When he finishes spluttering, he growls in my ear, “You are a naughty little vixen. She’ll have to ask him that herself.”
I whisper back, “For the record, I haven’t been naughty yet.”
To prove my point, I rock myself on his thigh. His arm immediately clamps around me, holding me to his side, and I giggle helplessly. Shenarah returns to the table with Dirue in tow, declaring we need to visit the facilities, so I head there with Elora, Kennia, and Shenarah. I hear Dirue ask why females always go in groups. That’s a question I’m sure Amer has been waiting to hear. I’m not disappointed. As we walk away, Amer begins spinning his exotic tale about the supposed luxuries of the female facilities.
Amer has an active imagination that makes the facilities sound more like a very fancy spa, salon, shop, and catering service all in one.
I know how this story ends, and it always ends with “Personally, I don’t believe a word of it. They’re going there to talk about YOU.”
I snicker, and Elora looks at me. “Amer’s at it again, only with Dirue and Kenric this time.”
Elora and Kennia laugh while Shenarah shakes her head. “As long as Amer doesn’t get them drunk and have them sneak in to verify it this time,” Shenarah shrugs, “I don’t care.”
As we walk, a Fey male suddenly pushes off the wall and steps into my path. I carefully step back and look up.
It’s Ruvaen, the male who offered to “help” me outside the palace a few days ago.
He examines me and smiles, saying, “You certainly look better than the last time I saw you.”
He nods toward the table and comments, “I see you found another male who wasn’t afraid of you. One that could help you.”
He sniffs and smirks, adding, “He seems to have been quite helpful.”
I respond, “He offered for me.”
Ruvaen nods, “I knew that someone would, sooner or later. One of them would have realized your worth and figured out how to help you. I am happy for you. I knew that I wasn’t the right male for you, which was very disappointing for me. For the stuck ones, even a wrong male can be quite helpful. None of us should be left stuck like that.”
Without another word, he returns to his spot along the wall, and I hurry to catch up with my friends. Kennia elbows me. “Who was that?”
“He came to court to give testimony when Ellisar stripped my name. Things would have gone a lot worse for me without him showing up and telling his story.”
Kennia preens. “I’ll just go ask him to dance then, since he was so kind to you, Yávi?. I think Dirue’s almost ready to go home anyway.”
Before I can stop her, Kennia goes and asks the male to dance. Heading back to the table, I have to warn Kenric.
I sit next to Kenric and whisper in his ear, “You remember me telling you about the male who offered to help me?”
Kenric nods, so I continue. “He’s here, Kennia’s dancing with him. I told him you offered for me. He said he’s happy for me. I don’t think he means to cause an issue, but I thought you should know.”
Kenric nods, and neither of us is surprised when Kennia comes towing Ruvaen back to the table with her. He sits there and eyes Kenric. “You’re a brave man to offer for Kili.”
Kenric looks confused, so I pause to explain. Fey have different names. We have a true name that’s between us and the gods. It’s never shared because anyone who knows it can command you. We also have our everyday names. Mine is Víl?. You already know my honor name, well, my former one. I also have a couple of war names: Kili Uin and Mair?a Effíri?."
Kenric nods. “My people do something similar. Tell me, Ruvaen, why does that make me brave?”
Ruvaen laughs, “She’s got more brothers than most women have family. Be good to our sister.”
I laugh. “He means my battle brothers and sisters. We’d do nearly anything for each other.”
Curious, Kenric looks at me, “What do your war names mean?”
“This is part of why I called you brave for offering her,” Ruvaen laughs, “Kili Uin is The Killing Wind. It’s a play on words, based on her honor name and the name of her sword. Among us, the killing wind is the one that brings frost and makes the leaves fall off the trees. Mair?a Effíri? is beautiful death.”
Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
“Wait a moment,” Kenric says. “That old man mentioned this. He called it Lantecari. What does that mean?"
Ruvaen chuckles, “Heads that fall like autumn leaves. Splendor of the Autumn Sunset, indeed.”
“I think I begin to understand better,”Kenric nods. “It’s all wordplay. It makes our ranks, such as those of General, Duke, or Baron, seem positively unimpressive. It does make it a bit hard to know who you’re dealing with, though."
Ruvaen laughs, “The more poetic and obscure, the higher the rank. Once you’ve been here long enough, it will be second nature to you, too. You’ve got some of the most powerful people in the Fey court at this table. You’re about to marry one of them. For Kili’s sake, come see me so I can explain it all to you.”
Kenric looks confused, so Ruvaen explains, “How many of your courtiers could stand in front of their King in open court, totally roast him, and walk away?”
Kenric thinks for a moment and says, “I can’t think of anyone with that much influence.”
Laughing, Ruvaen points to me, “Yet you sit here with your arm around a woman who just did exactly that. I’ll be honest, all of us who fought were secretly hoping for the Old Ways to return so she could challenge him and get it over with. All that yelling and hostility was a bit much. Even those of us who aren’t stuck find that kind of thing hard to handle. Being around someone yelling like that makes me want to shift back.”
His point about it making them all want to shift back is well taken. It can’t have been easy for them, either. I will say many things about our king, but treason isn’t one of them. That’s one of the reasons my head is still on my shoulders, or I’d be just another of Ellisar’s garden ornaments. “I hate court politics. I've spent enough time at court to know what that’s like. Ellisar can have it all and be welcome to it. I wish he’d get a better grip on his lackeys and cronies. That’s what always seems to be the source of our conflicts. He doesn’t give them enough oversight, and the things that they get up to when he’s not looking…
I see the concern on Kenric’s face and pat his arm. "The king and I have never gotten along. This is the first time it’s been so... blatant, though."
