A Queen Comes to Power: An Heir Comes to Rise Book 2 Page 4

  The room was empty aside from his father, who stood over a map with counters and wooden figures spread across it, and a couple of guards as usual.

  “You wished to see me, Father?” Nik stopped halfway down the long table and stood straight to address the king.

  “Ah, yes. I would like to discuss arrangements for the kings’ meetings next week.” He tore his eyes from the map to look at him. “I’ve been thinking about propositions for my spymaster.”

  At the mention of Faythe, Nik shifted nervously but waited in silence for him to continue.

  The king walked a few paces to stand at the head of the table, resting a hand on the back of his throne with a creased brow while he pondered his own thoughts. “Having her in uniform posted next to the guards won’t give her the opportunity to engage and gain trust among the other courts. There is only so much she can find out in a few meetings,” he said, fiddling aimlessly with the sigil ring on his finger.

  “What do you propose for her?” Nik asked, antsy with anticipation.

  The king’s eyes met his once again, stark black that had chased away all hues of brown over a century ago. Nik thought nothing of it at first; perhaps it was only a trick of the light. But along with his eyes, he didn’t fail to notice the inner change in his father also. He hadn’t always been so harsh in his discipline and ruthless in his plans. For a long time, there had been an added layer of cruelty Nik could only pin down to the aftereffects of the Great Battles, then losing the queen, Nik’s mother.

  “I wanted your thoughts on presenting her as a lady of the court instead.”

  Nik’s instinct was to splutter or laugh or ridicule the idea, though that would be highly inappropriate given his company, so he kept his face placid despite his internal conflict.

  “She will dine with us on the first night, charm the other courts, and it will give her a means to engage with them outside of meetings to dive in for further information.”

  It was a smart plan with one glaring problem: Faythe was as straight as a die with her thoughts and emotions. “Charming” was a far cry from what he anticipated from her in the presence of fae nobles. It was one thing for her to stand in silence and get the information the king wanted, and a whole other to ask her to lie through her teeth and be pleasant while she racked the minds of unwitting foreign court members.

  “It would be a fine idea, but I fear she is not well-educated in court life. And she’s human. It might be too difficult a lie to spin,” Nik said cautiously.

  “You will teach her,” the king answered a little more cheerfully than Nik expected, clearly reveling in his own brilliant plan. “It is the perfect cover. And I do not need to remind you or her that her position could change any day I see fit.”

  Nik didn’t miss the hint of a threat in those words and didn’t feel it was solely directed at the spymaster either. It shook him with mild alarm. Did the king know more about his relations with Faythe than he let on?

  “Of course. I will see to it that she is prepared, and if she tries anything smart, I will personally bring her to you in chains,” he said as confidently as he could.

  It must have been convincing enough as a cruel smile split the king’s face. “Excellent. I know you will not disappoint.”

  Just then, the doors groaned open, and the prince’s heart skipped a beat when the spymaster in question glided through the door. Wisps of lilac and white from her delicate gown trailed after her, and she strolled in with an air of confidence to address the king. Nik would have admired her beauty in the court’s fine silks as he always found himself struck by it, except he was too overcome with dread at knowing the purpose of her visit.

  “I need to speak with you, Your Majesty,” she asserted, and Nik’s nerves rattled. Faythe stood firm, not even offering a bow.

  It didn’t go unnoticed. The king’s eyes flashed at the lack of respect.

  “Then speak,” he said in a low tone that would have most fae quivering in their boots.

  Nik watched Faythe’s chest expand as she took a long inhale and braced himself for the worst.

  “I want free movement to go outside the city walls.”

  Not a question. Not a request. Spirits have mercy on them all at the spymaster’s boldness. Nik dared a glance at his father and caught the flinch of his narrowed eyes.

  “Your wants are not my concern,” he said simply. “I will not risk you using mind tricks to elude the guards and escape.”

