The Fae King's Ruin

The King and the High Table

It was embarrassing how closely Avery had been watching Princess Aislin.

Only thirty minutes had passed since they sat down for dinner and already, the way she talked, the way she ate— even the way she swallowed, had become so fu*cking riveting for him that it was getting harder and harder to look away.

He was slowly turning into a creep. An obvious one at that, if Res’ sideways glances were any indication.

But his fascination was not uncalled for. Princess Aislin was, for him, an enigma. Quiet but observant, tactful yet never overly shy to voice her thoughts, he had to admit that a small part of him always believed that the Unseelie brought up their females to be invisible. Unseen and unheard. Looking at her, however, he could not see that in the way the princess carried herself.

Perhaps she was just raised differently. And that raised more questions than answers.

He wanted to hear about how she grew up, if she received an education and if it was similar to the one he'd received as heir.

Did the Unseelie even prepare her for such a role? Did they anticipate that she would be queen? Her brother, Drakos, had been in his prime when he died and as far as he knew, Princess Aislin was only a few decades old.

Too young, he thought with sadness, to be leading an entire faction of Fae.

The wine stung his tongue as he drank, washing down the rich taste of the spiced pork. His stomach was full and properly sated, having consumed one of the best meals he’s had in months. Avery realized that it was due to him actually eating and not just imbibing for sustenance because he was just so busy to bother tasting the food.

He hasn’t had a true, unhurried meal since the war had ended and so he sat back, as Avery half-listened to Res as he regaled them with stories from lifetimes ago when they were both younger, all about one misadventure after another that coaxed this beautiful, twinkling sound out of Aislin in the form of laughter.

It was oddly refreshing to see her smiling so much, an obvious deviation from her usually severe expression. Even her cousin seemed to be enjoying himself, if not a tad bit attached to his wine glass. He was glad he had thought of inviting the both of them to dinner. Avery hated eating alone and guilt was eating him up for basically not thinking of how his guests were being treated in his own home.

Blue eyes almost as deep as the night sky looked sideways at him, peeking under long, dark lashes and pulling Avery out of his head and back into the noisy Grand Hall where everyone seemed to be immensely enjoying himself and was oblivious to the rest of his painfully loud thoughts.

“And you, King Avery?” Aislin asked, a mischievous smirk threatening to stretch wider. “Where were you when Res was being chided for letting the new stallions out of the stable?”

“You wound me, Princess!” Res pouted pathetically. “I did not let them get out. They simply figured out how the latches worked all by themselves!"

Aislin laughed, a slender hand covering her mouth. “What clever horses, then.”

Avery grinned. “While his father and mine berated him, I was hiding behind the stables, up on a branch, and eating all the mangoes to my heart’s content.”

“Some friend you are,” he said, scoffing. “You didn’t even bother to help me round up the horses.”

“What can I say, Res?” He shrugged. “I like seeing you suffer. Is that not why I made you my Hand?”

His friend rolled his eyes before turning to Aelthrys. “I’m curious. Is there a similar position in the Unseelie Court, General?”

Aelthrys promptly shook his head. “There are advisers and there is me: in-charge of all military engagements, strategy, and defense, up until at one point in the war where I was dismissed.”

Avery could not help but not miss the way Aislin’s smile fell off her face. Res shifted in his seat. “Which point?”

The corner of Aelthrys’ mouth quirked up in an ironic half-smile. “The Battle of Alfheim.”

“Really?” Avery frowned a little, remembering that battle all too well. “Why? If you do not mind my asking, that is.”

Aelthrys’ lips pursed, and for a moment he looked like he would rather not say why.

Avery already knew the answer would be all kinds of unpleasant, but he still did not expect it when he said, “I pulled my soldiers from that field because I didn’t want them to die in a foreign land, fighting against fae for something most of them did not even believe in. Only spellcasters and summoners were left because they were not under my division.”

Res looked at Avery with the same horror and awe. “That was why there was barely any fae in that battle. Other than from our side, of course.”

But he was already staring at Aelthrys. He had always wondered how they had managed that battle. Yes, it was rough and the demons the opposing side had conjured up absolutely more than made up for the lack of actual soldiers on the field, but there should have been more casualties. At first, he had chalked it up to Lorenzo’s appearance, guns blazing quite literally as the first part of the Celestial Prophecy came true.

He knew it had to be more than that, however, and Aelthrys’ small confession proved it.

It could not have been easy on his part as an esteemed general to be dismissed so easily from such a post. But if Aelthrys had not done what he did, far too many people would have been in mourning after that horrid battle.

Aelthrys looked up at Avery, silver-ringed eyes far too intense with the emotions he knew the General kept inside. Avery bowed his head.

“Thank you,” he murmured. “I know you did not do it for us, but your judgment saved me and mine. I’ll never forget that, General.”

“This is why the treaty is far too important,” Aislin murmured quietly. Her dark eyes settled on him. “So war does not befall our people again and hurt anyone else.”

Avery smiled. He poured wine for each of them before raising his own. “For the treaty,” he proposed.

Aislin raised her glass. “For peace between our courts.”

