I smile. “It's a game he enjoys playing. I need a bath, and then I'm going to bed.”
I head to my room to bathe. I feel a bit wobbly, with weak knees and enjoyably sore in some spots. A good soak helps a lot. He is an incredibly glorious male. I'm not sure I can handle another day like that, but I think I want to give it a try.
I go to my wardrobe and pull out his jacket. It still smells like him, so I bury my face in it and go to sleep. For the first time in a long while, I don't dream about things emerging from the dark. Instead, I dream of an ancient battlefield where my stunning male is caught in an endless war that resumes with each new dawn. I wake up sensing that this is important in some way, and a part of the feeling that I should recognize this man.
I get up early and start fussing over my appearance. Finally, I have something I think is appropriate for court, so I head down to the kitchen to have breakfast. My mother looks me over and shakes her head. “Lower the neckline and push up the bodice, and you'll be perfect.”
I am in shock. What just happened? Who is this woman, and what did you do with my mother? I’m usually told that what I want to wear is too immodest, too revealing. Still, I comply since her instincts are generally quite accurate. A flick of my wrist and the dress alters itself. My mother shakes her head again and flicks her own wrist. “Like that, dear. You really have to learn how to catch a man's eye.”
I look in the mirror and am stunned. I look amazing. I'm just finishing my food when there's a knock at the door. I open the door, and he's standing there. His mouth drops open for a moment before it snaps shut. “Oh my Gods! You look incredible.”
I look him over and hum for a moment, thinking. “Can I dress you again?”
He shrugs and nods. A flick of my wrist and his human clothes are gone, replaced by Fey clothes. This time it's something just short of royalty.
I'm not sure what his rank is or what our equivalent would be, but he looks fantastic. He looks impressive and formidable, which is what I think he needs for these negotiations. He takes my hand and kisses it. “Shall I drape you over the saddle bow again, or would you rather ride in a carriage?”
I blush furiously. “I think the carriage is more appropriate for the circumstances. Perhaps we could save the saddle bow for later?”
He smirks and chuckles. “As my lady wishes. Where would you like to go this evening?”
I think for a bit and then make a suggestion.
“Somewhere with dancing. I can teach you some of the Fey dances.”
We arrive at the palace, and my heart is pounding. We spend a few moments outside, and his finger makes lazy circles on the back of my neck. “I’m right here, and everything's going to be just fine. Be calm, and we'll get through this. I won't leave you alone.”
I calm down, and he offers me his arm. We reach the top of the steps, and the rest of his trade delegation is already there. One of them looks at Kenric and shakes his head. “Going native, I see.”
Their clothing looks coarse and unrefined to us. Maybe it's impressive where they come from, but not here. I'd offer to dress them, too, but somehow, I don't think they’d accept my help. I have a feeling this is going to be difficult.
Maybe it's best I just let them see for themselves. We approach the guards, who ignore the other humans and address Kenric by name. This leaves a few of them fuming, as some of these other males apparently outrank Kenric, but they chalk it up to a misunderstanding. Unlike the vague directions they received earlier, which left them wandering the palace in search of the correct room, we are escorted to the conference room.
The guard bows deferentially to Kenric, while ignoring the others, before he leaves. One of the others remarks that this is a new and different treatment.
Kenric smiles at them and explains, “No, it's the clothing. Clothing here often shows rank, and by wearing human clothing, we are not showing our rank.”
They discuss this among themselves for a time before deciding to visit a Fey tailor and have new clothing made. I start to say something, but he waves me off with a wink.
Instead, he hands me a huge sheaf of papers. “Why don’t you read through this while the rest of us talk?”
The men go off and talk while I sit at this side table, reading and making notes. I have decided that I don’t like these men much. They rarely look at or even speak to me, which is just as well. When I do try to be helpful to them, they’re absolutely painful, and I give up. They are convinced that having a few extra bits makes them somehow superior.
This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.
