The Fae King's Ruin

The First Meeting

It took four days to convene the Great Council of the Faes and, more than anything, Avery, King of the Seelie Fae, was anxious to see it unfold. He tried to convince himself that it was because the council represented something monumental, but really, he hadn’t forgotten how he basically choked in front of the Princess’ door a handful of nights ago.

But that was the past. He’d gotten up early and requested a private audience with the Queen of Magic, one of the few people he trusted more than anything. There was a lot on the line in calling the Great Council into order, and it was a feat that none of his predecessors ever attempted. He would be the first. It would be one of his legacies.

It would leave him a nervous wreck before the end of the day.

Even Ella said so when she had admitted him into her human home in Danvers, Massachusetts. Of course, the Mistress assured him everything will be fine and he was inclined to believe her. After all, she had lived far longer than even he had, and was practically a daughter to his father before he was born. And so he let himself be comforted even for a brief moment by her before returning to Alfheim.

Now, he’d dressed in a green jacket with gold stitching and embroidery, immaculately pressed black trousers, and resolutely left his sword leaning against a rack in his closet. This was a meeting to establish future relations. Bringing a sword to it would send a bad message.

Resyvlo, his Hand and most trusted advisor entered the parlor of his suite, dressed in Seelie colors like Avery. He had been his friend for as long as he could remember, raised together as boys just as their fathers had been. Now, they were both resolutely orphans but thicker than thieves. He shot Avery his signature wicked grin, his long hair the exact shade of cedarwood braided down his back and tied off with a piece of leather.

Avery noted the lack of weapons on him as well and felt a little better. “Is everyone gathered in the Silver Hall?”

“Yes, except for the princess and the general,” Resyvlo said, sitting on the arm of one of Avery’s sofas. “The uncle is there, however, as horrid as any Unseelie Fae we were taught to loathe.”

Avery gave his friend an admonishing look. “I won’t stand to hear any remarks like that from our side.”

“Of course, Majesty,” he replied with a bow before his face briefly lit up. “Oh, and Lady Tyronia is here in the stead of the late Lord Avaken.”

Lord Avaken, yet another Seelie Fae from the Unseelie uprising that was a disappointing casualty.

Avery sighed and, despite staying away from it the whole morning, opened his decanted and poured a knuckle’s worth each into two glasses. “I still think we’re too overrepresented.”

Resyvlo stood and took the glass from him. “I agree, but we also agreed that this was strategic on our end. We want to know how the princess will broach the subject.”

It was another problem, having the opposite side be represented by people whom he’d brought to his city as prisoners. He had been unsuccessful in enacting the memorandum that declared them otherwise, blocked by his own small council. They were privy to the details of the last battle, explicitly detailed by Avery to his council, which meant that they all knew of the princess’s terrible and mighty power that was kept under control with a pair of barbaric iron manacles.

That was why Princess Aislin, the half-fae, half-fallen sister of the dead King Drakos, was to be closely monitored by his own advisers. His council distrusted her.

The question was if Avery felt the same way.

If he was being completely honest, he didn’t know, and it was a terrible thing to be unsure of at the moment.

Avery knocked back his drink and gestured for Resyvlo. “Let’s go,” he said gruffly, pulling lightly at his collar.

His Hand’s cerulean eyes widened. “You don’t intend to wait until the Unseelie are complete?”

“No, I don’t need a grand entrance. Let them make it.”

Avery felt his disappointed stare but ignored him as he exited his room. The guards posted outside stood at attention and started to fall into step behind him.

The Diamond Palace was a naturally bright place and full of open spaces. Avery loved walking down its halls of opaque and naturally translucent diamonds that always bathed the palace in its kaleidoscope of colors. One could easily get lost in its halls and walkways, but Avery had been taught to look at the paintings and tapestries which had been hung for the sole purpose of indicating where a person might be.

For example, to get to the Silver Hall, one had to go left where the hall was filled with still-life paintings of gardens in soft light, cut in between two pictures with sunflowers, and take the long corridor with tapestries depicting the troll wars. Then, one would take the grand staircase before going left to follow down the portraits of past queens until one finds the ornate double doors made purely from silver.

It was confusing and rather roundabout, but Avery’s father had always said it would come in handy someday.

The attendants standing guard outside the Silver Hall knocked on their staff three times before opening the doors.

“Stand in the presence of King Avery of Alfheim, First of his name, Protector of the Folk, Key of the Realm, and the King of the Seelie Fae.”

