Ep 114 | When Fae Lie
Razrael
It was easy. Too easy.
Getting Naeomi free, arresting Vesaevius.
The only wildcard left is Rima.
My intel tracked her true identity down to a lower-ranked noble family. Her real name is Vasilia.
It’s unknown when she started seeing Vesaevius and how loyal she is to him, but until she’s also in custody, I can’t relax.
A bad feeling has been haunting me, chasing through my dreams each night.
“You seem tense,” Saelah says, giving me a worried look.
She stands in the center of the dais, green light glimmering around her while she watches me pace in my study.
It’s almost as if she’s right here with me.
Almost.
There haven’t been any more attacks on the palace in the two days since I got here, and while I haven’t heard of anything suspicious around the countess’ manor in Avarel, I can’t shake that lingering bad feeling.
It feels like a storm is brewing.
I just don’t know when it will hit—or where.
“The countess says Naeomi is recovering well,” Saelah offers when I continue to pace. “She should be well enough to travel in a day or two.”
“Tell her Laziros is also healing rapidly. He keeps asking about his sister, so he’ll be glad to hear her progress is good.”
“What about you?” Saelah asks, and I stop pacing. Turning to look at her glimmering projection.
“Me?” I want to tease her, but there’s so much weighing on my mind, I can’t find the energy. “I’m fine, princess.”
The words grate against my teeth. It’s technically not a lie, but it isn’t the full truth either.
I’m physically well enough.
Just not mentally.
It doesn’t help that I was up late into the night visiting the orphanage. Several of the children have been having nightmares, and my magic is the only thing that seems to help.
It’s not unusual for the children to have nightmares. Even I’ve been struggling with sleep lately.
But multiple children every night with nightmares so severe, none of the nannies can console them?
I’m sure it’s just because of the attack on the palace.
Of course they’re scared.
But...I can’t shake the feeling that it could be something more. Something worse I just haven’t figured out yet.
“You don’t seem well,” Saelah says, frowning. Coiling a loose strand of blonde hair around one finger as she watches me pace.
“I’m just...stressed, I suppose.” I swivel, stepping step up onto the dais and taking her hands in mine, trying to push everything else out of my mind. “It’s good to see you without the glamour again, my wife.”
Now that Vesaevius is in custody, she has no more need of it, and I’m grateful to see her as she really looks.
“I do feel much more comfortable this way. But I—”
She pauses.
Blushing.
Looking away.
I wish I could feel her emotions, but they’re fuzzy and distant. “Have I embarrassed you, princess?”
“No...it’s...” When she looks at me again, her eyes are bright and full of sincerity. “It’s just that I miss you, my king.”
Now I can’t help but smile.
Forgetting everything else for a moment, I take her jaw in one hand, tilting it up. Loving the way she gasps ever-so-slightly as I let my lips graze hers.
Her emotions are so distant, fuzzy and muted through the dais. I can barely feel them at all.
Is this what it feels like to be anyone else? To be unable to read the emotions of others?
I don’t like it.
I much prefer being able to read her instantly, but I infer from her reaction that she must like what I’m doing. So I pull her closer, kissing her again. It’s not quite the same through the dais, but it’s almost as if she’s really here.
When I pull away, she asks, “I’ve been thinking. When the coronation happens...will we have to—will we have to kiss in front of everyone?”
I cough, turning away.
My face feels strangely hot all of a sudden. “What gave you that idea?”
“Well, it’s sort of like a public wedding, right? We’re already married by magic, so isn’t the point of this ceremony to show the people that we are united?”
I can see why she’d think that, and—maybe I’ve been friends with Oren too long, because I feel the sudden urge to tease her.
I turn back, smirking. “Princess. It isn’t the kissing you should be worried about. It’s the rest of the union ceremony you may want to consider.”
“U—union ceremony!?”
She’s blushing so madly now, I can feel the heat of her skin against mine as I tilt her jaw up again, kissing the edge of her lips.
Smirking wider.
This is fun.
The past two days have been filled with so much paperwork, so much to do—all without Laziros to help.
I forgot what it’s like to relax. To have fun. And it really is quite fun to mess with her.
“Yes, princess. The union ceremony is very important to the Arkasian people. You’re correct. It is on the scale of a wedding.”
I’m not lying.
But it’s not as scandalous as I’m purposefully leading her to believe. Not nearly.
It’s just a public ceremony involving magic and putting a crown on her head.
That’s all.
It’s really northing to do with being a couple.
I’ve already been crowned in my own ceremony, just by myself. It was admittedly a little nerve-wracking, standing up in front of an audience that stretched into the distance.
But that’s all.
Saelah is blushing so brightly now, I wish I could feel her emotions clearly and guess what she’s thinking.
“What is it, my princess—soon to be my queen?” I take her jaw again, kissing along the side of it, then down her neck.
“Raz—Your Majesty! Your study window is open!”
I glance back. She’s right.
“So it is,” I say, kissing her neck again.
This is fun.
Very fun.
And I can’t seem to stop this game now that I’ve started.
