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“I’m not asking,” my king says.
“You’re not my king.”
“Yet, you won’t refuse. When D’Artaron returns to his duties in my court, if there isn’t anyone as strong or as respected in the military as him, the guards will turn on her. The people might revolt if that happens, and the next thing you know, D’Artaron will return with an invading army. If only to keep the Unseelie from taking advantage of our chaos.”
“Why haven’t you trained someone else already?” Alestho asks me.
“I was bird-watching,” I bite out.
Alestho fists his hands.
I would love nothing more than to brawl with him. He makes an excellent opponent. Butterflies dance in my belly, and I smile, probably looking more deranged than I’d like to admit. “Do it.”
Alestho steps forward, but my king slaps a palm on his chest. “You will have plenty of opportunity to spar with my commander. Now would be a bad time, since your sister is walking this way. Here’s what will happen. When D’Artaron deems you ready, he’ll retire as your sister’s blade. He’ll also name you the captain of the guard.”
“What if I refuse?”
King Et’enne’s smile also looks deranged. “My wife sent you here. Shall I ask her to visit you again? Perhaps with her sister, the one who sees all that will come to pass. Do you want to hear your future if you disobey my June? Hm?” My king narrows his eyes, and his unpleasant voca magic slithers inside my head. It feels like a worm is crawling into my ear canal. Of the three siblings’ magic, his is the nastiest.
“You don’t want to leave the vineyard because you think you can’t defend anyone. Chloe is not Sierra. Sierra was too sick to survive. She would have died anyway.”
Alestho steps back. “How can you know that?”
“Never mind how I know it.”
“Even if that weren’t true, and it’s not, what of my vineyard?”
I interrupt. “Your sister is a master gatekeeper. She can construct a gate that will take you to your vineyard. Because it’s a gate and not a portal, she can design it so that only you can use it.”
“My sister doesn’t have enough training to keep a portal open before destroying the things around it, so those are all empty promises.”
I remove my glove and show him my palm. “We share magic, and I have trained hers. My work is failproof.”
“You asshole,” Alestho spats. “You took her magic. I should kill you where you stand.”
“I built safeguards for her magic. I trained it for her so that when she’s queen, she can use it both in defense and offense. That’s more than you or anyone else has ever done for her. Fuck you and your showing up here on your high horse.”
Alestho pulls back his fist.
I assume my fighting stance. “Bring it.”
“The queen is approaching,” King Et’enne says. “Smile like you do when you see a newborn, or I’ll make you smile.”
Alestho and I stand chest to chest, his horns slowly rising from his head.
Suddenly, he steps away and smiles at his sister, sniffing.
I hand him a handkerchief to wipe the drop of blood coming from his nose. My king’s mental attacks occasionally cause bleeding. I’ve observed it happen often with strong-minded people who resist the invasion.
The Spring queen, surrounded by seven guards, strolls down the path toward us, her gaze on the ground. When she looks up and sees us, particularly her brother, she picks up her pace. But that’s not fast enough. She grabs her lavish skirts and sprints toward him, squealing with joy before throwing herself at him.
“Queens don’t run,” my king grumbles.
“Or squeal,” I add.
“You love her wide-eyed innocence.”
I whip my head at him. “Bite your tongue.”
