SWNOVELS King of Merits: Chapter 24
Riven
Halflings deceive.
Halflings sulk and make kings grieve.
For the last three evenings, Lidwinia has seated the Elemental princess on my right side during dinner, effectively destroying my appetite.
Last night was particularly unpleasant. Over five seemingly endless courses, we ate in strained silence while Meerade gave a running commentary from her perch on my shoulder. “Black,” she said, as her beak dipped into my mushroom and sorrel soup. “Hairy,” as I took a mouthful of the boar-snout stew. And, “mine,” at first sight of the steaming baked trout.
Merri, wearing a gossamer-thin gown of shaded silver and black, obligingly fed my owl from her own plate, cooing and whispering the whole time. It was beyond tedious.
Unable to bear the tension, I broke my vow to ignore her and, for want of something better to say, haughtily declared, “Someone made a mistake and dressed you in my colors.”
Eyes fixed on Meerade, Merri fed her more fish, this time extracting the piece from my bowl. “Nope. They’re mine actually. You can’t have exclusive rights to a color scheme just because you’re king.”
Without comment, I turned to watch a blood pixie throttle her partner in an argument over a goblet of garnet wine as I mouthed the word nope three times, wondering why in the Blood Sun Merrin would choose to speak like a Port Neo dock worker instead of a princess. Most likely because of her unusual parentage.
She delivered a blunt lecture on my lack of manners, then answered my further polite questions in as few brusque words as possible. So in revenge, I broke my habit of rarely dancing and chose the second-most beautiful fae in the room to spin around the dance floor, self-righteousness swelling in my breast. Only to have it dashed by disappointment when I noticed Merri leaving early.
Not long after, I retired to my chambers and spent a sleepless night reliving the sweet smiles she granted Meerade versus the scorn in her eyes when she looked at me. A torture more thorough than even Temnen ever devised.
As a result, my mood is foul as I grind my teeth and pace outside the Meritorium, debating whether or not to enter. I can’t even recall why I’m here, but since I am, perhaps I can seek Lidwinia’s advice about the Elemental princess. No! That’s a foolish idea. My sister will only laugh at me.
Why am I worried, anyway? I should be happy Merri is ignoring me. It’s what I want, isn’t it?
No. No, it’s not.
Yes, I want her to return home where she’ll be safe, where her bright smile and mesmerizing gaze can’t torment me to death, but I don’t want her to despise me. That’s an unbearable outcome.
With a groan, I swing open one of the smaller glass doors to the Meritorium. Meerade flies from the shoulder of a tall figure in my periphery and sweeps inside with me, attacking the seven shadow ravens that have been bothering me all morning.
Damn phantom birds.
I spy Lidwinia and Elas with their heads bowed over the polished granite benchtop that dominates the center of the main workroom. Batting at the incorporeal ravens, I make my way toward my sister.
Meerade skids to an ungraceful landing on the work table, tumbling scrolls, writing implements, and plans to the floor.
Without looking up from her work, Lidwinia asks, “What’s troubling you, Riven?”
“What? Why would you ask that?” Stupid question. I already know the answer.
“Well, your mood is so black the grief ravens are following you. Their constant flapping is ruining my concentration. Make them leave.”
“Téigh vah!” I tell them as I take a seat, watching the bad omens dissolve mid-air with seven plaintive croaks.
Elas flashes his fangs in a friendly smile and nudges my leg with the edge of a wing. “Have you come to offer your opinion on the latest upgrade to the Merit pendants?”
“Nope,” I answer, trying out the halfling’s strange word and deciding I quite like it. “I wish to be distracted from my gloom. Can either of you help me?”
“Only if you’re prepared to describe what you wish to be relieved from,” Lidwinia says, fitting delicate crystals into a pendant with what appears to be the longest pair of tweezers in the seven realms. “Also, there’s a council meeting shortly. We don’t have time to entertain you.”
“A council meeting? Blood Sun save me,” I mumble, my mood plummeting further.
“Well, Brother, what’s going on?”
I place my crown on the table and grimace. “The Elemental princess needs to leave and—”
“No. She doesn’t.” The purple scale glyphs on Lidwinia’s arms flare bright. “What do you think of her?”
Silent, I stare at my crown and stroke the sharpest jet spike, blood beading on the tip of my finger.
