Page 6 of Fate of the Sun King

Still gazing into the depth of my glass, I mumble, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He scoffs and then bends down so his mouth is next to my ear.

“Nice try, Tribute. What are you doing here?”

Finally, I glare at him. “Shhh. Keep your voice down.”

He rolls his eyes and straightens up as I look away. While I continue staring into my glass with my shoulders hunched, hoping no one has noticed, I hear him ordering a drink for himself and another for me. A moment later, two more glasses thunk onto the counter.

We drink in silence. Nadir’s eyes burn me from the other side of the room, and he’s probably less than a second away from storming his royal Fae ass over.

“You going to talk soon?” Callias asks casually as he turns around to face the room and leans against the bar. He’s just far enough away that anyone watching might not immediately pick up on the fact that he’s addressing me. “Or should I go outside and get Gabriel?”

“What?” I ask, and then press my mouth shut. Shit. Gabriel is here, too?

“That got your attention,” Callias says with a smirk.

“He’s here? Why? Why are you here?”

“I saw him wandering around. He’s hard to miss, with the wings and all. And can’t a Fae come to The Umbra for a drink on his day off? It’s very fashionable to do so, you know.”

“Is it? Coming to slum it with the persecuted? How very… classy,” I say, and Callias smiles.

“I’ve missed that attitude, Final Tribute. Where have you been?”

My gaze flickers across the room. Nadir is now sitting forward, watching me and Callias with all the intensity of a falcon stalking a mouse from the sky. I give him a pointed look that I hope sends the message that he’s to stay where he is. Not that I really expect him to do anything I say.

Tristan is looking over as well, a line forming between his brows. He exchanges a look with Nadir in a rare show of camaraderie. I need to get all of us out of here.

“Doesn’t matter,” I say, pushing myself from the bar and hiking my collar around my neck. “Please forget you saw me.”

It’s not like Callias owes me anything, but we bonded during the Trials, and I’m hoping that’s enough to stop him from ratting me out.

Keeping my eyes on my feet, I brush past, weaving through the increasingly drunken crowd, and burst outside. The Umbra isn’t exactly what I imagined when I first heard about it. Yes, I’d expected it to be destitute, but the truth is more complicated than that.

Wealthy low fae who have been corralled within its boundaries have done their best to fix up the shabby, run-down buildings. I’ve been told The Umbra has always existed as an “unofficial” twenty-fifth district, though it’s never been referred to that way. When Atlas took the crown a century ago, he forced the low fae to relocate within its borders, seizing whatever property they owned and redistributing it to the nobility.

What kind of monster would do that? Once again, I curse my absolute stupidity and naivety during the Trials. Atlas had me totally fooled.

In the past century, the once grand buildings have fallen into disrepair despite the best efforts of its citizens. Their king expends resources to maintain only the other twenty-four districts, leaving The Umbra to its inevitable erosion. I scowl at the building ahead made of faded sandstone. Frescoes and decorative scrolls surround the large windows, while the walls are carved with roses and vines, all dulled and chipped by time.

Here, the destitute rub elbows with the rich, but they all wrestle the same set of chains. There’s so much disparity packed into this tight corner that it feels like a powder keg waiting to explode.

All along, I’d wondered how no one in the palace realized I wasn’t from The Umbra during the Trials, but now I understand it’s because they had no idea what was happening. They’re forbidden from coming too close, and they certainly weren’t allowed to attend the public events. They simply had to swallow what they were told.

That fact is evidenced inside the square where I find myself. A High Fae male stands on a platform with his fist raised towards the crowd gathering around him. They’re all fed up with this treatment, and they’ve found a leader to rally for their cause. Someone who has a better chance of pulling the ear of the king in a way the low fae could never hope to.

“What happened?” asks a low voice to my left, and I don’t have to turn around to know it’s Nadir. Even if I didn’t know his voice like my own heart, my magic jumps when he brushes against me. I adjust my position so we’re no longer touching without trying to make it too obvious. I don’t want to hurt him, but I’m attempting to keep some distance.

“Nothing,” I say. “Just needed to get some air.”

“Who were you talking to?”

“No one. Just someone who wanted to buy me a drink.”

I ignore his low growl before I stalk away, trying to lose myself in the crowd and wondering where Tristan is. Our instructions are to always meet back at home base if we find ourselves separated. I don’t have to turn around to know Nadir is on my heels. I feel him everywhere.

“For too long, the Sun King has treated you like second-class citizens!” booms the man currently stoking the crowd. His name is Erevan, and despite being High Fae, he’s become the leader of their growing rebellion. He wears a simple brown suede tunic and vest, though they’re clearly well-made. His wavy blond hair is tied at his nape, and his bright blue eyes sweep over the crowd, who admire him with a manic sense of adoring fervor.