The Fae King's Ruin

The King's Scribe

It took both Aislin and Avery a few weeks to get into the rhythm of things. Changing the world, as it turned out, was not going to be all that easy.

A lot of sleepless nights were involved, meetings on top of meetings, and a whole lot of compromise was needed to be able to reach just one draft of the Treaty that would hopefully unite the Unseelie and Seelie courts permanently, but all that was to be expected.

He liked the hard work that came with the endeavor. He liked the long nights and the long conversations. He liked being surrounded by people who had a different upbringing than him. This was what it must have felt like before the Fae Courts split for good. He relished that; marveled at the feeling even more when they found their harmony.

At first, he did worry about everyone else’s commitment to the success of the Treaty. Most of all about Aislin’s commitment to it. And yet…

Yet each time, the Princess would surpass his expectations. She would work harder than the rest of them combined, have a fresh perspective ready at the snap of a finger, and was unafraid to offer even the most unpopular opinions. It made working with her easier than breathing. Refreshing, even.

She never faltered, never wavered, and he found a new sense of respect and admiration for the young monarch.

Avery hurried his steps along the corridor. He was running late after his last engagement ran long. Today’s meeting was important enough that he regretted not rescheduling, and he didn’t want to miss any more than he already had.

Because of his tardiness, it had been up to Princess Aislin to take over the proceedings. He entered the Silver Hall, nodding to the guards right outside the doors, and immediately saw her up on her throne.

And maybe it was because he’d gotten so used to her infallible poker face that it took him a second to realize that the room was silent.

Too silent.

He paused right in the middle of the circle, eyes darting from the princess to the pale-faced scribe to Res, sitting as still as he’d ever seen him. None paid him any mind, however.

No. Everyone, it seemed, was staring at the Princess.

She had gone ashen, far whiter than her normal color, and her eyes held a stricken quality to them. Avery read her body language like a book that played out before him, scouring and turning over every minute detail. He did not want to jump to any conclusions, but he knew something had gone terribly wrong.

“What is it?” he demanded, his golden gaze sweeping around the room but no one seemed to be willing enough to answer him. “Have you all gone suddenly mute?”

“Your Majesty.”

Avery turned to Aislin, who had uttered the softly-spoken words. “Princess Aislin, would you please enlighten me as to why this Council seems to have gone to a standstill?”

He tried not to be bothered by the haunted shadow that briefly crossed over the Princess’s face. “I don’t think even I fully understand well enough to tell you,” she said in that same quiet voice.

Res’ eyes snapped to him, flicking to his vacant seat, seeming to tell him ‘Sit, i***t’. Avery stayed where he was, feeling his anger rise. He did his best to control himself, but his patience was wearing thin.

He was just about to yell for people to speak up when Aelthrys stood from his seat. Quicksilver eyes as unreadable as Aislin’s bland expression offered no comfort, even less when the words finally came.

A pale hand gestured to the still-trembling scribe. “The spell we want to use for binding the parties of the Treaty won’t work,” he said simply. “Apparently, in all of our people’s histories, no equal male and female had ever submitted to it. Only males have partaken in it.”

Avery raised a brow. That didn’t seem right. The Fae have been around for millennia, their histories were as old as the earth itself. Although their social structures were mostly patriarchal in nature, surely they weren’t telling him that their archivists couldn’t find a single precedent.

The scribe handed him a scroll of parchment, her emerald green robes matching the color of her nervous eyes. “We tracked the origin of the spell all the way to the land of the Elders, Your Majesty, from both branches of Fae lines. It is all true.” She swallowed audibly, peeking up from her dark lashes. “Historically, only males took the bond so they may seal it in blood.”

“Turns out,” Aislin said tightly, her voice carrying through the room without raising it, “the splitting of the Fae Courts involved the same spell— to ensure true independence from each other.”

“And to break it, the sovereigns from both Courts must share the blood of the covenant.” Res eyed him. “Ideally.”

Avery clutched the parchment still in his hand, feeling sick. “What do you mean by that?”

The princess finally stood, both hands clutching each other in front of her. A show of calm, he realized, when she was anything but.

“It means that between two male sovereigns, the bond and spell can be done with no problems with the blood covenant.” Midnight blue eyes hardened as she continued, “But between a male and a female sovereign, it requires marriage to fuse the two bloodlines, thus sealing the Treaty when an heir to the once-separate courts is born.”

Marriage.

Heir.

Avery closed his eyes. Fu*cking Treaty.

He wished he could say he was surprised. He’d known that fate would find him somehow; had felt it in his bones that circumstances would have him end up on the verge of marriage. After all, how many days did it keep him lying awake at night? Now, the asking price for his legacy, for lasting peace, was… him.

He locked his muscles in place as he felt all his energy drain from underneath him, as his entire world stood still, then spun once more with no intention of letting him catch his own breath.

Because that was exactly what it felt like to have the proverbial ‘other shoe’ to finally drop. He looked up to look at his best friend, the realization of what he’d been trying to say weeks ago coming a little too late for him.