“After all, princess, we’ll have to do much more than this soon enough.” Is it my imagination, or has it become easier to tell half-truths through the years?
Maybe that’s the true skill of the fae: avoiding the truth without telling lies.
Or maybe—and this is a frightening thought even to me—maybe we can lie.
“You’re teasing me,” she says, and I know that’s her way of searching for the truth. I can see it in her eyes, the way she’s looking at me like she’s trying to read the words I’m not saying aloud.
And I know I should tell her the truth. The whole truth.
I should come clean right now.
But.
I feel a strange, devious desire to test how far I can push it.
Once and for all, in the most direct way possible.
“Of course, my wife. Didn’t the maidservants tell you?” I lean in close to her ear, lowering my voice to a low rasp. “We must unite our magic again, in front of everyone.”
I can barely keep a straight face.
I’m certain she must know I’m joking.
And just in case that wasn’t enough of a lie, I add, “Just like we did in bed.”
That’s it.
That was a lie.
An absolute lie.
Her eyes widen in shock, and she covers her mouth with her hands, “We have to what? In front of everyone!?”
She’s shocked, but so am I.
I lied?
“Don’t worry, princess,” I start to say. “I’m just—”
Teasing. I was going to say I was teasing, but the magic snaps out between us, throwing me backward in a flash of green light.
I slam backward into the wall, letting out a groan as I sink down to the floor.
This is what I get for testing.
Was it my lie that did it?
It must have been.
The magic of the dais couldn’t take it.
And now—I jump to my feet, stumbling back up onto the raised platform, but no matter what I do, I can’t get it to work. No magic sizzles over me.
No green light.
Not even a spark.
What...what have I done?
Mari
It’s dark by the time we reach Fort Morenne, the muddy streets dim and shadowed between the flickering, yellowed light of the lamps.
There’s a sickness to the air here, the putrid stench of sewer rising along the edge of the road as we make our way into town.
Gambling halls and taverns line the street, raucous laughter echoing out into the road as a nearby door opens and out stagger three large, burly men. One already has a black eyes.
“Stick close to me,” Oren says, sliding his arm around my waist as he steers me toward the center of the street and away from the men.
“Out on a stroll?” one of the men jeers at our back, his friends laughing like it was a funny joke.
I keep my head forward, forcing myself not to turn.
If we ignore them, they’ll leave us alone soon enough.
I hope.
We walk faster, but so do the men, until they’re keeping pace at our side.
I feel Oren tense beside me, but neither of us acknowledges them.
If we keep ignoring them, will they go away?
I hope so.
Not because I don’t think Oren can protect me.
Far from it.
I’m afraid of what might happen if he does.
“Well, ain’t you a pretty face,” says one of the thugs, reaching out as if to grab my arm.
Oren sidesteps in front of him, knocking the man out of the way.
“Consider this your only warning,” he growls, and shivers slide down my arms.
What is this feeling?
Something must be wrong with me, because I kind of like hearing him threaten those other men. I like being protected by him.
And I know I should stop him, but I don’t want to.
Not yet.
“Did you hear that?” The thug he threatened asks his buddies, and they exchange a laugh, circling us. “Looks like we’ve got to teach this little punk who’s boss around here.”
“That’s right,” says one of the other men. “No need to hog her all to yourself, boy. It’s more fun if we share.”
I lean closer to Oren, grabbing his arm. Glad at least he’s wearing his mask.
“Honey,” I whisper, because I don’t want to say his name out loud on the off chance someone recognizes it. “Please. It’s okay, let’s just go.”
But Oren isn’t listening.
“You’re giving all ruffians a bad name, you know,” he says to the men, pulling me behind him. “Don’t you have any morals?”
The men exchange glances.
“He’s nuts,” one of them says, and the others nod. Laughing.
“You’re off your rocker, kid,” the black eye man says, taking a step toward him. Slamming his fist menacingly into his palm.
The sharp shiiiing of metal rings out between buildings as the other two men unsheathe their swords.
“You think you’re some sorta vigilante hero, don’cha?” Asks the black eye man, still pounding his fists together as he circles. “Well, tonight we’re gonna show you what happens to punks like you.”
“I, for one, am very interested in seeing that,” Oren says calmly, reaching into his cloak.
I can’t see what he’s pulled out, but I hope it’s something dangerous and terrifying and imposing. The kind of weapon so big and scary, these thugs will know he means business, and they’d better skip town if they know what’s good for them.
It’ll be better that way.
Far better.
But they only laugh, exchanging a round of guffaws.
“And what are you intending to do with that, kid?”
I wince.
Oren turns, and I finally catch a glimpse of what he’s holding.
It’s...a pen.
Why a man who can’t read or write has a pen in the first place is beyond me, but that’s the weapon he’s chosen.
A plain black fountain pen.
He twirls it gracefully between his fingers, the sharp metal nip glinting in the golden lantern light.
“Alright boys,” he says, and there’s something close to glee in his voice. Something that says he’s enjoying this way too much. “Shall we see if the pen really is mightier than the sword?”
