Page 191 of The Fallen Fae King

The last time that I’d been brought here by the Council, my mates had been tied to the marble columns, while I’d barely managed to find a way to avoid executing them.

Now, I sit here ready to become the most powerful man in the realms.

Except, the walls are made out of solid silver. The entire building is a weapon to Maximinus, who stands to the side of the apse, which is a semicircular raised stage that is flanked by twelve silver dragons in flight.

To any of the guests, who are seated around feasting tables down in the nave, it would look like Maximinus’ careful gaze on me is nothing but avuncular concern.

Yet the council members know better, especially Decima and Cato who are seated at the front. Their tables groan under platters of wild boar glazed in honey, spiced sausages, and baskets of pomegranates.

Beta servants rush between the lively, drunk guests to refill their goblets with wine.

The twelve councilors are dressed in ceremonial robes with elaborate dragon pins that mark out their status.

The senior commanders in my army, along with instructors in the Shadow Academy like Ignatius, line the walls. They rest their hands on the hilts of their swords, standing on high alert.

This ceremony is under my command.

Aquila has been confined to his rooms, however, by Ignatius. I don’t know how they will be able to move forward as a bonded pair, but Ignatius will be strictly taking back the control as both Alpha and dragon within their relationship.

It is the correct decision because even with makeup, it would have been hard to mask the bruises on his face.

I raise my hand to my gleaming military uniform, which Lucius has polished until it gleams like a mirror, and pat my chest. I have tucked the folded confessions underneath, where they are dampened by my sweat.

Nothing must go wrong today. I have waited too long for this.

I didn’t think that I would be able to wrest control back from Hadrian. He craves to remarry his mates almost as much as he craves to sit again on this throne. Its darkness whispers to his soul, along with the ghosts of everyone who he has executed in this room.

Yet my soul cries out just as sharply to marry Freya and Daire for the first time, and I shan’t lose out on my chance.

I sense Daire and Freya through our bond, and their joy mingled with anxiety spikes through me.

They don’t know what they’ll be walking into, but I made my promises to them.

I hope that they trust me.

The room is filled with the scent of incense.

Lucius and War stand at my shoulder, as on alert as Maximinus is.

Lucius leans over me, pretending to adjust my cloak, while he whispers, “Any minute now, Emperor.”

I give a short nod.

Lucius straightens.

I clench my hands on the throne’s armrests.

The fanfare of trumpets and chanting bleeds through the doors from outside. The celebrations will continue through the capital all day and night.

I have already been crowned Emperor. Everything that happens today inside the Basilica is for show.

I marched through my people in triumphal procession, trying not to show how the cheering of the crowds confused me.

It was only the second time that I had ever been amongst them, but now, they cheered for me…?

The city was decorated with garlands. Children threw petals. Cadets dared to smile and wave, shouting “good luck.”

It was the first time that I felt truly seen, rather than feared.