Frowning, Kenric looks at me and says, “I feel like I should throw you over my shoulder and run as far away from your King as I can."
Ruvaen nods. “Now you’re getting the idea. At the end of everything else, Ellisar is still the king.”
"And kings are dangerous,” Kenric mutters, almost to himself.
For the first time, I sense a hint of fear from this beautiful, glorious male. It disturbs me. I know without a doubt that if the king threatens him or does anything to him, I will shred him and dance on the tatters.
We spend the rest of the night dancing, and Kenric takes me home to my parents. We stop on the walkway, laughing and happy. Kenric pulls me in for a kiss, and his throaty rumble makes my knees weak. He breaks the kiss but doesn’t pull back.
I can feel his breath tickling my ear, and I shiver as he whispers to me. “Tomorrow, I have plans for us, and you’ll need to have your list ready of how I’m to freshen up your markings. If you need inspiration, try taking a bath and touching yourself. You can write down whatever comes to mind.”
I’m blushing furiously, and he laughs softly. “I plan to ruin you for any other male absolutely. I’m a bit selfish, and I want all your naughty, needy bits for myself. I’ve found them to be so incredibly, deliciously filthy, and I delight in them.”
He backs up, and the scent of his arousal combined with his words creates a heady mix. I’m almost swaying on my feet because it’s so intoxicating.
He chuckles and whispers, “Don’t worry. I’ll give you all my naughty, needy bits in return. Hopefully, they will delight you just as much.”
I stand there, trying to regain control before I have to face my parents, and eventually give up. “You are decadently, unrepentantly, wickedly carnal. I won’t deny that I’ve quite enjoyed it so far. Nine times, in fact.”
He laughs softly again. “How could I ever repent for a moment of it? How could I possibly repent feeling you coming undone? How could I ever repent for those lovely little noises you make? How could I ever repent that look on your face when you come apart? To repent, I’d have to feel guilty about it, and I absolutely refuse to feel guilty about doing things that so clearly pleasure you.”
He pulls me close against him, and I can feel that he’s hard and pressing against my belly. “Now that all this talk has made me hard as steel again, I’m going to go home and think about all your lovely little noises while I handle this myself.”
He chuckles slightly and gently nudges me toward the door. “Now, go make your list.”
My parents don’t say too much, but my mother is incredibly amused by my state when I get inside. My father wants to say something, but my mother elbows him sharply, cutting off whatever comment or question he was about to make to me. Instead, my mother tells me to go upstairs, take a nice, long bath, and go to sleep. I curl up to sleep with my face stuffed into his jacket. This time, the dream is a bit different, more complete. I watch myself follow Kenric to the battlefield and try to unravel this knot that has him trapped in that unending war. I see the spell that I cast. It’s my magic, so I can read it easily enough to know the effects. I clearly knew this male well enough to tag him and cared enough to try to break whatever binds him to this mindless repetitive battle.
I wake up in the morning and scramble to write down everything I can remember before it fades into the fuzziness of dreams. It feels important somehow, and now I realize that I’ve traveled back in time to try to unravel his binding. I still don’t understand how we met or how I came to care so deeply for him, but the dream feels all too real. During the war, I learned to pay attention to those dreams. They were often about things that had either happened long ago or would happen, which ultimately proved essential to my survival. Lantecari, my sword, comes from some of those dreams.
During my first dream about Lantecari, I saw myself lose my sword, become separated from my war band, and run away from human-scorpion-like creatures. There were too many for me to fight alone with just my daggers. I tried to hide in an abandoned farmhouse, but they caught me. The next night, I had the same dream, but this time I remembered trying to hide, and instead, I kept running. I almost escaped them. The third time, I kept running until I saw a cave and ducked inside. There was a skeleton beside Lantecari. I begged forgiveness from the fallen Fey and took the sword. That time, I survived.
Well, well, well. What a chapter. What a ride. What a festival of chaos, sensuality, and Fey social dynamics so convoluted that even I had to sit down, take notes, and wonder whether some of you are breeding these complications intentionally.
Let us reflect:
Our boy Kenric continues his streak of being:
- Dangerously earnest
- Irresponsibly attractive
- And one well?placed whisper away from spontaneously combusting
Truly a menace. A delightful menace. The kind that ruins you for anyone else, as some people in this chapter learned in graphic, thigh?rocking detail.
And honestly? Good for you.
Nothing like running into someone who once offered to “help you” during a traumatic political hearing.
He walks out of the wall like someone’s morally ambiguous conscience and drops compliments, warnings, and casual court hierarchy revelations like candy.
He means well… probably.
But also: Fey men need to stop materializing from shadows like dramatic cats.
War names. Honor names. True names. Everyday names.
Fey have more aliases than Oskar has excuses, and that’s saying something.
Kenric spent the entire conversation wearing that expression mortals get when they’re trying to pretend calculus is fun.
Ellisar continues to be:
- A problem
- A loud problem
- A politically hazardous, aesthetically pleasing lawn?ornament?making machine
And yet our heroine, with casual audacity, walked into court and absolutely flambéed him in front of everyone.
I’m not saying I’m proud of you, but I am saying your ancestors probably high?fived in the afterlife.
Kenric, please.
Sir.
Some of us have limits.
Your commentary, your intentions, your... suggestions for “inspiration” while bathing?
Absolutely unhinged.
Carry on.
Time travel?
Magical tagging?
Battlefield curses?
Prophetic dreams?
The plot thickens like a cauldron stew left on the fire too long.