Mostly, it makes me want to stab them. Repeatedly. I am contemplating how to accomplish this without getting into more trouble with Ellisar when Ellisar finally puts in an appearance, followed by his advisors. Out of the corner of my eye, I see the king stop and sniff in my direction. I keep my head down and keep reading, but he sits across from Kenric. A huge slight to some of the men who seem to outrank Kenric, and one that these men don’t even seem to be aware of.
The king sniffs again, and Kenric pretends to be unaware, but I notice the twitch at the corner of his mouth and the sideways glance he gives me. It doesn’t take a spell or a mind reader to see that the king isn’t happy, and that my father was right. The king had been hoping to interfere, but with both of us so clearly marked by each other, it’s almost impossible. Having walked through the palace, at least half the court now knows that we’ve marked each other.
I notice the smirks, smiles, and whispered comments. If the king tries to interfere now, both of us are entitled to challenge him to single combat. He’s not allowed to name a champion either. I sit reading and noting what needs to be changed. Secretly, I hope he tries something. He didn’t mention banning challenges when he banned dueling. That would make him open game, and I have no doubts about who would win a match between Ellisar and me.
The king sits there, shuffling papers and clearly delaying while he’s trying to figure out what I’m up to. The fact that I have a king dancing to my tune, at least for the moment, isn’t lost on me. Ellisar is usually the one making the meat puppets dance. Having the tables turned on him seems to be bothering him. Finally, he gives up, much to my amusement. Ellisar finally calls out to me.
“What are you doing here, Víl??”
I smirk at the sheaf of papers, but I’m not ready for him to see me just yet. “Reading this document.” “I can see that you’re reading, Víl?.”
The king is practically grinding his teeth again. I’m not entirely sure why this is so, but I do seem to have this effect on him rather frequently. If it were anyone but Ellisar the Asshat, it wouldn’t bother me much. However, it is Ellisar the Asshat, and having someone who can turn you into a statue for a few centuries, grinding their teeth at your presence constantly, is more than a little troublesome.
Ellisar tries again. “What exactly are you reading, Víl??”
I smirk at the pages in front of me again. “I’m not entirely sure. Parts of it look like a trade agreement, but mostly it looks like a robbery.”
I catch Kenric’s carefully stifled snort. Ellisar heaves a long-suffering sigh. “Víl?, why are you reading that trade agreement?”
I’m still making notes in the margin and having a hard time not giggling. “Because my future husband has asked for my assistance with our language.”
Ellisar huffs for a moment. Frustrated now, he’s too polite to growl at me in front of the foreigners.
“Víl?, shouldn’t you look at me when I’m speaking to you?”
The tone in which this is delivered is nearly enough to make me burst into laughter. Knowing my game is up, I take a deep breath and put on my very best smile. With my cheerful smile in place, I look up. “Yes, Your Majesty. I didn’t want to lose my place.”
Since I'm no longer entirely feral, the king is surprised by my appearance. His mouth opens and then quickly snaps shut. “Are you really this much improved in such a short time? Gods above! It’s a miracle. How did this happen?”
My smile turns into something mischievous. “Perhaps you should ask my future husband.”
The king sniffs at my impressive male, Kenric, again, glances at me, and gives a knowing look. He shuffles his papers a bit more and shoots me a side-eyed glance. “That might be better handled as a more private discussion to be had later.”
I nod in agreement and go back to making notes. Now he’s curious, and he’ll ask me what I’m doing. As if on cue, the king asks why I'm making so many notes. “I'll need to speak with my future husband to understand what the intention behind some of these clauses is before I can answer that question. However, there is one thing that surprises me. The standard Fey clause asking for children was left out.”
Now I'm getting a rather pointed look from the king, who is certain I’m playing a prank, and curious looks from these men from the trade delegation. I shrug nonchalantly. “It’s usually customary to ask for daughters, but I can’t seem to find it in here anywhere.”
I throw this idea out to see what these foreign males think of their females. I see Kenric chewing on his cheek, thinking it to be nothing more than a prank. Even the usually unflappable Ellisar looks startled when the men ask how many daughters. These men would really sell their daughters for some Fey silk.