Res and Aelthrys raised the glass, murmuring their own agreements before they all took deep pulls. The wine electrified Avery’s blood, warming him right up. Around them, everyone else seemed to grow louder, taking their joyful cheers as a cue to celebrate a little louder without really caring what they were actually celebrating.

His Hand and the Princess’ general fell into a quiet discussion of what an Unseelie, monarchical government looked like. Res had a barrage of questions about it and Avery tried to gauge if the General was getting pissed off about how many they actually were. When he was sure that Aelthrys was not going to storm off from annoyance, he turned to Aislin.

“You’re still eating?” he blurted out, surprised.

The Princess blushed a deep shade of red, moving to set down her fork and knife.

“No! No, please don’t stop!” Avery insisted, turning a golden shade himself. “I mean, I am pleased. I’m sorry if I embarrassed you.”

Aislin chuckled, ducking her head and staring at the half-eaten contents of her plate. “I never ask for seconds,” she said, glancing at him. “But when I enjoy my company, I let myself indulge a little. So perhaps you should take it as a compliment, Your Majesty.”

Avery grinned, lifting his hand to rest upon his heart. “I am sufficiently flattered, Your Highness.” He pointed to the cake sitting on his side of the table. “Have you tried this?”

“I’m still getting around this steak, Avery, so no.”

He blinked at her, his laughter bubbling out at the exact moment that the Princess’ own eyes widened, realizing what she had called him. Avery started laughing as soon as she began her string of apologies that amused him even further.

“Why do you look so guilty?” he asked, tears of laughter lining his eyes and threatening to fall. “It’s not as if you called me by the wrong name!”

“But I did!” she insisted, her blue eyes wide. “I should not have—”

“Oh, please. I would be offended if you called me something derogatory or insulting but you did not.” He patted her hand. “You called me by my name, Aislin. That’s not a crime. And besides, I like it.”

“Your name?”

He smirked. “Why? Don’t you like it when people use yours?”

She rolled her eyes. “Do you know how many times I have to correct people with the pronunciation of my name? At least you get it right that it is pronounced Ash-lin, not Ays-lin.”

“Well, Ash-lin not Ays-lin,” Avery smirked. “You didn’t answer me earlier, but that’s my fault for being too forward. But how about a walk inside the palace grounds instead of the whole city?”

***

“You can’t be wholly alright with that.”

Aelthrys, General of the Unseelie Army, or what was left of it anyway, looked up from taking a bite of cake. “With what?”

The King’s Hand eyed him shrewdly. “Your charge is out there. With him. And you are in here. With me.” He wiggled his eyebrows up and down over the silver rim of his cup. “That must not sit well with you.”

“Is she not safe here?” he returned fire, ignoring the way the Hand’s words unnecessarily lit the fuse of his fears.

Res lifted a shoulder and let it drop haphazardly. “You and I both know it’s not an issue of safety, General, but one you might have with letting your young queen out of your sight.”

“Hmm,” Aelthrys hummed in consideration.

In all fairness, he was speaking the truth. He WAS concerned about Aislin being all on her own with the King of the Seelie Fae. As a general rule of thumb, he trusted no one when it came to his cousin. He was raised to maintain a clear set of priorities and she had been on top of it ever since his parents had taken her in. Other titles and jobs might have come his way, but he never lost sight of his true purpose in life.

Which was the reason they were both here now in Seelie lands.

If his father could see them right now…

He shook his head, chuckling at the thought. Res’ cerulean blue eyes narrowed at him a little.

“I thank you for your concern, sir, but I feel rather confident that no harm shall befall my cousin so long as she stays in the company of your King.”

“Nice notion. Not at all misplaced,” he said, though his head slanted to the side. “But do forgive me if I have to ask you why.”

“Have to?” Aelthrys did his best not to snort too derisively.

The party was in full swing and the rows of tables and chairs had long been pushed to the side to make way for the dancing. The Seelie Court, in its majority, clapped as they went along with the beat of the song and laughter that enthralled them.

Distracted as they all might seem, he knew none of them missed that their king and his guest of honor was nowhere to be found, stoking the embers of gossip that fueled any court in this realm or the next.

His cake-laden fork once more in the air, Aelthrys spoke to the King’s Hand in a low voice.

“Your king is honorable and he will not risk anything that will jeopardize his reputation or his legacy as ruler of these lands. He’s said it himself: my cousin and I are no longer to be treated as prisoners. We’re guests.” He raised a matter-of-fact brow. “Tell me, Lord Hand: is the Seelie in the habit of subtly wishing harm to befall their guests?”

To his credit, Res did not flinch or rage in anger. No, he was not a character so easily riled or fazed. In fact, he quite imagined nothing much disturbing the easy-going second-in-command of the Seelie Fae. He grinned instead and raised his cup in his direction before facing the crowd. A mildly amused smile played on his lips, giving off the illusion that he was enjoying the party's atmosphere.

Aelthrys knew better.

For even as he took that bite of the richly dark chocolate cake, he, too, faced forward.

Not watching the dancing bodies or the singing or the thinly veiled carnality court parties usually descended into, but keeping an eye on the enormous double doors for his cousin’s return.