  “I have been here for months and done everything you have asked. If I wanted to escape, I would have managed that long ago,” Faythe said, and he knew her well enough to note the rise of her temper in her tone.

  Gods help them.

  The king’s jaw flexed at her insolence. “Perhaps I should have you chained when you are not needed then, girl.” His dominance in the room rose as the king and the spymaster faced off in a lethal battle of wills.

  Nik wasn’t sure if he should admire the human who was brave enough to stand up against a fae king or chastise her for her stupidity and complete disregard for her own life.

  “You could have kept me in chains from the beginning, but my cooperation makes things easier for you.”

  Nik could have collapsed at her defiant stance. Even the few guards shifted a little. He wasn’t sure who unsettled them the most.

  The king stepped away from the chair he was leaning on and slowly walked closer to Faythe. To her credit, she didn’t balk at the dark force that crept up to her. Instead, she stood straighter and raised her chin.

  Nik didn’t move, didn’t even dare to breathe too loud, afraid any interference would be the catalyst for the pair to explode.

  “You forget that you are only alive out of my mercy, girl. You are not irreplaceable.” The king’s voice rumbled low and deadly.

  Faythe took a step toward Nik’s father, and he jerked a fraction in response to the lamb recklessly approaching the predator who could end her with a single strike. “Am I not?” she challenged audaciously, and Nik knew that if she made it even halfway through her mortal lifespan with those wits—or lack thereof—it would be a miracle.

  He noted the twitch of movement in his father’s arm as he refrained from reaching for his mighty blade, the legendary Farrow Sword with a Griffin-carved pommel, to bring it down on the human right there. “I have many skilled Nightwalkers who are not so different from you. The information may come at a slower pace, but do not make the mistake of thinking I won’t hesitate to end your pitiful existence.”

  Faythe took another step toward the king, and Spirits be damned, Nik had to brace a hand on the table in front of him to stop from lunging over it and placing himself between them. “Yes, you do. Your own son is a fine testament to that,” she said, but she did not remove her eyes from the king. “But can your Nightwalkers bring your enemies to their knees before you without touching them? Can they bend their will right before your eyes? Can they reveal secrets and lies straight from the mouth of the deceiver?” She tilted her head as if offering the king a chance to counter her statements. Gods, the woman had a daring nerve like no one he’d ever known before.

  When the king didn’t respond, she continued. “Perhaps you want a demonstration. Is the captain available for another show?” Faythe glanced around the room, and every guard shifted on their feet, averting their gaze.

  “I will kill you for your impudence alone, girl. Don’t overestimate your use to me.”

  Nik didn’t doubt his father would hold true to that threat. He wanted to whack sense into her. Picking a fight with the King of High Farrow was a whole new level of foolishness for Faythe.

  “I’m bound to die at your hand anyway. By life imprisonment as your puppet, or by your sword—it makes no difference to me.”

  The pair faced off for a long moment, and the weight of the thick, rising tension in the room was crushing.

  To Nik’s absolute shock, the king conceded first, though the rage still simmered in the crevices of his face as he turned away from th
e spymaster and strolled back to the head of the table. He was silent for a moment, and Nik knew the look that glazed his father’s eyes as if he could see the cogs turning in his head.

  “Very well,” he said in a calm tone that made Nik tremble. “You will be allowed access to the outer town.”

  Faythe relaxed a little in surprise.

  “But…you will go in uniform and as part of the guard patrol.”

  Nik snapped his head to his father at the proposition. The king nodded at his own cunning plan.

  “Yes, this could work to our advantage. You will have your freedom, and in return, the humans will be grateful to see one of their kind has been given such a generous placement within the castle. They will thank their king and know they are not left without a voice in the outer towns. You will be it for them. In appearance,” he finished with a wicked smile.

  Anger was written on Faythe’s face at the additional terms to her small dose of freedom. She was to be paraded to her people as a lie. The king had no intention of listening to the woes and sufferings of his human subjects, but her presence out there, in a royal uniform, would earn him all the favor he needed to keep them quiet and even more obedient.