Lidwinia elbows me in the ribs. “She’s very nice for the daughter of a sworn enemy. Don’t you agree?”
My head jerks up. “No. I don’t agree. She’s argumentative, foolishly inquisitive, her incessant questions bordering on the outrageous. Anyone who saw the way she treats me would think I’m the local swineherd flirting with her on market day.”
“Flirting? So, you like her, then?”
“Like her? Are you deaf, Sister?”
“Not at all, Brother.” A despicable smile curves her lips. “I hear you very well. And see things far clearer than you.”
“And what are these things you see?” I scoff.
My sister raises her brow, her mouth forming the smug smile again.
“Speaking of seeing things, when will you next see Merrin?” asks Elas.
I glare at him. “How do I know? As Lidwinia pointed out, she’s my natural-born enemy, not my besotted bride to be.”
Lidwinia laughs. “I never said the word bride. What about you, Elas? Did you mention marriage or a union of any kind between Riven and Merri?”
“No.” Elas rubs his mouth, hiding a smirk. “By my best recollection, the only one of us talking about weddings and brides is our king.”
“Oh, forget it. I wish I hadn’t said a word.” I shoot to my feet, stretch and crack the bones of my neck, rolling the tension from my shoulders. “You’re both unbearable, and I can’t stand another moment of your company. I’m leaving now.”
“You’ll have to put up with us shortly at the council meeting. In the meantime, I wish you luck with your…problem.” She cuts an insolent half bow.
Elas does the same, then says, “Do say hello to Merri for us.”
With their snickers raising hackles along my back, I push through the door and use magic to slam it behind me.
Elas’s words taunt me. Say hello to Merri. No, thank you. I’d rather crush her body to mine and kiss all traces of Seelie princess from her being.
Change her.
Make her Unseelie.
A queen.
Queen of Merits.
And forever mine.
The terrifying turn of my thoughts freezes the blood in my veins. I inhale a deep breath of brine-scented air, spinning slowly with my face turned toward the sun, letting it melt the ice in my chest. Finally, my pulse slows.
I inspect the clear blue sky, relieved that the grief ravens are nowhere in sight, and only gold-winged butterflies flutter over the gardens. Distant conversations drift on the breeze, the murmurs audible over the noise of turning cogs and pumping steam.
All is as it should be. My people fare well. My kingdom, too. At present, my mind and heart are the only things in danger of disintegrating. But there’s a remedy for that—I must get rid of the Seelie princess.
Without purpose, I head toward a line of trees, ambling along, my thoughts a war zone. Meerade flies above, regularly diving low to seize a tasty spider or insect to supplement her breakfast.
An idea haunts me—that a life shared with Merri, devoid of loneliness and sorrow, might only be a single choice away. I have two options. Remain alone, forever embittered. Or turn against everything my kingdom once stood for—domination, supremacy—and follow my selfish desires, taking my enemy’s daughter for a wife.
And if the prophecy is true and Merri and I are the keys to ending the Black Blood curse, then our union would unite our lands and bring about long-lasting peace. But then there are the visions to consider. The snow. The blood.
In truth, both outcomes are equally terrifying.
As I cut across a narrow path in the direction of Blackthorn Forest, a gravelly voice calls my name from close behind, halting my steps.
I turn quickly. Damn—it’s Thorne. How did his presence escape my notice? I pivot and keep walking.
The staccato thud of boots draws closer, and then Thorne is beside me harrumphing like an old goat. “You’re in a hurry,” he points out unnecessarily. “Did you forget that you’d left me waiting for you outside the Meritorium?”
What? My thoughts scramble, rewinding. Right. So, the tall figure resting against the building was Thorne. Seven hells. I must be losing my mind. “And what if I did forget?”
“Since you are the king, I suppose you’re entitled to leave your friends and brain behind once in a while.” Thorne catches my arm. “Going somewhere interesting, Riven?”
“No.” I shake him off with a shrug and a brutal side-eye. “Just planning to check the wards along Citrene Creek.” I continue walking, hoping he won’t follow, but within seconds, he’s at my side again, whistling like a river maid who’s caught herself a nice juicy farm boy for lunch.
“Why?” Thorne asks.
I sigh. “I want to ensure Nicor hasn’t been slithering around the new boundaries attempting to breach them again.”
