Destined for the Fae King (Courts of Faery #3)

Chapter 45

N ot long after our reunion in the capital, Lysandir sets off to return to the border and rebuild the wards that the Unseelie King was able to destroy. Elaine ordered letters written up to be sent to the human world informing them of all that transpired in the night. I don’t envy anyone on the receiving end of those letters. I can’t imagine any of them will be happy, except maybe my uncle. Assuming they include mention of me, which I’m not entirely sure they will. The dowager suggested I write to my family myself, but no matter how long I sit here and stare at the blank page in front of me, the words aren’t coming.

Hi Mom. You were right, I guess. I was destined to become queen after all. Sorry it’s your worst nightmare come true.

I wince and throw the pen down in frustration. Maybe if they were the ones Lysandir had gotten me they’d help me find the right thing to say, but they’re not. Retrieving our things is low priority, as it should be. And though I sit in Lysandir’s quarters, at his desk, his pens are all boring ones with black ink. Suppose we’ll have to change that.

But maybe the reason I can’t find the words is because I haven’t been able to sort it all out myself. Just over a day ago I was being dragged before the king, my sins laid bare. Now? That king is dead, and the man I love has vowed to place me on the throne beside him. Just thinking about it makes me want to laugh and cry in equal measure, and none of it feels real. Especially since Lysandir has not returned.

The sun has fallen, and logically, I know I should sleep. A full night’s rest might be just what I need to sort out my thoughts and emotions. However, it feels impossible to rest when Lysandir is not here and I don’t know what’s happening to him. The ring around my neck is warm—a good sign, but last night showed just how quickly things can change.

I grab the pen again, determined to write something , when magic shivers across my skin. The moment it does, I drop the pen and leap from the chair, whirling toward the source of the feeling.

The sight of Lysandir leaning heavily on Tharin, both sagging in their armor, makes my heart stutter-step.

“What happened?” I race across the room toward them.

“Mira,” Lysandir whispers my name.

“No need to panic,” Tharin says at the same time. “He’s just exhausted.”

Lysandir’s head lolls as Tharin lays him on the sofa. Worry races through me despite Tharin’s assurances. Lysandir may be healthy, but he sure doesn’t look it.

“Help me remove his armor,” Tharin says. “I’d call for someone else to assist, but Lysandir generally prefers his privacy.”

“It’s fine,” I say and set to helping him remove it piece by piece.

Tharin tsks as he works. “Burned straight through his magic in his determination to get the wards repaired. It’s always a hard job, and this was…different.”

“How so?” I ask .

His lips thin as if he thinks better of it, but then he continues, “The Unseelie King cut our wards to pieces at the spot they broke through. It was quick. Brutal and efficient. So much different than the first time the king cut through our wards to create a breach.”

Shit. That’s even worse than I thought. “What’s to stop him from breaking through somewhere else.”

The grim look he gives me says more than enough. I swallow, my throat suddenly dry.

“And that’s why we need our king to rest and get back on his feet as soon as possible. Good thing he has you to help with that.” He gets his king down to just his underwear and then hoists Lysandir’s unconscious form into his arms and carries him to the bed.

“How do I do that?” I ask. “Force him to stay in bed?”

Tharin groans as he finally gets Lysandir somewhere he can rest.

“Surely you know?” He raises a brow at me.

“Humans give fae power, yes. A mark even more so.”

“Uh huh. And the more you work on that mark and build the bond between you, the more powerful he’ll get. Just being near you will aid him. So, it’d be best if you get in the bed, preferably naked so your skin touches his. And when he wakes up, you can show him just how much you’ve missed him.” He winks.

I want nothing more than to vanish through the floor. “We are not having this discussion right now.”

He smirks. “Oh, but we are. You’re the best thing for him. How do you think he held his own in the fight after so little rest and still had enough strength to re-raise the wards that the Unseelie King ripped apart?”

“Fine.” I want nothing more than to help Lysandir and strengthen him. Discussing it with Tharin? No thanks. “But I’m not about to strip with you here. ”

“Then I’ll see to my own rest. But first.” He drops to one knee before me. “I’m sorry.”

I lean back in confusion. “For what?”

“For my wariness of you being near Lysandir. For doubting. I promised you would have my apology if your bore his mark.” He glances to Lysandir and back to me. “So, you have it, along with my trust and protection from this day until my last.”

I sober, the reality of what he’s pledging sinking in. It’s so much more than an apology. “Thank you,” I whisper, barely able to form the words over the weight of his proclamation settling over me.

He rises to his feet before giving a sweeping bow that manages to be both respectful and amused in equal measure. “Good night, future queen.”

Lysandir woke a few hours after Tharin returned him and we did work on rebuilding our mark. And the next morning too. The sting of loss hit him hard then, and I held him close until he fell back asleep and I laid down beside him. When I wake again, the room is bright, but the comforting weight and warmth at my back says Lysandir is still close by. I sit up carefully so as not to wake him, but when I look over, I find him watching me, wide awake.

“Good afternoon?” I tug a sheet up to cover my chest, though he’s seen all of me multiple times now.

“Afternoon indeed.” He reaches up and brushes a piece of hair back behind my ear. The simple act stirs up an ache between my legs. But even though he smiles up at me, the look on his face is a somber one .

He beckons me, close and I curl up at his side again, my head on his shoulder, one arm draped over his chest.

“I’ve been thinking,” he begins.

“About?”

Lysandir sucks in a deep breath and then lets it out again. “What the Unseelie King said before the battle.”

“About Bailey?”

He nods. “He seemed genuinely confused, and even Unseelie cannot lie. The more I think about what happened, the stranger it seems for it to have been Unseelie. They need humans. They’ve tried to capture them, sure, but harm them? They didn’t even really hurt Wren when they held her captive, but they could have to force the King of Air into action.”

“It does seem strange.”

“I thought so earlier, but with everything that happened, there was little time to focus on it. But why kill her? Why not even try to take her away? Plus, how could they know where she would be and the impact it would have upon my brother?”

A sinking feel takes root within me, and I snuggle closer to Lysandir. “Unless it wasn’t the Unseelie but someone who knew the king’s preferences and where we would be.”

“Exactly.”

“But who all knew how much he cared for her? That she was his top pick? We women discussed it later, but I don’t think any of us were really sure.”

“The council,” he says calmly. “Maybe some of the guards.”

I half sit up in urgency and stare down at him. “You think someone in the court did this. That there’s a traitor among us.”

Lysandir pulls me back down. “I want to know what you think. Talk out your thoughts with me. ”

“If it wasn’t the Unseelie, whoever did it wanted us to believe it was.”

He nods again.

“And they likely knew that the king would not be one to sit idly by and not react to such a tragedy.”

Another nod.

“So, who would benefit from such a thing? From inspiring war?”

When I don’t continue, he says, “Someone who wanted one?”

“Memnon?” It’s the first name that pops to mind. He was so adamant at the council sessions about the need to go on the offensive to defend the court before the Unseelie could gain more power. “But he was injured in the attack. Gravely so. He didn’t appear to have done it to himself, did he?”

“No. But what better way to avoid blame than to be a victim yourself?”

I roll onto my back, blinking. “If it was him, he had help.” Multiple traitors. Members of the court moving to force things to go the way they wanted them. I turn my head back to Lysandir. “How do we find out if you’re right?”

He takes my hand in his and squeezes it. “I have an idea.”