  Faythe looked as if she was straining against protesting further, but mercifully, she saw it was the best she was going to get from the king and nodded once.

  His father grinned triumphantly, but the grin subsided as he said, “Good. Now, get out of my sight before I decide your skills aren’t worth that arrogant mouth of yours.”

  The spymaster didn’t hesitate nor even glance at Nik as she spun on her heel and the guards opened the doors for her to leave. He didn’t take the lack of acknowledgment to heart. As soon as she was out of sight, he physically relaxed, realizing he had been painfully rigid in fear and anticipation since Faythe first set foot in the hall.

  “I shall leave you to inform her of her new role for the forthcoming week.”

  Nik met the black eyes of the king at the sound of his voice.

  “She will not speak unless spoken to. She will hold that tongue of hers, and she will not get the chance to undermine me in my own court again,” he said in a deadly warning Nik knew was as much for him as it was for Faythe. She would be his problem to handle and his punishment to face if she stepped out of line.

  The crown prince swallowed hard but gave his father a firm nod of understanding. Even though he knew the Spirits themselves could not tame the fire that burned eternally within Faythe.

  Chapter 4

  Faythe

  The day following her confrontation with the King of High Farrow, Faythe enjoyed a walk through the castle gardens with Tauria, feeling as if a weight had been lifted at her small victory. The king’s conditions still pierced her heart with another dagger of control. He gave nothing without working it to his ultimate advantage. The price of seeing her friends beyond the wall was to submit to patrolling the outer town as a walking lie, a false frontage, to make them believe the king was generous and caring of their lives when he would sooner let them all perish outside the walls than offer sanctuary in the face of an attack.

  It was a dangerous gamble to confront the king—one she really wasn’t confident she would walk away from. But in an act of pure, reckless insanity, she finally snapped, damning the consequences to finally take back some of her lost voice.

  The bitter air nipped at her cheeks as she strolled slowly over the pristine stone paths alongside the ward. Though beautiful and well-kept, the gardens didn’t compare to the Eternal Woods. Every piece of nature she encountered now, Faythe couldn’t help but notice the grass was a shade duller, the flowers not as bloomed, and the water murkier.

  She found herself missing the spot she frequented with Nik. It was the one carefree, safe space she missed the most, free from any wandering eyes and where she was liberated to be completely and wholly herself. Her heart ached in longing to have those moments again. She mindlessly reached a hand under her cloak to grasp the gold star pendant that lay there.

  “From the prince, I assume?” Tauria’s voice of song lifted her from her reflections.

  It took Faythe a moment to realize she meant her necklace, and her cheeks flushed. Dropping it, she nodded. “A gift for my birthday.”

  The ward smiled warmly. “You have his heart, you know?” she said casually.

  Faythe detected a hint of sadness on Tauria’s smooth tan face, though she insisted there was never any romantic history between her and Nik during times when Faythe had needed to curb her curiosity and guiltily soothe her jealousy at the thought.

  “There’s a bond there for sure,” Faythe said.

  Tauria’s courtly life made her a master of masks to hide her true feelings in the presence of high-born nobles, but Faythe picked up on the slight twitches that gave her away. Averting her gaze for a second when she heard something she didn’t like was one of them.

  She added, “But it’s the same bond I have with my friends, Jakon and Marlowe.”

  Tauria’s lips curled up a little, but not in happiness. “You’re lucky to have friends you can trust. Court life can be lonely. I can never be sure which of the lords and ladies want to know me for me or my status as the king’s ward.” The perfect golden skin on her forehead creased in suppressed sadness.

  It filled Faythe with guilt. She had spent all her time in the castle complaining about her own misfortune and never considered how tough life could be for someone like Tauria who suffered under the king’s rule daily. A ward, a princess, who appeared to have everything on the outside: beauty, luxuries, the king’s favor. Faythe figured no one realized it all meant nothing without the fruits of life’s labor—the real connections made along the way.

