seeping into me. Now it’s too late. All I can do is stand and stare in horror as Rho sprints across the marble floor from the door to the throne where the king is sitting.
He did not even bother to look threatened by the fast-approaching fae, but the look of anger and pure determination on her face tells me she is not bluffing. Everything becomes fuzzy and muffled at this point. I try to move toward her, but my body will only move at a snail’s pace. I hear shouting and cursing as well as movement and scrambling, but none of this makes sense.
Rho races past the pile of weapons that had been tossed onto the floor. She reaches down and grabs one of my daggers without even breaking stride. Then she reaches the bottom of the king’s dais and practically flies up the stairs.
My mind and body try to fight against the spell keeping me practically frozen but to no avail. I stare in utter disbelief as Rho pulls the dagger high above her head and throws herself on the king while arching her arm down to thrust the dagger into his chest.
This is when the throne of thorns comes to life. The branches writhe and swirl as they begin to consume the occupants of the throne. I hear screaming and realize I am the one making the noise. The king is bellowing and fighting. Rho remains silent as she pushes the king further and further into the deadly chair. The thorns begin to cut into both of them and blood seeps onto the floor beneath them.
Rho must be hurt enough that her spell lifts, allowing me to finally move. Reed and Holly are both standing at the base of the king’s dais, frozen in shock and horror. I push past them and run for her as fast as I can. As soon as I reach her, I reach out and rip her away from the king’s lifeless form.
He is dead. Rho has killed him, with his own ridiculous spell.
When I pull her into my arms, I look down at her bloody and broken body. She is not moving and she does not seem to be breathing. Reed is at my side immediately. He begins checking for signs of life as I hold her, tears escapin
g from my eyes.
“Poppy?” Reed’s voice is a soft whisper, both compassionate and sad. “Poppy, we have to get her out of here. She’s still breathing, but barely. We have to get out of here or we’ll all be killed.”
I look up at him in confusion, not comprehending anything he is saying. Shaking my head at him, I look down at Rho’s pale, blood-stained face. It’s so odd for her to not have a smile on her face or for her beautiful pink hair to be bouncing around. Soon I feel a hand on my shoulder but don’t look. The next thing I know, Rho is being lifted out of my arms. I reach for her to keep her with me, but I am too weak. Then strong arms wrap around me as I am being lifted as well. Reed’s face is so close to mine now, but I still don’t understand what is going on.
He starts talking to me. At first, everything is all jumbled together and makes no sense, but eventually I try to focus on his words and they begin to mean something. “…We have to find a way out. Does anyone have any ideas?”
“The back,” I whisper weakly.
Reed looks down at me, startled for a moment that I spoke, but he quickly gets back to the problem at hand. “What?”
“There is a back entrance. The king’s escape route that leads to the stables.” My voice is still soft but grows stronger as my surroundings start to come back to me.
“Which way?” Reed asks, already walking toward the back of the throne room.
“Let me down.” He gives me a doubtful look, but when I narrow my eyes at him, he stops and lowers me to the ground. Taking a second to reorient myself, I glance around and then begin to walk to the back of the room. “Follow me,” I toss back, not wanting to look at the others. I do not want to see the pity or concern in their eyes, and I do not want to see Rho either. If I set eyes on her again, I am not sure I will be able to continue. Right now, she needs me more than anything. I have to be strong for her.
I quickly lead the others to the back wall of the throne room, which is the same as the others but with one small difference: a hidden passageway, similar to the one we used to gain entrance to the castle. Resting my palm on the cool marble, I slowly begin to move my hand, feeling for the right spot. When I find the mechanism, I press firmly, causing the wall to swoosh open.
