The Fae King's Ruin

Test Me

“Don’t look at me like that,” the Crown Princess of the Unseelie Court snapped as stalked unaffectedly inside Aelthrys’ infamous war room. 

Its red walls and black floors did not help her mood— it never usually did whenever she had to come in here in the past— but it did fuel her anger just in case this conversation would lead to a fight, which it undoubtedly would. She knew by the glare in his sharp eyes that he was composing a list of a few hundred things that he could blame her with and a thousand more offenses that her mere presence had invoked.

Like a bull in a pen, he paced the length of the room. If she was not so pissed off with the way he was acting, she would have laughed at how mad he looked. His cheeks had more of its unusually golden hue to it, a peculiarity of his that was not much explored. His silver hair, usually kept tidy, was in disarray from being brushed through repeatedly with his hand. Aelthrys was very much the perfect example of a male incensed, and somewhere in the pits of Aislin’s consciousness where her sense of humor was stowed away, she was amused by him.

Aislin turned her attention away from her cousin. She examined the walls instead. She hated that they were red, even if the detailed maps and the ancient weapons perched on display did make them somewhat more tolerable to look at. The Duchess had quite agreed when she was alive that the red walls and facade of the manor should be changed to much more suitable colors. 

Only the Duke and Aelthrys did not agree to such a change. They meant the manor to be a symbol of power; a fortress unbreakable and meant to instill intimidation even from afar. The manor was supposed to look the way it did now, and apparently, so did its interior. Aislin made a moue of distaste.

“You,” Aelthrys all but growled. It was a snarl that made lesser beings cower and run away with their tails tucked in between their legs.

And so it was lucky that Aislin was not made of weak material. She flicked a brow up in silent demand, one that had a vein popping in his temple. 

“Me, what?”

His eyes narrowed. “Do. Not. Test. Me.”

Aislin tipped the corners of her mouth up in a sardonic smile. “I am not testing you. Quite the opposite, in fact, for my presence here clearly implies that I am here to help you.”

“Help me,” he deadpanned, before exploding. “HELP ME? Aislin, may I remind you that this entire province is a warzone thanks to these rebels? Rebels whom, I might add, would very much love to place your head upon a spike, perched on our very gates!”

“Oh, you overestimate them—”

“No, you underestimate them!” he roared at the top of his lungs. “One single, well-aimed bullet is all it would take to kill you on the spot, Aislin, and then this whole damn thing would collapse all around us. The court, the people’s safety, the ties with the Unseelie court— all gone!”

She stood indignantly. “Not gone, Aelthrys! You! You will still be here when I die.” She kicked her skirts out of her way. “But as such, there are no windows in this room for me to be seen through— much less be shot at— so the crown and I will be safe for now. That ensured, I will not sit idly by while the war you speak off is ravaging my own hometown. Tell me what is happening! Put me to work!”

Aislin tried to keep her voice even throughout, but her frustration with him got the better of her, and ended up shouting just as well as he did. She blew out a tired exhale and sat back down, feeling half of the fight she felt burning in her veins diminish to a smolder. She looked to Aelthrys, saw the way he still mulishly had his back turned to her as he hunched over the table full of what she assumed were battle plans.

And then she saw how his shoulders slowly, incrementally relaxed from its tense position before he held his hand up and waved her over. She stood. With light, unsure feet, she made her way to him and peered down at the map of Cetha that was as wide as the table it laid upon.

Aelthrys, with his mouth set in a tight line, traced the entire southern expanse a mere hundred kilometers from where they were now. “Everything in this territory here is controlled by the rebels. They are pushing on our flanks as we speak, but our forces still maintain our position. Supplies are en route and I have already ordered the fleet to be mobilized to cut off any shipments or channels that they are using for their own. We will hug the entire southern bay area if we have to, try to pinch them from all sides.”

Aislin’s stomach twisted sickeningly. The situation was much worse than Aelthrys had let on originally. The rebels had already taken a big chunk of Cetha and the three other provinces south of them. They could not afford to let them gain an inch more than what they already got.

“How about the civilians?” she murmured against her fears. 

“Some have managed to evacuate their homes, but their numbers do not even account for half of the actual population.” He shook his head. “I am only left to assume that they made it out on the boats, have been taken as prisoners, or dead.”

She pushed herself off of the table and put a hand over her forehead, feeling hot to her own touch. “Why do they still fight?” she asked no one in particular. “My brother is dead— the one they truly oppose is gone! Why do they still not stop?”

Silver eyes turned to her fully and Aislin felt the weight of his stare like an anchor. “Aislin, they have not seen you. They do not know you.” He straightened. “You came to power in captivity. The only news that reaches them can be warped and bent as all news are when passed through the grapevine. And with your alliance with the Seelie Court, who knows?”

Her heart made a pause. “Are they against it?” she whispered. “Do you think they resent me for it?”

He glanced at her disappointedly. “It does not matter, Aislin. These people have destroyed homes, taken over cities, and killed people. All they want is justice that is on their terms, not what is right.”

Aislin pursed her lips. “Then we must hasten,” she said decidedly, though not finding any pleasure in it at all. She looked up. “This needs to be finished in five days… when the King comes.”

Aelthrys stared at her before a sharp exhale passed his lips.