“I see.” Thorne is silent a moment, giving me hope that this conversation is over. He harrumphs again, and I brace for his next words. “And no doubt you want to reminisce about the time you spent by the creek with the Seelie princess.”
“Minus the nix’s attack, no doubt I do,” I snap, furious that my motives are so transparent.
Thorne is my closest friend, and if he already understands my feelings to this extent, then I don’t see why he should be spared the entire embarrassing truth.
Feeling slightly deranged, I smile and say, “Actually, there is a lot to consider when I think about Merrin, for example, recently she slapped my face—”
Thorne chokes on a gasp, then yelps, “Ballocks, no!” tripping over his boots before righting himself.
Grinning, I thump his back, causing him to stumble again.
And then, as the forest closes its twisted branches around us, I continue my declaration of madness. “She did. I swear it’s true. It is amazing that an Elemental fae would dare to abuse an Unseelie king in such a way, as though I were a mere servant. But I confess, Thorne, when she did it, I experienced the darkest of thrills. She slapped me hard, too, a crime punishable by death, and it was the most enjoyable event of my life. Can you believe it?”
“Good gods, no,” says Thorne. “What I do believe is this—you, my friend, have gone mad, and your Seelie guest is a downright fiend.”
“Indeed. I wish you’d seen Merrin a few days ago. She transformed before me on the dais, and like a queen, she commanded the air element and brought every living plant in the throne room under her spell. I suspect that, at the time, if the castle walls had fallen on my shoulders, I still couldn’t have looked away from her.”
“As pleased as I am to behold you so witlessly enchanted,” says Thorne, his puzzled expression indicating otherwise, “I regret I must ruin your plans to meditate on the princess. Your presence was required in the High Council chambers some time ago.”
I stop dead. “Damn it. I’d completely forgotten. We’ll have to transfer there straight away.”
Thorne gnashes his metal teeth. As a lowborn, he cannot transfer alone, and like most fae who can’t, he despises the often painful sensation of being dragged along for the ride.
“Hurry. Grip my arm,” I say as he takes a step backward into a pine tree. “Come now, Thorne. Who’s the fierce fae guard? Is it me or you?”
“You’re far grumpier than I am. Does that count? Riven. Wait…” He stills, sniffing the air. “Did you feel that? An interference in the energy web, possibly an intruder. We should investigate and—”
I laugh. “Good try, Thorne.” Then I pull him close with one hand, lightly boxing his thick head with the other. “Your games can’t distract me.”
In a flash of heat and light, the magic dissolves our bodies into whirling particles as Thorne screams like a colicky changeling.
We materialize in the castle’s armory and march up the stairs that lead to the council room, otherwise known as the war room.
“You arrived swiftly,” I tell my sister as I push through the oak doors into the fire-lit room. It’s daylight outside but forever-night in here, a place where secrets are born and nurtured.
Lidwinia’s thin tongue flickers over her grin. She enjoys taunting me about my lack of Unseelie attributes—the curled tails, leathery bat wings, and alarmingly spiked breeding organs of past princes and kings. It used to bother me, this difference, my family believing I’m inferior, but after I met Merri in the in-between place and saw longing in her eyes, I stopped caring.
“And you took your sweet time getting here, Your Majesty.” Lidwinia lifts Rothlo from her shoulder, placing her pet on her palm.
Besides Thorne and me, five others are seated around the oval table in the center of the windowless room. My sister and Elas, Tyzagarne, the fearsome half-giant and former right-hand conspirator of my father’s, Chancellor Mareous, the sea witch who is worth the city’s weight in gold for her enduring loyalty and wise, measured council. And, of course, Draírdon, the repellent, overbearing High Mage.
I take a seat, nod solemnly at Draírdon, and offer a tight smile to the others. Thanks to Merri, I can no longer look at the High Mage without picturing a wrinkled, moldy mushroom.
After giving me a grudging bow, Draírdon rasps, “Your Highness. A king’s worth is only as valuable as his respect for his people, and arriving late to an official engagement, be it a ceremony or a meeting with one’s councilors, is a violation of your vow to serve them.”
Blood Suns save me from this fool. I spear him with a silent glare and hold it until he looks away.
Elas clears his throat. “Before we start, I have news on the eydendric elves. Their lair has been disbanded and the leaders recently seen in Port Neo. We’ll need to keep an eye on the situation, but I don’t believe they’re an immediate threat.”
