Alven pours us more wine. “I don’t have any reason to. I am free. And Ciera is my daughter. You’re wrong to think I’d destroy my family. Nothing went right, that day."
I snort. I imagine not, otherwise he wouldn’t be stuck here with the rest of us.
"I never meant for Tenebris to fall. They promised to get Morgana out of the way, that's true. She refused to negotiate any trade with the west for centuries. Vikus grew tired of asking.”
Tenebris and Denarhelm both adjoin Alfheimr, though some merchants are allowed to land ships on our coasts. For generations, Alfheimr has sought our business, and for generations we’ve refused. Opening trade routes means building roads and accepting strangers into our lands, softening our borders.
“It isn't uncommon to seek your neighbor's aid to remove a monarch. I never asked for the crown. I never wished for it. I meant for it to pass to whoever among my children was deemed most worthy of it by the house of lords." He's spoken plainly enough for me to believe him, and at the mention of his children, his sorrow is plain.
"Father. How could you think they wouldn't take advantage of the situation? Sharing details of our defenses…"
"I didn't say a word about our defenses." His shoulders sagged. "Turned out, I didn't need to. For years, for decades, I don't know, they've been scouting around Tenebris. The first I heard of it was when our friend Drusk here came back wounded, warning us of a human attack. We've had a unit or two missing in the past years—five lower fae. No one pays any mind to that. The seelie archers are quick to shoot, and soldiers defect every day. They've had their eyes on us for longer than we knew. All I offered was a way into the Shadow Peak keep."
That explains why only the usurper, Kraven Vikus, and his son made it inside, while their foot soldiers remained in the city.
I nod. Alven wasn't nearly as stupid as I feared.
"You have to believe me. I never wished to kill my family."
No. Just his wife. The wife who forced herself on him, using her title to order him into a loveless match he resented.
"I don't care about any of that. No offense. I never knew any of my aunts, uncles, or cousins. If they didn't care to know me, I'm not going to start mourning them. As for Morgana, well. I get why you wanted the bitch dead." I'm perhaps a little harsher than necessary, but at least I'm honest."What matters to me is that you betrayed the high queen of Tenebris once for personal reasons. I understand why. It's still not exactly reassuring for my mother."
Ciera stands a little straighter, her eyes fixed on her father. "Yes. As you chose to align with Alfheimr, against your vows to protect our kingdom, I don't see any other choice. You must go."
I could groan. My mother is as straightforward and impulsive as ever. This revelation either hurt or frightened her, and her answer to that is to kick him out of Whitecroft. I understand it. I do. But ridding us of one of the best fighters we have at the dawn of a long-ass day seems like the worst idea since my haircut. Which is saying a lot, given the fact that I lived through a war council session. For one, she could be throwing him into his other daughter's arms. When the time comes, I'd much rather him bleed for us than for Violet.
"Or," I say, before Alven can accept his banishment, "you could offer Mother your oath."
All subjects of the high court have a vague duty to protect our kingdom. We swear to it under the moonlight at each solstice, but the wording of the chants is vague enough to allow for plenty of leeway, as Alven's treachery proved. A direct oath to the queen would allow no such thing. Alven would die should he attempt to weasel out of it.
I've not heard of one fae who gave a formal oath in my entire lifetime. Not to our high queen, not to any of the rulers of the lower courts, and not in the seelie kingdoms. To swear to obey all of the queen's commands till death means giving up one's freedom.
I half expect Alven to decline the offer and be on his way. Instead, he nods stiffly before dropping to one knee.
"I, Alven Oberon, King of the Court of Mist, son of Tenebris, swear my life to you, my daughter, Ciera Bane of House Oberon. I am yours to command, from this day until forever ends. May the stars bear witness."
I don't know whether the stars are paying attention, but I certainly am.
No one else is talking, or moving for that matter.
At least until the ungodly lament of my stomach breaks through the silence. I wince. "In my defense, I haven't eaten in ten years."
Starved
Vlari
Ieat as much as I possibly can, so fast I feel sick. I have to force food in, washing it down with wine. When I cannot stand any more, I find room for a custard torte anyway. I’ve never enjoyed food as much as I do on my first night back from the realm of sleep.
Ten years. I can’t even begin to imagine what things might be like for the cursed prince of the wilderness, after a thousand years. With some luck, the poor fool is passed out, or dead.
I lie back on my chaise, too exhausted to even think about dragging myself all the way to my bed—some ten paces away.
Drusk, leaning against the wall in front of me, smiles in a way that's far too mocking for my liking.
"Not a word."
His grin broadens, but he remains silent, staring me down.