  “You know you have a friend in me, always,” Faythe said, and she meant every word.

  Tauria smiled in appreciation. “There’s something about you, Faythe. I don’t know exactly what it is, but it gives me hope for us all.”

  Faythe was about to laugh at the ridiculous compliment, but one look at the ferocity in Tauria’s face made her nervous smile drop. Her searching brown orbs almost set her in a trance, and she realized they had stopped walking.

  “I’m just a tyrant king’s spymaster,” Faythe said, averting her gaze out of shame.

  “No. You are so much more, and you cannot let him break you.”

  From the moment Faythe first spoke to the ward, that night on the balcony when her fate became sealed to the king, she knew Tauria was not the simple, polite court lady she had deceived everyone into thinking she was. No—behind the innocence of beauty, there was a fierce warrior who would bow to no one and stop at nothing to see her kingdom returned to her and her parents avenged. She had yet to open up to Faythe about the dark days over a century ago that saw her home kingdom conquered and her family slaughtered, or how she managed to make it to High Farrow to find sanctuary. But Faythe wouldn’t push for the story that clearly haunted the ward all these years later.

  She cleared her throat and linked her arm with Tauria’s so they could resume their leisurely stroll. “Tell me more about Fenstead,” she said to divert the conversation away from herself.

  Tauria beamed at the mention of her home and started an immersive description of the beauty of the lands and the wonders of the people. It was a rural kingdom with far more open hilltops and forests, which made their sigil of a stag seem all the more fitting. The ward’s face lit up with brightness and enthusiasm when she spoke of her people and homeland.

  “I hope you get the chance to see it someday,” she gushed.

  Faythe gave her a weak smile, but even in Tauria’s eye, a glint of dejection gave away her wishful thinking. With a mortal lifespan, it was unlikely Faythe would ever see the day the princess took back her kingdom and throne.

  Never before had she longed for any more years than her human body would sustain her for. Yet now, having two friends who would hold their youth while she turned gray and frail, her stomach sank horribly at the thought of ever parting
with them. There would be so many things she would miss out on in Nik and Tauria’s lives thanks to the wicked curse of time.

  Noting her sorrow, the ward nudged her shoulder. “Watch this.”

  Faythe’s eyes followed as Tauria glided over to the dull bushes, bare from the effects of winter, and raised a delicate hand to them. Right under her fingertips, a fluorescent green stalk spiraled from the crooked brown branches, and a rose of the purest white bloomed out of its bud. Tauria picked it from the gloom of the shrub and held it out to Faythe, who took the thornless rose in awe.

  Tauria was wonderfully gifted in elemental magick, a Windbreaker with the ability to command the air around her, but she had also inherited some of her mother’s talent as a Florakinetic and could easily manipulate nature.

  “I’d trade my ability for yours any day,” Faythe said, admiring the perfectly blossomed flower.

  “For mind control? It’s a deal.”

  Faythe chuckled, and they linked arms for the rest of the walk around the gardens.

  They strolled lazily, chatting aimlessly, until the sun started to fall behind the impeccable white buildings with a last wave from its fleeting rays before dusk welcomed the night. The air dropped to a temperature that had them shivering, and Faythe was surprised by how much time had passed. She welcomed the mundane distraction. It was a feeling she had been missing from her blonde friend over the wall.

  When they were back inside and warm again, Faythe announced, “I have to go—I’m heading out with the outer-town patrol tonight.”

  She wasted no time in finding out exactly when the day and night patrols were scheduled to leave each day and jumped on the first opportunity to see her home again. She made note of exactly who would be given each assignment. A few of the guards were friendlier to her than others, and she had plans to divert herself from the group to see her friends.

  “Can I come?” Tauria asked with a beam of excitement.

  Faythe raised her eyebrows at the ward’s eagerness, not expecting her to be the least bit interested in the dreary town.