Page 102 of Fae Farewells

“You have no right to touch it, much less wear it.”

“The sentient land of the fae realm seems to think I do.”

She laughed harshly. “That crown has been in my possession for centuries—”

“No. It hasn’t.” I propped my chin on my palm, my elbow resting on the arm of her throne. “It’s been eighteen years since you killed your sister. Eighteen years that you’ve tried to wear a stolen crown. Now, it’s mine.”

“This is treason.”

“No, it’s not.” I sighed. “We can’t change old news. So, let’s talk about my proposition.”

She stepped closer, and I held my hand up, treating her the same way she’d treated the fae who needed her help.

“Right there is good. You can hear me just fine.”

“How da—”

“You have my mates, Alania,” I calmly acknowledged. “I know you didn’t take them and expect to not get some retaliation from me. I want them back. In return, I won’t tear all that pretty glamor away from your skin to expose the monster beneath.”

“What glamor?” she snarled.

I rolled my eyes. “Do I look ignorant to you? I can see the glamor on your skin, feel the magic surrounding you, and smell the decomposition under it. You’d be surprised by the things I know about you.”

She scoffed, inching closer still. “You might be strong, but you can’t pull apart my glamor. And I don’t doubt your intelligence, but you can’t prove I’m not who I say I am.”

“Your daughter had some interesting things to say before I killed her. By the time I was done with her, she had spilled more than just your secrets.”

Alania stopped in her tracks, her back ramrod straight.

“Was that a button? I have a few of those too, and you’ve been pressing them all.”

Waves of fury rolled through Alania’s body, causing her to shake. I started picking apart her glamor. Each bolt in her invisible armor slowly fell away. Once the first piece vanished, the rest quickly followed. The snowball effect went unnoticed in her anger, but the skin of her arms steadily grayed.

“You can’t touch me, though I can see that you want to,” I instigated. “I made this delightful deal with my prince.”

“His deal doesn’t affect me, only those under him.”

I smirked, calling a book to my lap that Tilly had left in our room. I didn’t actually know what it was about, but it would serve its purpose.

“I found this book in your room,” I lied. “It’s quite the fascinating read. What do you know about the children of the seasons?”

Her brows furrowed for a second before she smoothed out her expression. “You speak of myths. Tír na nÓg was much the same. Legends and folklore from the past elders used to scare children.”

“There’s nothing frightening about the children of the seasons, except maybe their power. I can understand why you kept it hidden from them.”

“Excuse me?”

I opened the book in my lap and cleared my throat. “Once upon a time, the summer king and queen were simply known as the prince of summer and the princess of fall. That couple sealed a bond, then went on to have two daughters.”

“That’s not what it says,” she argued, climbing the stairs toward me.

I misted across the room, raising my voice so it echoed around us.

“The winter king and queen were simply known as the prince of winter and the princess of spring. That couple sealed a bond, then went on to have a son and a daughter. Unfortunately, their daughter disappeared, never to be seen again.”

“This is nonsense,” she barked.

“Fae have documented their traditions for several millennia. And so have the children of the seasons. In this story, the winter king married the eldest summer princess. They had four children, each one representing a season from their heritage, completing the newest millennium’s cycle of seasons.”