There was a time he would have blushed at the titles that seemed to go on and on, but he had gotten used to it. The lords and ladies seated on the silver chairs placed around the circular hall stood and bowed as Avery entered and headed straight for the wood and vine, and gold and silver-wrought throne on one side of the circle.

He sat. Directly opposite him, Avery noted the smaller, but exquisitely-made iridescent black throne carved with wolf heads on the ends of either armrest and a plume of brilliant blue peacock flowers behind it in a halo was still empty.

Resyvlo caught the look he threw him and mouthed ‘three minutes’.

Three minutes until the princess and her general were late.

Everyone else sat down and the silence that followed was heavy and suffocating. Maids were going around the room already serving refreshments and food. Avery looked up at the skylight, the stained diamonds depicting a rose that bathed them all in red light.

Once, this was where his mother hosted soirees for her ladies-in-waiting. When she passed away, his father had basically left the room alone and closed off. Avery thought that putting the Silver Hall into use now, her mother’s spirit would guide him into making a good relationship with a court that had been their enemies since the dawn of time.

Speaking of enemies, Avery glanced at the old, stiff-backed, and pale fae lord sitting to the left of the black throne. His hair was the same color as he remembered the princess having but his eyes were inkier, a more fathomless black like Drakos’ had been.

Avery was searching his memory for the lord’s name, or his relation to the princess when the attendants knocked on their staff twice and opened the door.

“Presenting the Princess Aislin of Cetha, Crown Princess of the Unseelie Fae and Rightful Heir to the Adamantine Throne.”

Then the princess stepped into the light and Avery grappled to keep his pleasant smile in favor of the shock that rippled through him.

She wore a full-length gown that was modest and the color of a deep burgundy that made her skin shine like alabaster. Her hair was down and pinned with a glittering black crown that, with a jolt, Avery realized was worn previously by her brother. Her lips were painted red and black kohl made her midnight eyes seem sharper as she floated across the room to her throne.

Behind her, General Aelthrys, black-haired and silver-eyed with a ring of gold, followed in his black uniform, the same one he wore that day Avery rescued Ella from captivity.

The princess looked Avery dead in the eye as she sat, her face void of emotion. When she sat, Avery made himself smile kindly and let his gaze sweep around the room.

“Welcome to the first meeting of the Great Council of the Faes,” Avery greeted in what he hoped was a welcoming enough tone. Then his gaze rested on Princess Aislin. “May this be the start of a very fruitful relationship between our two courts.”

Even from across the room, Avery could see the princess’s mouth twitch in faint amusement. And so, the king sat and waited for the Council to unfold.

***

She hadn’t meant to arrive at the very last minute. There had been a debate between her and Aelthrys whether it was more appropriate for her to wear her brother’s gold crown or the adamantine one to the Great Council meeting. It was stupid and unimportant and one she should not have even bothered with because it was not worth having the attention of every single person in the Silver Hall on her.

The King’s being the worst of all.

He stared with those unnaturally gold eyes, tawny like a lion but… softly glowing. He was pale like all Fae were, but a golden undertone to his skin made him look like he was kissed by the sun. Or perhaps blessed by it, she supposed. Kind of ironic, really, since the Seelie worshipped the Moon Goddess.

But it didn’t explain why, despite the entire length of the room between them, she found it difficult to breathe when he was staring at her in the way that he was.

Like his focus on her was for a different reason than the others who stared at her now.

Interest, rather than disdain.

Compassion, rather than callousness.

And she could feel something more there; she couldn’t put a finger on it exactly, but it left her breathless all the same.

Aislin sat on the throne that had been brought here for her all the way from Mhoryga. Aelthrys had said that only her advisers had been allowed to go back to oversee the throne’s transportation. It hadn’t been clear if the order came directly from the King, but it was made clear that her cousin would not be one of the people making the journey back home to retrieve it.

She lifted her eyes and found the King still looking at her, still smiling. But that breathlessness was replaced by shame and a slowly burning anger that started from the pits of her soul. How could she ever think of him as fascinating or peaceable when he kept them prisoner while talking of a treaty that was supposed to unite them?

She reminded herself that until the agreement was signed, they were, for all intents and purposes, still considered as enemies.

Just as she and hers were still considered prisoners.

And so, keeping her face carefully blank aside from the cool, detached smile she’d mustered on her lips, she let the Council commence and did her best to not entertain anymore thoughts of the Seelie King.