If that’s truly the case, they’re better off here. Gods alone know what other trinkets they might be traded for otherwise. That dark look from Ellisar suggests he has already included some tricky wording in this agreement. Still, I managed to get them to agree to send unmated females. The border wars have caused a significant population imbalance. The war took far more females than males. Getting more females, even human ones, is incredibly valuable to us. They should come here, where they’ll be respected and well-treated instead of being auctioned off like cattle by these asinine humans.
Shaking my head, I go back to hunting for the tricky wording. I know he’s wondering just how much of it I will find. The more I see, the more he’ll try to sneak into other parts of the agreement. He's worried I might find all of it. I’m not, because this isn’t something I specialize in. I figure he’ll slip a few things past me, and I’ve already warned Kenric about this. I want to plug the big, obvious holes as best I can. He might still slip a few things in, but it won't be nearly as much with me checking everything. I’ve long since stopped caring if I make the king angry or not. I’ve been angry with him for a very long time. I’ve got seven centuries of experience dealing with that man. These men have had days.
It doesn’t take a genius to understand that if you have a payment schedule for goods, you should also have a delivery schedule for those same goods. These men are poor negotiators, but they sit across from Ellisar, who is an excellent negotiator. This will not end well for them. Ellisar’s advisors pass him more documents, which he reviews. One of his advisors gives me a look, hiding his amusement from the humans, before rushing off to draft the clause about the females. Giving me another side-eyed look, the king forces a smile and begins negotiating seriously. This day seems to be dedicated to negotiating for Fey silks.
Ahhh Chapter 11…
The chapter where romance and diplomacy slow?dance while Víl? tries not to stab anyone with a quill, Kenric smolders like a hearthfire in tailored Fey clothes, and SEVERAL HUMAN MEN prove that evolution sometimes takes a day off.
Let us unpack this masterpiece.
Our beloved heroine:
- wakes up pleasantly sore (for… reasons ??)
- wears her man’s jacket like a lovesick wolf
- dreams prophetic battlefield dreams
- gets coached by her mother to weaponize cleavage
- and then shows up to court looking like a polished divine threat
International Diplomacy Now 10x Sexier**
Víl? flicks her wrist and Kenric goes from “competent human soldier” to:
“Fey Prince Who Absolutely Knows How to Ruin You Politically AND Romantically.”
The guards recognize this energy instantly.
The human delegation?
They show up dressed like burlap sacks with buttons and wonder why no one respects them.
Proof That Arrogance and Intelligence Rarely Travel Together**
These men:
- barely acknowledge Víl?
- assume rank = competence
- assume gender = irrelevance
- assume Víl? is “just reading”
- and genuinely believe their paperwork can survive scrutiny
Víl?, meanwhile, is mentally calculating the optimal stabbing angles.
Ellisar arrives, sniffs the air like an annoyed bloodhound, and proceeds to:
- get jealous
- get territorial
- get quietly furious
- realize Víl? has him boxed in socially AND magically
- and then get forced to treat her like an equal because she’s MARKED
This man used to have absolute power.
Now he’s prey.
A Battle of Wits the Humans Did NOT Survive**
She finds loopholes.
She finds traps.
She finds missing clauses.
She calls the entire thing “a robbery” TO THE KING’S FACE.
Ellisar, somewhere internally:
“Please stop. I can’t discipline you without getting stabbed.”
Kenric is trying SO hard not to laugh.
The delegation is trying SO hard not to faint.
Víl? casually mentions that Fey trade agreements usually request daughters.
The humans IMMEDIATELY ask “How many?”
Víl? is horrified.
Ellisar is horrified.
Kenric is horrified.
Even the walls are horrified.
Chapter 11 is a glorious ballet of:
- seduction,
- political maneuvering,
- human incompetence,
- Fey dominance,
- Ellisar’s rising blood pressure,
- and Kenric being the only man in the room with two working neurons.
Víl? wasn’t just present in this chapter, she ran the room while pretending to sit quietly and read.