After breakfast the next morning, the King requests my presence in the throne room. I woke up more exhausted than when I collapsed on the bed last night, the memories of all I saw haunting my dreams. I would shutter awake often, seeing the arrow in Azriel's chest, Cassian's shredded wings, both Illyrian's blood pooling around them. Even the memory of the suffocating sensations of the Cauldron pulling on my magic yanked me out of sleep.
I slowly make my way to the throne room, my feet shuffling on the floor. Nobles have now made it habit to avoid the halls on this side of the castle altogether, something that I am grateful for. I don't know how much rage I could hold in today if they whispered about me.
The grand doors open, and guests part for me to walk towards the dais. The floor has been cleaned, no remnants of the events that occurred just hours ago remain. I try not to look too long, as I can feel almost every eye on my movements. When I reach the bottom of the dais, I stop instead of taking my usual steps to the right of the throne.
For each side is taken. Jurian stands to the King's left, his arms crossed at his chest, sword tucked safely into the scabbard. His face is solemn as he scans me.
On his right stands two High Fae--Dagdan and Brannagh--his nephew and niece, both commanders within his army. They sneer at me with those same, abysmal black eyes that the King has.
"You asked for me?" I say to the King, my gaze barely roving over the others.
The King takes a deep breath before standing, his glare masked by a subtle anger. "I wanted to address your failure to comply during the events last evening," he says, his hands resting at his sides.
I match his stare, "In front of the entire court?" So many times have I witnessed a scene just like this one. Someone who has wronged the King in some way, stands before him, as he always makes it a point for the accused to restate their alleged crimes. Regardless of their story, the confession usually ends with my magic being unleashed.
I feel it answer my summons, though it comes slowly, and not nearly as strong as I would prefer.
Not that I could use it on him anyways.
He begins taking slow steps down towards me. I stand firm.
"Is there something you fear, wife?" He asks, his head cocked slightly. Another step.
In the corner of my eye, I see Jurian's hand twitch towards his sword. The silence in the room is deafening. Again, I call upon my magic, my shadows. They answer, though it is hardly a hum. No shadows swirl around me now. The King smiles wickedly.
My lips curl in disgust, "You gave me faebane?" The breakfast this morning... my handmaidens said it came from the dining hall, straight from the King's dishes. They said he was disappointed that I had not joined him.
Get out Get out Get out, the Cauldron whispers.
He stands only about a foot away now. "You disobeyed an order. There are consequences for such actions." He lifts an arm, the light catching on the piece of metal clutched in his fist. My feet finally come unglued to the floor, though they are not fast enough.
Even with the poison, I feel the Cauldron's physical pull on my body, tugging me just an inch to the right. For without it... the dagger plunges right into my chest, a hair away from my heart. I grunt in pain, my legs wobbling, ready to collapse. The King holds my chin, his fingers wrapped tightly around it, as he brings his head to my ear. "The next time you say no, I will not miss. And I will personally destroy each one of those Night Court bastards in front of you, while you bleed out," he whispers before yanking the blade away.
I fall to the ground, clutching my chest. My blood drips onto the marble floor, staining it and the memory of the Illyrians' blood as it did the same. The King walks back up the few steps before looking at me again, "You will endure the pain for your punishment." He turns to the crowd, "No healer will mend her wound." With the wave of a hand, I am hauled to my feet by two guards. I ignore all the sneering nobles as they drag me back to my chambers.
They toss me into my room and close the door. They must have been ordered to keep watch because I don't hear their fading footsteps. I stand, my legs wobbly, and blow a forced breath through gritted teeth. Tendrils of electric pain shoot across my chest as I move to the sink to clean the wound. Doing so takes almost an hour and I curse the King's name with every wince.
I vow to destroy this kingdom, to destroy the King at the first moment I am free of this bargain.
And I wish ill on all those who enjoyed the show. The Prince and Princess of Hybern. All the nobles who stood behind me, the stench of their eagerness to see me in pain filling my nose. The soldiers who stood by and watched with delight.
All of them.
The Cauldron purrs at the growing wrath inside of me.
YOU ARE READING
A Court of Desires and Darkness
FanfictionA millennium ago, the Cauldron chose Canna as its Keeper. At all times, she can feel its presence, hear its whispers. She traverses the faerie realms as a lesser fae, glamoured to appear weak with hopes of staying hidden and free from those who wish...
