The Fae King's Ruin

The Princess and the Agreement

Aislin’s cheeks flamed in anger and humiliation.

She could not believe how cowardly the King of Alfheim’s exit was, like he was being chased by wolves the moment the prospect of marrying her came up. Everyone saw how fast he left the hall, how ashen his face had become. She didn’t have to ask what was going through his head during that moment; she already knew.

For him, marrying her was the last thing he wanted to do. He was disgusted by it.

Her skin crawled. Her stomach turned uneasily in a way that threatened all the vases and pots along the way to her room. She’d left her cousin and everyone else in the Silver Hall, not seeing the sense of staying and enduring anything after that disrespectful display. The only reason Aelthrys wasn’t yet tearing her bedroom door from its hinges, demanding her to tell him exactly how poorly she behaved was probably because he was off doing damage control.

She wasn’t sure how effective that would be. The damage was already done.

Pacing over to her couch, she picked up a throw pillow and pressed it to her face. Then she screamed at the top of her lungs. Over and over until she could feel her throat burning.

All her work these past few weeks had just gone up in smokes. Soon, the Great Council would dissolve like bubbles in the air. All because of a single, stupid, stupid spell.

She screamed into the pillow twice more.

Dark slowly fell like a blanket over the small city of Alfheim, and even though there was undeniable beauty to be found right outside of Aislin’s windows, she hated it just a little all the same. For the lands was a representation of the King, and she hated him a whole lot right now.

A timid knock on her door rudely interrupted her marinating in some very negative thoughts indeed. It was probably Periwinkle to come and take her plate away. She hadn’t touched her dinner, had no intention to, and she felt a little punch to her gut at how she knew the little fae would be worried about her missing a meal. She muttered a soft ‘come in’, then stood abruptly, almost knocking down her goblet of wine as Avery entered the room hesitantly.

He still wore the clothes he did from when he appeared for the meeting but appeared considerably less put-together than usual. With bated breath, Aislin watched as his golden eyes first scanned her face, then to the untouched food on her desk.

“Oh, you’ve just begun,” he remarked, eyes hesitant but hopeful. “Do you mind if I have dinner with you here?”

She blinked at him, not quite understanding. She couldn’t refuse, could she? This was his home, and technically she was a prisoner-turned-guest. She had no real power here and both of them knew it. Aislin nodded, confused and reluctant, and opened her mouth to say that perhaps her desk might be an uncomfortable place for them to eat, but it seemed that he was already one step ahead.

A modest wooden table and a pair of dining chairs were brought in promptly by the staff. Maids to the king laid out a nice linen tablecloth and set the table for two before they brought in his meal. Another carafe of wine replaced the one Aislin had previously been nursing. An expensive one by the looks of it.

The moment her door closed with a quiet click, silence befell them as midnight-blue eyes locked with two golden pools of sundrops. Under her skin, electricity writhed. The air crackled with tension as the princess held her breath while the king took a step closer.

His movement… Why was he being so cautious? Aislin quickly checked herself. She might have still been glaring at him or something and she had been embarrassingly unaware. King Avery closed enough of the distance between them that she could now smell his faint scent; a woodsy, floral scent that burned into her memory.

“Your food has gone cold. Would you like me to heat it up for you?”

The question caught her so off-guard that she shook herself and begged his pardon.

A small smile caused his cheek to yield a dimple. “Your food,” he clarified. “Do you mind that it’s gone cold?”

What an odd thing to ask. “No, Your Majesty. That won’t be necessary.”

The princess picked up her goblet and her plate of food from her desk and approached the proffered chair with trepidation she kept well-hidden. This was bizarre, wasn’t it? Just a moment ago, she’d screamed herself hoarse because of what this male had done and not in a way that was even remotely enjoyable. In her mind, she’d been cursing his name left, right, front, and center, and now… Well, now she was about to have dinner with him. Dinner that she hadn’t even really planned on in the first place.

Once again because of him!

Aislin decided that he was not being fair. He was supposed to be her ally and he made her feel completely alone when he raced out of that hall. He made a fool out of her. Did he think that he could sweep all those away by having an extremely private dinner with her? What did he even hope to achieve?

