The Fae King's Ruin

The King and the Dismissal

The next day was an absolute mess for the Seelie King.

Avery wished he could say that his folk handled let-downs and change well, except when notices on the upcoming changes to the Great Council were sent out, he had been assaulted by a barrage of demands for an audience by those dismissed from their posts.

He’d done it. He made good on the promise he’d given Princess Aislin last night and was now suffering for the good deed.

Not that he minded. No, not in the least. After all, this was exactly how he pictured things would go.

They had anticipated that the Unseelie, either through the General or the Princess or their uncle, would fight for more seats on the Council and merely wanted to see how they would play for it. So he had placeholders warm those seats with lords and courtiers that weren’t too terrible but not too valuable either. He supposed he was a right bastard for playing their ambitions in that way, but he’d long been taught that such was the game of politics.

Though he wasn’t without a conscience. Avery dedicated the entire day to hearing motions and pleas of the dismissed members of the Great Council. All demanded an explanation from him. He did his best to satisfy.

Even if there really wasn’t anything else to say other than “Thank you for your service. We will see if we can make a delegation for you elsewhere.”

Ruling was a brutal job and the King of the Seelie Fae had no illusions about it whatsoever.

He was starving by the time Lord Wyrst exited his office huffing and puffing like a wolf. There was a plate of cold sandwiches that his maid left out for him on his desk earlier, but he didn’t think it was appropriate to eat in front of someone appealing for their job back. He ate them now, scarfing each one down in a matter of seconds. All the sandwiches did was stoke the fire of his hunger, however, not satiate it.

Avery put his boots back on, the only comfort he could afford since his visitors couldn’t see them under his desk, and thought about seeing what the rest of the palace was having at the Grand Hall.

Bogged and exhausted, he traversed the rest of the way lost in thought and merely half-aware of his surroundings. His limbs knew every part of his home by heart, anyway; there was no need for him to pay much attention to where he was going. If anybody called on him, he didn’t hear— nor particularly care. Everyone could just take a hint.

That trance, however, broke when out of the haze of his mind, he spotted a familiar presence with midnight-sky eyes, hair as pale as silvery moonlight, grace like a swan, and upturned lips that continued to stretch into a smile, then a laugh.

Escorted by her maids, Avery watched as Princess Aislin spoke with her maids, heads together like a quartet of conspiratorial court ladies speaking just loud enough so they heard each other. It made him smile.

Of course, she would find a way to befriend the help, even if he chose the three girls with that very hope in mind.

He watched them until his presence was made known to them. Their small, oddly enchanting party paused almost completely on the other side of the corridor. Deciding to close the distance, he took one measured step after another. He bowed when he was directly in front of them.

The Princess took one long look at him with those deep blue eyes and smiled sympathetically.

“Rough day, Majesty?”

Was it that obvious? He ran a hand through his hair, chuckling. “Oh, on the contrary, everything has been light and breezy,” he replied cheekily.

Aislin’s smile widened, and once again he was struck by how genuine her smile seemed now. Unrestrained. Her soft pink lips pursed first every time she smiled at him before curving at the corners shyly and mischievously at the same time.

And her eyes… Avery did not expect them to be so telling when she wanted them to be.

Her small hands clasped in front of her as she resumed her walk, her maids making themselves scarce. He followed dutifully, falling into step beside her.

“I had the fortune of getting to know one of my neighbors this morning,” she said, her tone deceptively conversational as they took the stairs.

Avery made a polite, inquiring sound at the back of his throat.

“Mhmm. One, I found out, was a member of our illustrious Great Council.” Aislin gave him a sideways glance. “Oh, and the walls are surprisingly thin. I had no problem hearing him air out his anger.”

“Oh, gods.”

They stopped at an alcove near the Grand Hall. Avery, with shame written all over his face, closed his eyes briefly before holding his hands out. Soft hands brought them back down to his sides.

Princess Aislin angled her head towards him. “It’s fine,” she said softly. “We expected this, or at least I did. Frankly—” She shrugged. “—I don’t care. We are rulers of powerful Fae courts; there are more important things for us to worry about.”

The sheer nerve in her words sparked something within him, mingling with the surprise that he felt. He reared his head back, trying to get a better look at her under the soft light of the Faelights above the vaulted ceiling of the alcove.

“You surprise me at every turn.” His eyes flicked to the slightly ajar doors of the Grand Hall. “Will you eat dinner with me?”

She pointed to the doors. “You want to go back in there? Just the two of us?”

“Is there anything wrong with that?” he asked. But even as he did, he realized why she might be apprehensive of subjecting herself once more to the sharks of his court. “Alright. Not in there, then. We’ll have dinner in my private quarters and talk about these important matters you speak of.”

His offer was met with wide eyes and a silence that made cold sweat break out across his back. Aislin’s pursed lips were the first telltale signs that told him he’d overreached.