“Good,” I say, my gaze still on the High Mage.
“So, what’s the order of the day?” asks Elas, tapping a quill on a sheet of parchment.
“As you well know, Elas,” says Draírdon, “We must solidify our plans to move against the Elementals. There is no better time to act than when we have the Prince of Air’s child in our hands. We would be fools to waste such an unexpected opportunity.”
“What plans?” I ask. “I’ve given no orders to hatch any such schemes.”
“Yes, My King,” Draírdon wheedles. “Indeed, you are correct. However, Tyzagarne and I, wishing only to save you from the tedious task, took it upon ourselves to commence work on them. I believe you’ll be extremely pleased when we outline our strategy.”
“Your beliefs are incorrect!” My fist thumps the table, and Lidwinia jumps as the floor and walls shudder.
Draírdon doesn’t blink. “Majesty, if you will only consider the situation we find ourselves in. We have their princess. Why not take their kingdom, too?”
“Because, Draírdon, I do not want it. My dream has always been peace. Why must you always seek to conquer others? You have a high mage’s considerable power and court position. As king, I tolerate your disrespect as repayment for the dedication you’ve always shown my family. I turn a blind eye to your games of minor cruelties, even though I disagree with them. Is all this not enough for you?”
I turn my glare to Tyzagarne, whose yellow eyes drop to his fur-covered palms. “I will never move against the Seelie kingdom unless they move against us first. Do you understand?”
“I agree with our king,” says Elas.
Lidwinia drops Rothlo on the surface of the table, and the spider rears up, her front legs slicing the air in front of the High Mage. “My brother has my full support in this matter. We should work toward making the Elementals our allies.”
Mareous rises, pearl-threaded hair of moonlight and seaweed writhing around her lithe body. “I stand with the Silver King and will strive to make his wishes a reality and to unite the Unseelie and Seelie lands before tragedy befalls us all. Look, and I shall show you the future that you long for, Draírdon. Look, and witness the horror.”
She throws her head back with a loud cry, and water pours over the table enclosed in an elongated bubble.
Inside the sea witch’s undulating globe, ghastly scenes of violence and war play, showing not only warriors and battlefields affected but every creature of fae, every blade of grass and tree, all burning or screaming in terror and pain. The land around is ravaged and dying, castles crumbling to rock and tumbling into the sea. Devastation. Horror.
Only a madman would desire this outcome. “Enough,” I whisper. “I’ve seen enough.”
Instantly, the scene dissolves, the water frothing and churning back to Mareous, disappearing down her throat while she moans and shakes with power. Then it’s finally over.
She returns to her seat, her ocean eyes on the mage, asking a question that he’ll never be able to answer correctly.
I touch her arm gently. “Don’t worry,” I tell her in my mind. “He cannot move without us. A coward at heart, he’ll never dare. He’s terrified of you.”
Mareous is young but her inherited magic is incredibly old and strong, and when united with my sister, Elas, and myself, we’re unconquerable.
“You’ve seen the outcome of a war with the Elementals. Do you still have nothing to say?” I ask Draírdon.
Tyzagarne speaks. “The vision did not appeal to me. So, for now, I will do my best to please you, Silver King. I will work no more on these plans against the Land of Five and its rulers.”
Draírdon stares at his bearlike accomplice, outrage blazing in his eyes.
“And you?” I ask the mage.
“My sentiment matches Tyzagarne’s. I will not move for now.”
“Then we are agreed, and the meeting is at an end.” I get to my feet and signal for Thorne to do the same. “After witnessing the decimation of my home, I find I have no patience left for trivial matters. Let’s continue in three days.”
Thorne and I leave the High Council room as quickly as possible, then stroll back through the castle toward my chambers. If I’m to survive another night of the halfling’s company, I need sleep before tonight’s feast.
When we arrive at my door, Thorne says, “The presence near the forest; let’s hunt it tonight.”
“I look forward to it. After dinner, meet me in the armory.”
Thorne bows and strides off, disappearing down the staircase at the end of the hallway.
Feeling better than I have all day, I grip the sides of the door frame, lean forward, and stretch my shoulders. A nighttime hunt will keep my mind off Merri.
And then tomorrow, I must decide what to do with her.