Irritation began to cloud her thoughts but she knew she couldn’t let it pick up steam. As much as it pained her to admit it, she needed the king. He’s the key to her people’s freedom, provided by whatever political allowances an agreement with him could produce. She hated that tiny fact, hated it even more when all she could do was pick up her utensils and wait for him to speak.

“You haven’t done much to your room,” she heard him remark. “I apologize if I have not informed you that you can make change to the decor—”

“It’s all right, Your Majesty,” Aislin politely interrupted, her smile pinched. “The room is not mine, nor am I staying for long.”

The perpetual smile on his face fell slightly. “Whatever does that mean?”

She shrugged, cutting her chicken in precise, bite-sized pieces before slathering some white sauce with her knife. “Unless there is a way to bind the Treaty without a marriage happening between the two of us, there’s little reason for me to continue staying here. I miss my home. My people need me. There is no way I am overstaying.”

Avery ran a hand through his cropped, blond hair. Aislin kept her knife at her chicken, faltering only when he said, “And what if there would be a marriage?” Those sundrop eyes searched hers. “Between us?”

She paused, her heart thundering. Her utensils lowered to the table as she lost grip of her ire.

“Alright, now why did you really come here?” she demanded, done with playing nice. Aislin placed her hands on her lap, out of his eyesight, and touched her manacles lightly.

It was his turn to shrug, making Aislin roll her eyes before she could control it. “Well, to be honest, I did want to ask you a couple of questions.”

The absolute nerve! She scoffed a laugh. “And here I thought this was some elaborate plan for you to apologize.”

Avery’s eyes widened. “Apologize?” he echoed as if the notion had been so unexpected.

Her eyes narrowed. “The second you made sure that the spell would need us to get married, you could not run out of that room fast enough,” she said, sniffing with disdain. “So, yes, I thought this was an apology.”

He closed his eyes, leaning his head back a little with his lips pressed together in a thin line of disappointment. “Gods,” he whispered. “Aislin, I am so sorry for that. But I had a thought and I needed to see Ella—”

“The Queen of Magic?” Aislin asked in surprise before something clicked in the back of her head. “That day. She asked me if I would be willing to marry you for an alliance.”

She generally tried not to think of that fateful day, yet scenes from that specific time in her life passed through her eyes so clearly that as if it happened just yesterday. She recalled the recently released Queen, a little battered after dying and brought back alive, but her amethyst eyes never dimmed.

When Queen Ella looked at her, it was as if she saw everything inside of Aislin. And despite not being able to determine if the Queen thought she was a liar who would say anything to not suffer the same fate as her brother, she still asked whether Aislin would marry for the sake of peace.

Her answer from that day still hasn’t changed, and now that she was staring at that very real possibility…

Avery nodded, a small dip of his chin as his eyes filled with shame. “I’m sorry I ran, but I needed to ask her and see if there was an alternative for us.”

She swallowed thickly. Her hands began to shake on her lap that she clutched her table napkin and wrung the cloth.

“And?”

He sighed, and her heart fell.

“No,” he said eventually. “Not if we want the same results.”

Her stomach dropped and she was glad that she was already sitting down. She had hoped that the Queen of All Magic would have some idea or spell to help them but it seems that it was not the case.

Aislin took a long sip from her wine goblet, desperately trying to quell her racing thoughts and murmured, “You said you had questions.”

If the King looked a bit disappointed, she didn’t care. But he did nod in answer to her statement. A hundred different shades of gold swam in Avery’s eyes, like an ocher storm mixed with a dazzling sunrise. He licked his lips.

“I want to know if you can consider marrying me.” Avery leaned forward in his chair. “If you would be willing to be allies in that sense.”

“For the Treaty?” Aislin asked.

Avery smiled lopsidedly. “Sure, we can start with that.”

She frowned at him, confused by his answer, but said anyway, “Of course, I can marry you.” Aislin furiously fought to keep her blush from rising as his smile widened. “I stand by what I said before.”

He nodded, and Aislin discreetly tried to fan herself as he glanced away. “That’s a relief to hear. And I admire your commitment to your people. And the Great Council, of course.”

She could not help but smirk in wry amusement. Leaning against her chair, she jokingly said, “Does that mean we’re engaged, then?”

Avery smirked back. “It only means we are in agreement. But you should discuss it further with whatever adviser you have at the moment, as I will discuss it with mine.”

Aislin nodded. “What happens next, Your Majesty?”

He smiled. “A date.”