Pressing off the straw mat, he shook his head against a wave of dizziness. Once it passed, he climbed to his bare feet. At some point upon his arrival, he’d been stripped of his clothing and placed in simple linen garments—an oversized tunic and pants. Prisoner attire. He shuffled to the iron-bound door and held his hands through the open slat in the wood. Spelled shackles snapped in place around his wrists before hepulled his hands back and waited for the cell door to open. One guard motioned for him to come out, which he did. The remaining two guards instantly flanked him, diverting their gazes from his person while the first guard secured the cell door and motioned for them to proceed forward, taking up the space at Thaddeus’s back.
His death walk.
’Twould be over soon enough.
He held Rori close in his mind, her fire, her beauty. She alone provided him solace. She alone reminded him he would do anything for her, at any cost to himself.
The procession through the dungeon was short, as he had been placed in a high-security cell on a separate level from the main cells. A short stretch of corridor, a single flight of stairs, and another short corridor that led to a set of enormous double doors. One of the guards retracted the metal latch and opened a door to Dagda’s Court. An opulent space with a domed ceiling high overhead, massive marble columns, water features and lush foliage. The dais consumed the center of the room, and perched upon the grand marble and gold structure, the horseshoe arrangement of seats for every member of the Council, currently occupied by every High Fae.
The guards led him down the aisle to the open floor at the foot of the dais. Schooling his expression, he scanned the High Fae briefly, his gaze lingering on Shaye for a moment longer than the others, before coming to settle on Dagda.
The King of Realms. A being who may as well have been created from raw power, for ’twas raw power he exuded. A being who many could not bear to gaze upon without crying, for he was pure perfection. Eyes like the sun that blazed golden-white, a similar shade to that of his hair. Even had he not been seated on his throne, his commanding presence demanded attention and respect.
Thaddeus lowered to his knees, casting his gaze to the floor. The guards stepped back, but remained close enough should he pose a threat.
He would submit to his fate. There would be no fight.
The silence throughout the room, broken only by the trickle of water, thrummed with magic. Not a Fae spoke. Not a Fae moved. Eyes burned into the top of his head. He had been the one responsible for the chaos brought upon Faery at the hands of Daeanna. Had it not been for him neutralizing Dagda with his own dagger, he would not be here, awaiting his execution.
Rori would never have to suffer crossing his path, falling in love, only to be destined to lose the other half of her soul before she knew he existed.
Heartbeat after heartbeat. Breath after breath.
The silence stretched. Stretched until his knees began to ache from the pressure of his weight against the unyielding marble floor. Until his neck began to strain from bowing his head.
“The prisoner brought before you, King Dagda, has been found guilty of numerous incomprehensible crimes against the Tuatha de Danann people, this Council, and your person. His part in stealing Fae potion and acting against your royal decree, exiling Daeanna to the mortal realm. His assistance in returning the exiled female led to mass destruction of the Talaenian world, harm upon innocent humans, near loss of an unborn child, abduction and abuse of innocent children, further encouragement of a rebel movement, and ultimately the disabling of Your Majesty, King Dagda, during these times of great tribulation.”
Thaddeus clenched his teeth. He didn’t recognize the voice, and refrained from looking up to see who spoke.
“For the attack on the King, Thaddeus has been sentencedto death. All other crimes shall hold no sentencing at this time.”
A pulse of energy drew his head up.
Dagda stood before him. His golden gaze, filled with the molten energy of the sun, burned into him. “I held high expectations for you, Thaddeus, considering I invited your father to join my Council many times. ’Twas my hope to extend the invitation to you when you were ready. You bring great shame to your father and your family, having chosen the path of evil intent.”
Dagda’s power hummed along a frequency all its own. It lent the eloquent gold circlet he wore an ethereal glow. His fair skin bore an aura of golden energy. Everything about him bled power, for the King of Realms was the sole creature granted true immortality by the Goddess Herself, and with that gift, Her infusion of pure magic.
“What was your place among the treasonous new movement?”
“Grison saved my life to utilize my power for his own purposes,” Thaddeus answered.
“Do tell what those purposes had been.”
“Exterminate mix-blooded Fae, Seelie who engaged with mortals, and mortals who held any connection to the Fae.”
“And did you entertain such a proposal?”
He considered his answer. “I retained hesitation, choosing to do my own investigation into his motivations.”
Dagda’s eyes narrowed a fraction, but the light in his eyes intensified. “You attacked your brother under instruction from Grison.”
Thaddeus nodded once.
“My understanding is two mortal women were innocently attacked by Grison’s men. ’Tis how you, your brother, and the women ended up beneath Shaye’s roof.”
“Aye.”
A ghostly half-grin curled the corner of Dagda’s mouth. A furrow marred Thaddeus’s brow.
