Page 40 of Fate of the Sun King

I’ll get my bearings. Check things out and decide if there’s anything to worry about. Maybe I’ll return with Nadir, though the notion of him surrounded by these stunning, barely clothed Fae sits in my stomach like a rock.

Maybe Mael or Tristan then.

“Of course,” she says. “Melianne will show you to a table.”

She gestures to a High Fae with long red hair wearing another sheer white dress that hardly seems worth wearing at all. I nod as I follow her down a hall lined with intricate paintings of men and women engaged in various compromising positions. They’re beautifully done, and it’s hard not to admire the skill that went into creating them.

We emerge into a large, high-ceilinged room that looks like a conservatory with its tall windows, greenery, and colorful flowers perfuming the air. There’s a sunken pool in the center where several nude men and women frolic in the water. They’re accompanied by what I assume are other patrons, most simply watching with drinks perched in their hands.

Plush benches tucked away in corners cradle couples, trios, and various groups who talk softly with gentle touches and suggestive looks.

Melianne leads me down a few steps to a velvet settee, gesturing for me to sit. Almost immediately, another woman approaches.

“Can I get you a drink?” she asks in a sweet voice that sounds like crystal bells. “Perhaps a glass of sparkling wine?”

“Sure,” I say, “thank you.”

She pulls out a card and lays it on the table. I can see it’s a list of offerings. Spankings and whippings. Chains and canes and ropes. Degradation and praise, and some things I’m not even sure how to imagine. My thoughts can’t help but wander to Nadir and the idea of exploring some of these activities with him. I’m still a little miffed I didn’t get to see what he claimed he could do with his magic. But I really shouldn’t be entertaining these thoughts.

The woman returns with my drink and sets it on the table with a smile before she walks away with her hips swaying. My gaze wanders around the room, and I try not to stare, but it’s hard to ignore what’s happening around me.

The longer I sit, the more foolish I feel. What was I thinking?

I should go. This was stupid.

But that’s when I spot her.

She’s talking with someone across the room, and I’m instantly on my feet, making my way closer, her back facing me. I don’t have a plan, but I stop just as she finishes her conversation and turns around. She startles when she sees me, a hand going to her chest.

“Oh! You surprised me,” she says before her brow pinches together. “Can I help you?”

I blink because I was wrong. Now that she’s standing in front of me, I can see that while she bears a striking resemblance to that woman from all those years ago, this woman is different. Her nose is longer, and her eyes are a different color. Gods, I’m so stupid.

“No,” I say, shaking my head as her gaze travels up and down. “I’m sorry. I just thought…” I trail off. “Sorry to have bothered you.”

Before she can stop me, I spin on my heel and leave.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

KING HAWTHORNE

THE WOODLANDS: THE FIRST AGE OF OURANOS

The creak of branches dragged King Hawthorne’s eyes upward to the snarled tangle that had grown so thick it nearly blotted out the light. Decay crunched under his heavy boots as he stalked through the forest with his sword angled over a broad shoulder. His nostrils flared in agitation. The taint on the wind was unmistakable and foretold of wicked things arriving on the breeze.

It had been another day and another endless list of reports about the forest behaving erratically. At first, it had been benign events, nothing to be overly alarmed about. A tree falling unexpectedly. The fruit from another suddenly dropping well ahead of the harvest. It was easy to dismiss them as mere anomalies of forest life. These trees weren’t inanimate. They’d always had a sentience. They’d always had eyes. One had to expect they’d act out from time to time.

But things had shifted quickly, morphing from harmless to deadly. Missing children dragged from their beds at night by thorny vines. Holes unexpectedly opening in the middle of a worn path used safely a thousand times before, swallowing entire families up.

“Your Majesty,” came a voice from behind, and he turned to find one of his soldiers approaching. “I found another one.”

Suspended in the soldier’s arms was a body. Hawthorne thought it might have been female, but it was hard to tell anymore. She’d been “infected,” for lack of any better term to describe what was plaguing the forest. Her body had twisted like the trunk of an ancient tree, leaves and branches sprouting from her eyes and mouth and nose. The effect was grotesque, and he resisted the overwhelming urge to look away. These were his people, and they were dying at an alarming rate.

He had to be the one to look. Had to be the one to bear final witness to the life they’d given to this… monstrosity.

“Put her with the others,” he said. “We’ll bury them all, as is their due.”

The soldier nodded and then walked away, disappearing into the trees.