“Do we—” He cleared his throat, avoiding the princess’ entirely too-calm expression that was putting him to shame. “Do we have alternatives in mind?”

The scribe blinked, then said slowly, “We have already looked, Majesty. This is the strongest, most absolute binding spell in the annals of our archives. Of course, there are other non-fae specific literature we can consult—”

“We’ve agreed that the spell needs to target us exactly,” Res drawled, rubbing a hand over his jaw. “Witch spells do not work as well as intended when the Fae are involved. Same goes for other kinds of magic apart from ours.”

“Why don’t we explore this option of marriage?” asked one of the Seelie delegates, a lord that had once been in Avery’s father’s own council. His hawk-like eyes slid over to the princess and her general. “Unless there are betrothal arrangements already in place that would pose a problem.”

General Aelthrys glared icy daggers at him. “There are no problems on our end but thank you very much for your concern.”

Well, at least they had no problems on that part.

Avery rubbed a hand down his face. The rest of the Great Council began discussing the possibility of an Unseelie and Seelie union, the whole thing descending into the kind of chaos that plagued his nightmares. The Great Council spiraled into a debate about whether they expend more effort on research for other options or immediately amend the Treaty to appease marriage and heirs. He should probably have been listening and weighing in on the conversations but he could not. He was still trying not to look at this like it was the end of his freedom.

He was trying not to doom himself into resignation.

“But isn’t it asking too much?” Avery heard the General argue. “Princess Aislin is young and she—”

“—will fulfill her duty to her people,” Lord Elrin, sitting at the farthest seat possible from both cousins, interrupted. Even Avery’s head snapped up at his words. His dark, pitless eyes pinned on the Princess sitting on the throne. “If duty requires her to marry the King of the Seelie Fae to achieve the peace she so dearly wants for her people, then marry she shall.”

Every pair of eyes fell on Princess Aislin either in expectation or pity. Her expression hadn’t changed, every emotion carefully tucked under that exquisite mask. It unnerved him how her midnight blue eyes slid over from her cousin to her uncle— to have been able to witness clearly how a fire instantly lit behind them.

Like she was imagining burning him alive.

Bumps rose across his flesh, remembering the cosmic power he knew was simply being restrained by a pair of awful iron bracelets.

“Hold on, Lord Elrin,” Res politely interjected. “The Princess is still a person underneath that crown. She has a say in this as well since this is her future.”

Lord Elrin raised a brow. “Her future, as I am sure is the same case for your King, is very much tied to her crown, to her own people.”

“Nevertheless, she has a say,” Avery said, tone final and simple, nodding not to the Princess but to the General. “We both deserve to exhaust all options before agreeing to something of this magnitude.” He turned to the scribe. “Continue your research and look for any other alternative that will give the same result. The binding spell for the Treaty must be strong and subject to no weakness.”

He must leave. He needed to leave and find another way himself. Aislin’s eyes dropped to his and she nodded, somehow understanding the need herself.

“This session is adjourned,” she said. “Everyone is dismissed and shall be notified of the next meeting.”

Avery turned from the room and ran like a bat out of hell to get to the bridge that separated the palace and the Lake of Memories from the Village. He flew past guards and courtiers without acknowledgment, dodging even his personal security who had been racing to get to him.

In his head, nothing mattered but only one goal. As soon as he stepped onto the bridge, he pulled open a portal with an outstretched hand and practically leaped into the white, high-ceilinged living room where the smell of butter overpowered almost everything else.

From the kitchen Ella whirled and already had her hands held out, ready to dismember him at a second’s notice. What Avery did not really expect, however, was a hundred-eighty-seven pound male to jump at him from the side and tackle him to the ground.

Avery groaned at the impact, his entire right side flaring in pain. “What the—? Is this how you greet visitors in your home now?”

“Avery?” Lorenzo asked from above him. Gray eyes blinked at him in surprise. “What are you doing here?”

“Oh, dear. Darling, why don’t you get off of him so he can explain?” Ella coaxed.

Laurie jumped to his feet with no problem and pulled Avery up in the next movement. Avery moved his head around, groaning a bit, and once again thanking his lucky stars that he healed fast.

“Some greeting you got there,” he muttered before turning to Ella. “I need to talk to you.”

Ella blinked at him with those purple eyes the exact same shade as amethysts, boring deep as if she could see all the way into his inner being. He wondered if she could actually see something that profound every time she looked into someone’s eyes. Ella was older than him, almost closer to the age of his father, but being the Queen of the entire magical race must mean something in the way she viewed certain things.

Suddenly feeling self-conscious, Avery shuttered in and cleared his throat at the awkwardness.

She nodded. “Very well. Lorenzo, don’t burn the popcorn please, we will not be long.”

Laurie scoffed, kissing her lovingly on the temple. “Me? Burn food? That’s your MO, love. Have a nice chat, you two.”

Amethyst-colored eyes pinned him down again. “Xaero’s office is over here. Follow me.”