And like every other day, Nei plastered that splintering grin, making her cheeks hurt. “Of course,” she said.
His brows furrowed for a moment before he offered his arm to her, the gentleman he was dictated to be. She was grace and poise as she accepted his gesture, and in tow, they left behind her sanctuary.
Sarthaven, the Capital of Kiero, ‘the city beneath the stars’, bustled outside the towering walls, the shouts and chaos a never-ending serenade.
Nei wanted to laugh at the acclaimed name. It was far from the truth. The people here came to seek a better quality of life but found more division; while the only thing that bred here were riots and death.
Dread filled her core as they walked in silence down the winding hallway, the sunlight flickering as they passed each small window. Every footfall, every step was a reminder of what lay ahead, waiting in the shape of four council members. Nervously, she shifted her arm, trying to ease her roaring mind. At the end of the cavernous hallway, twenty steps away, an oak door gleamed, two guards stationed by it.
They wore silver shirts and pants, the material shimmering like stardust, and stood so still at first glance they could pass as statues. She caught the flicker of their empty eyes, the rise and fall of their pale skin. As they drew closer, they bowed their shaved heads, revealed two inky black sigils above their brow. Stomach dropping, a cold sweat clung to her skin as she looked at the men from the Shattered Isles - broken and made to serve a country they hated while Nei lived in luxury.
A cold fire burned in their eyes as they met her gaze, unsaid accusations burning behind their looks. Why had she agreed to this union if more men and women from the Shattered Isles were enslaved to serve the Faes? Her people were seen as savages and were treated as such in Kiero.
Slaves.
Nei’s steps faltered. Three hundred and sixty-five days of sacrificing everything she was, and this had not stopped. It was the only reason she had agreed to go through with this madness. Her people lived a content, happy life on the Shattered Isles, one where they hadn’t recognized a king in almost several decades, until the Faes and Roque’s father deemed his son the one true king.
Now, the world was divided between a tyrant and a son wanting to make his father proud. She was a pawn, a promise to her people that even though their abilities were different, they were nurtures and healers and wouldn’t be made to bow, wouldn’t be penalized. That as queen, she would break the preconceived notion that they were lesser in anyway.
And she was failing.
Nei tore her gaze from the two rovers and forced her features into a neutral expression. Roque grimly smiled down at her before pushing the door open, and they stepped in.
The room was large, a deep oak table placed in its center. The bay window behind the four figures seated encompassed the world behind them. The sun flared in the sky, bathing the bustling city in light.
Or burning it.
Nei gritted her teeth when she and Roque stopped and bowed low, their sweeping arms and submissive figures applying all the grandeur this life demanded. They rose together, and Roque gently held her hand as they walked toward the council, the vision of unity.
The council - two men and two women – were scowling. Their papery skin looking translucent in the sun, showing the map of blue veins rippling along their arms and necks. Their severe features let no emotions pass, and Nei’s gut twisted with nerves. These ancient souls in front of her dictated every move, political and personal for the royal family.
Roque squeezed her clammy hand gently, as if to say: Don’t worry, this is the best way; or don’t worry you are one of us, they can’t hurt you.
Nei sat stiffly in the chair before her, Roque following suit.
Oren, the head of the council, leaned forward, his watery eyes locking on her. “Your Highnesses, I must be blunt. We are curious as to why you called this meeting. We thought our demands were clear.”
It took all of her control not to unleash her fury right then and there. Their “demands” were for her and Roque to sit idly by while every day more of their people were slaughtered. While everyday more of her people were enslaved.
Nei slipped on that practiced mask of calm and poise, batt her eyes at Roque, smiling sweetly. Let them play me for the fool.
Leaning forward, his deep voice rumbled, “Esteemed council members, my Queen and I come to you today with a proposition. One that will only strengthen our world and help end the suffering that is evident within our society. I must be equally blunt, being a new father now has brought to light the flaws within my own father’s arrangement. I will do what is best for my daughter’s future, and my country’s.”
Nei watched Oren’s expression for any slip of his mask. The council had been Roque’s father’s private advisors, first hailing from the Arken mountains in the north. She had heard the rumors of their dark magic bewitching Camden Fae, allowing Kiero to turn its back on its people and falling into madness...
Oren scoffed. “Please, no insult intended, my King, but...”
Roque’s gaze darkened as he snapped, “You will not interrupt me, Oren. I’m your king. It’s time this council embraces the future. And I will not stand for one that’s bathed in blood.”
Roque was arrogant and entitled but maybe her pleas had gotten through to him. She had begged him endlessly, their arguments flowing late into the night. He could not turn a blind eye anymore, even though he was afraid of what the world would think and say. But here he sat, powerful and determined, and for the briefest second, admiration flared within her.
“Nei and I are ready to move
