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“How about you, Royad? What was your ‘special’ task, and what promise did the great Day King give to you?”
The goblin tried to be indignant and vehemently deny the accusations, but Ciaran reminded him his playroom was empty at the moment.
“Fine! He approached me in the shadows after you maimed my daughter in front of the whole court. He saw how pathetic it was to treat a human with more respect than my daughter. He told me if I made sure the females’ cages were open in the back when you both were away from the dais, he would then insure my daughter became queen. I had no idea what he spoke of at the time, but he assured me I would know as soon as the time came…and I did. As soon as you left to investigate Kes, I spelled the cages open and left the ballroom to check on my daughter.”
Ciaran laughed a full bodied laugh. He had known it had been Royad who opened the cages. No other goblin would have been stupid enough. “Well, I can promise you this, Royad – your daughter will never be queen, and the Day King will never help her get there.” Ciaran knew Royad was willing to sacrifice himself if it meant getting his daughter on the throne. Through this whole exchange, Royad maintained a smugness. He believed the Day King would still hold to his end of the promise, since fae can’t lie. Royad’s brow creased at Ciaran’s confidence.
“Do you want to know why?” He gave the goblin his most wicked grin that stretched too wide across his face; it showed too many teeth and allowed his sharp incisors to be on full display. Ciaran placed his hands on the table and leaned as far into Royad’s space as he could. The goblin swallowed hard and waited for Ciaran to reveal what he knew.
“Because he’s dead.” Ciaran had never seen a goblin go such a pale shade of green before. He motioned to Kes to make Royad stand.
“Cousin, would you care to do the honors?” Ciaran asked. Kes’s red eyes seemed to glow brighter for a moment before he gripped the side of the goblin’s head and ripped it from his body. Ciaran would have the heads displayed on spikes in the most common hall of the palace, as a message he was hunting for those involved. Ciaran and Kes both took their seats again, ignoring the dark blood soaking them. Looking at the rest of his council, he was pleased to see they smiled in devilish delight.
“Well, we seem to be two members short,” said Ciaran. The fae around the table laughed. “I already have someone in mind for one of the seats and I think I shall leave the appointment of the second seat to her.”
The room fell quiet.
“Do I dare ask who this ‘her’ might be?” Georden asked as he leaned forward in his seat.
“My mate.”
This information sent the room into a confused uproar.
“Etain, the human I presented as my pet, is actually the most powerful witch to be born in any of our lifetimes. She also happens to be my mate. We will be having the mating ceremony, as well as the ascension to the throne as the true King and Queen of the Night Court, tomorrow at crescent night.”
The three council members were talking over one another, each trying to be heard. Kes and Ciaran sat back and let them digest what he had just said.
“My prince, I am truly pleased you will finally be ascending the throne, but a witch as a mate? There must be some kind of mistake. Surely you must be bewitched.”
Ciaran had to work to keep himself under control, though he did not begrudge Fiandra the question; he had even considered it a possibility in the beginning.
“I understand how it must look, and I wish I could tell you everything, however, I am quite literally unable to speak the words to anyone except my mate. If any of you take issue with who and what my mate happens to be, speak now and vacate your seat.” He made eye contact with the remaining three, letting each know he would be uncompromising when it came to his little witch. No one stood or spoke.
“Good – now that’s covered, prepare yourselves. There will be change coming, and you will either get on board or you will be removed in any manner I see fit. If I catch even a hint of a whisper of anything threatening towards my mate, your death will not be swift, and your head will adorn the hall as well.”
Forty Three
CiaranandKesexitedthe council chamber with a snap of their fingers, leaving the three remaining members in stunned silence. Ciaran was determined to have a council that did what it was meant to – help him run the court.
He was even more intrigued to learn all he could about the ancient fae and how they’d ran the Night Court many generations ago, both in leadership and culturally. He knew none of the libraries in the palace would hold the information he sought, long since being censored to reflect a court his ancestors had deemed appropriate. He felt an intense desire to go to the archives, as if fate were telling him what he sought could be found there. As he considered his next step, he hadn’t noticed he’d stopped walking and had been staring off in thought.
“Cousin? Are you well?” Kes asked with one of his downy brows lifted – half in concern, half in jest.
“Of course. I’m not sure if I have ever been better, if I’m being honest. I was just thinking about something – have you ever wondered if the way of our current court has always been the way things were done?”
Kes’s brows furrowed as he considered Ciaran’s question. “I wouldn’t say I have ever wondered if things had been different, per se, but I have often wondered why things are the way they are. The way we kill each other off without just cause and for simple fun feels counterproductive to strengthening our court. I am also not sure the whole ‘high fae’ and ‘lesser fae’ titles are necessarily a great thing either. It’s as if telling our creator they made a mistake, and that doesn’t sound very wise.”
Ciaran had not even considered the lesser fae, and he was mildly annoyed with himself. Even if he hadn’t thought about it, he knew his mate would take issue with the way lesser fae are treated.
“I think we should go to the archives. I don’t think anyone has been down there in several generations. Hopefully it has not been purged of the information we seek. What do you say, cousin? Shall we rummage through the dusty chambers in search of answers while we wait to retrieve Etain and Anin?”
Kes agreed, though not before letting Ciaran know he was not thrilled to be getting all dusty and how hard it was to clean dust from his feathers. Ciaran rolled his eyes and the two ported to the one place in the palace neither of them had ever been; it was tricky doing such a thing. They knew the general location, but could not guarantee landing in a desirable spot. The last time they had ported without knowing their desired location was when they were younglings. They had been trying to get into the kitchen and put an herb in the stew for the evening, which was bound to send everyone who ate it running to relieve themselves and spend the rest of the night with stomach cramps. They had thought it would be hilariously cruel. Alas, when they landed in the kitchen, they fell in the pile of rubbish. Instead of enacting their prank, they spent the remainder of the night scrubbing the stench off their bodies.
Luckily this time they both managed to arrive in decent locations, only stirring up thick piles of dust, which had been undisturbed for centuries. They both called light orbs to themselves, illuminating the pitch black room. Locating a fireplace, Ciaran snapped his fingers and a roaring fire immediately occupied it. Between the fire and their orbs, the archives were decently lit and easy to see.
Kes looked around at the stacks of scrolls and books piled high on every shelf and surface; no obvious rhyme or reason to their organization. “Well this looks like it will be… fun,” he said dryly.
Ciaran was not sure where to start, but he decided they should attempt to decipher if there was any organization to the archives at all. “How about you start on that end, I will start on this end, and we’ll see if the fae of the past at least put like with like? I doubt we will find what we are looking for tonight, and I might send the brownies down here to see if they can do anything to improve the state of this place. If they can, it would at least make the next time we are down here more productive.”