“I must decline your offer tonight, Your Majesty, not to offend you, but to simply find my, er, own footing in this court.”

“And you think that the best way to do that is to start coming to dinner?” He couldn’t help but let his own doubts show.

“Yes,” she declared with confidence.

He frowned. “If that’s what you want…” Avery trailed off, hoping she’d reconsider. The princess only nodded then, with a flawless curtsy her maids echoed, went on their way.

Turning on his heels, he watched them make the rest of the way to the Grand Hall and enter, the footman announcing Aislin and her appropriate title. Back turned to him, he wondered if the general had been informed of his cousin’s decision to take matters into her own hands regarding her future at court.

Granted it was his court, but still…

After today and the ‘remarks’ she’d heard one of his courtiers make, it ought to have deterred her, or at least he thought it would have. But like her words, she seemed awfully unbothered by what people thought of her. Likely, none of his people’s opinions regarding the situation mattered much to her.

He liked that she was fearless and determined. He only worried that—

No, he thought, shaking his head. It was not his place to worry about the princess any more than he already had.

“Uh, what are you doing here?”

Avery whirled, almost tripping over the carpets, and glared at Res. “Me? This is my home. What are you doing here? Aren’t you supposed to be somewhere in Belize?” At least that was what he thought he was doing the whole day, given that he’d been missing.

Res gave him an odd look. “You have forgotten that I rescheduled that trip for after the Great Council meeting tomorrow and I had matters you had me attend to at a backwater Seelie village.” Cerulean eyes darted to the entryway of the Grand Hall. “Were you just about to eat?”

“Yes, I was.”

“Good,” he replied, taking off his gloves. “I’m famished. While we eat I can give you the report—”

“No, no,” Avery took him by the lapels of his jacket and started dragging him away. “You’ll give the report in my chambers. We’ll have food sent up there.”

“What? But I thought—” He cut himself off, studying him more critically. “Why are you acting so strangely? Aislin’s in there, isn’t she? That’s what got you tucking tail and running.”

“No,” he lied. “And will you stop harassing me about her? You are being much too obvious about what you’re thinking.”

“And that is?”

“Screw you, Resyvlo.”

Res’ answering laugh was heavy with teasing, making Avery scowl deeper. “Sorry, Majesty, you aren’t my type. But please, do show me more of that deliciously guilty behavior you are exhibiting.”

Avery speed-walked all the way to the floor reserved for the royal family, up to his door, and threw it open before flicking his wrist. A gust of wind entered through his parlor’s open window, trying to shut the door in Res’ face, but the bastard had stuck his foot in the opening and banished the wind away with half a thought.

“Mmm, how petty. It suits you, oddly enough.”

He slumped on one of the many couches littered about the room and toed off his shoes. A maid immediately swooped in to put them away, and after asking for dinner, Avery told her to take the rest of the evening off. The clinking of glasses ensued around the room briefly before Res turned to give Avery a glass of scotch. He took it and drank deeply, draining all of its contents before sighing.

It had been a terribly long day. There was nothing else he wanted more than to rest, only to do it all over again tomorrow. Perhaps there was indeed no rest for the wicked, and after speaking to rightly pissed-off members of his court, he truly felt the part. He kept telling himself that there’d been no easy way around it, that the benefits far outweighed the cost, but was it really the truth? Had his decisions been too rushed?

Maybe he’ll see tomorrow at the meeting. He only hoped that the princess and her general had taken painstaking care in choosing their delegates. With them on the playing field, perhaps they’d be able to find an answer to something that had been plaguing him ever since this all started.

“I have a problem,” Avery murmured, staring at his ceiling.

A clinking of ice on glass. “A problem, eh? Let’s hear it then.”

He shook his head. “I don’t want to say it out loud. I’m still hoping it won’t happen.”

“What will? Stop speaking in fu*cking riddles.”

“The Treaty, Res,” he snapped. “It’s about the gods-damned Treaty.”

The King’s Hand prodded him, but Avery would not say any more. He probably should not have been so superstitious but he remembered how his mother always would stick to one for a given scenario and somehow, things would end up just right for her.

For example, his mother never closes any door in the palace when it is a full moon. Some ancestor of hers said that the Goddess of the Moon, Mother of all Seelie, blessed the people who opened gateways for her to roam to. His father would usually have one night a month where he would stay vigil up on the palace turret to look for any possible attack. He would have stopped it all if not for how bountiful harvests would be after the full moon, how sicknesses would be healed in the villages, and babes would be born without any of the hardships typical of fae births.

And so he would stick with this one. He would keep mum about what he was dreading might happen if only to keep it from actually happening. He prayed it wouldn’t. He wasn’t ready for his life to be uprooted in such a way.

Yet Avery knew that no matter how hard he prayed, his fate would always find him.