Malich stood, fuming, his electric currents lashing out wildly rising with his anger. Everyone in attendance broke out into hushed murmurs, eyeing the electric Prince. He and Evander were locked in a standoff with the former trying to protect Arya’s life from a sister who once tried to take it and the latter wanting to make sure Malich understood his place now that Arya was queen.
“Do not threatenme, you won’t like the outcome,” Malich warns.
Evander took the threat for what it was and inclined his head before saying, “She is a queen now, she is watched. If she tolerates your tone, your foul language or even appears to take advice from a Prince of a rival Court, her kingdom will assume her weak. They devour weakness.”
Understanding shone in Malich’s eyes. He too inclined his head, slicing his eyes between Arya and her kneeling sister. He could see the conflict in Arya’s eyes. Even after her sister slit her throat and left her to die she was entertaining the thought of giving the deadly girl safe haven.
Arya’s eyes kept going to the baby strapped to Alara’s chest. No one wanted her here but Tomich, and judging from the way the darkness whipped wildly around her trying to claw its way out of the throne room to get as far away from Arya as possible, Alara’s power wanted no parts of this palace.
“Arya please,” Alara begged, “Remember the last thing I said to you.”
She did remember the last thing Alara said to her, but she was haunted by the death that eventually led to her being blessed by the Goddesses of Light. It was Alara’s actions that made her queen, which meant in some weird, sickway, she owed her sister.
Silencing everyone with a wave of her hand, Arya nods to Alara and then turns to Evander, “See it done, but I do not trust her and I want her guarded at all times. She does not take a shit without anyone knowing about it or having been there to witness it,” she orders. Evander nods and escorts her sister out of the throne room, flanked on all sides by Seelie soldiers.
Arya’s eyes slide to Malich. He’s unhappy with her decision, but he holds his tongue. He has no choice. She flashes him a warm smile and takes her seat on the throne.
Lumi introduces herself to Court at Arya’s command and acts as Arya’s advisor in Evander’s absence. She handles it with the grace of a queen, Arya’s impressed. When Evander returns, he calls the public meeting to an end and promises quick answers to all that attended. He asks Arya for permission to make decisions freely and she grants it. She isn’t used to anyone asking her permission to do anything. This is going to take some getting used to.
While Evander handles the desperate Court populace, Lumi escorts Arya to her chambers with Malich in tow. The moment Arya is away from the immense Court she deflates, gasping for mouthfuls of air.
A turn ago the Court lay in ruins. Now she had thousands of people who felt the burst in their magic, knowing what it meant, and they’ve come home. They expect to be given homes and titles and occupations…all things foreign to the new queen. She isn’t sure she has the right to decide. Arya knows nothing of the Seelie Court, what’s expected of her, the Court’s customs and even less about the Goddesses of light.
Malich waits for Lumi to leave to express his disapproval. “She killed you once and I vowed the next time I laid eyes on her she would die. She is not be trusted and she should not be allowed within one hundred feet of you.”
“I agree with you,” Arya nods, “But I need Tomich now more than ever. He was the Historian for this Court and his knowledge is invaluable. Do you think for one second if I turned her away he would help me?”
Malich relaxes, shaking his head. “Probably not.”
“Those people out there, they’re expecting answers I don’t have, but hedoes. I mean…why would the Goddesses anoint someone as clueless as me as heir? I know how to kill without being seen, pickpocket without being detected, and poison without leaving a trace. This…this I don’t know how to do.”
Malich leans his head against hers. “Tomich will do whatever Alara wants. He’s indebted to her and that means you cant trust him either.”
Arya leans into his touch. She missed him. “Perhaps, but I don’t have much of a choice. Between Tomich, Evander and the other Scholars that have arrived I should be able to decipher truths from non-truths.”
No more words are exchanged between them. Malich crushes his mouth to hers, sweeping his tongue through her mouth. She wants out of the dress she wears and he out of his clothes, but Evander walks in before any of that can happen.
Malich looks murderous, “Do you ever knock?” He hisses at the General.
“Forgive me your majesty, but his royal highness is the Prince of a rival court. Sharing a bed with him might rub some the wrong way.”
“So what?” Arya glares at him.
“As queen, you’re a public figure expected to uphold laws and fight for the good of the populace. One might interpret sharing his highness’ bed as both undignified and unfit to rule, especially since the two of you are unwed.” Evander explains, swallowing hard as she casts him a murderous glance of her own. “As I said, you’re a queen now. While I may not care what you do in your free time, your people, your kingdom and your crown are your obligations. Ignore them and your populace willturn against you.”
“I’ve taken him to bed many times before,” Arya replies.
“Yes, but then you weren’t queen.”
Arya looks to Malich who bristles. She can’t deny him any more than she can deny herself. “As queen, shouldn’t they answer to me and not the other way around?”
To her surprise it’s Malich who speaks, “Not if you wish to remain queen.” She slices her eyes at him and he looks away, frustrated.
Sighing heavily, Arya sags onto the foot of her bed. “All of this power only to be confined by it still, confined by duty and the morale of a populace. Being a queen is severelyoverrated. And where are my alumni leathers? I need to get out of this dress and into something more comfortable.” Evander clears his throat to speak and Arya’s head whips in his direction. “Let me guess, along with my freedom to choose and fuck whomever I wish I’ve also lost the freedom to wear comfortable clothing,” Arya deadpans.
Nodding he sighs, “I’m afraid so.”
Arya looks down at the dress then back up at the General. “At least give me back my stilettos, I feel so naked.”
Evander walks to a glass door in her room revealing an adjoining bathroom that looks like a palace itself. Curious, she follows. Beyond that is another glass door that leads to another room with wall to wall shelving and a stand alone island in the middle surrounded by a tufted high-back seating area. There’s nothing but wall-to-wall dresses in various colors, and heels. Arya clenches her teeth together. She hates heels and didn’t know why any woman would subject themselves to the torture of wearing heels for the sake of feeling pretty.
The center island contains many jewels, some she recognizes and some she doesn’t. Evander went to what looks like a normal shelving unit, but one push on the right shelf reveals the armory within. There were staffs, swords, scimitars, her favorite stilettos and a variety of weaponry she’d familiarized herself with while training with preceptor Nyx. Sadness gripped her. Nyx was dead, killedat the hands of the daemon Malich held prisoner at the alumni training camp. Killed because of her, because the God of death wants her soul and plans to take it by force.
Arya examines her dress trying to figure out where she can hide her weapons and sighs. “It appears I’m in dire need of a seamstress with exceptional skill. If I’m to be forced to wear a dress it could at least be functional.” Evander leaves the room to find her a seamstress and she seizes the moment to throw Malich up against the wall. Once the initial shock wears off, he smiles, undressing her as quickly as he can and sinking down onto the tufted seating. Arya straddles him, impaling herself on his hardened resolve, taking what she so badly needed. He’s familiar. He’s home.
She hears Evander return and curse underneath his breath, but he doesn’t disturb them. Instead, he waits, making himself useful and drawing her a bath. When Arya and Malich emerge, he gives her a pointed look and tilts his head towards the bath. Malich attempts to join her and is stopped.
“One act of defiance is enough, don’t you think? There’s a room across the hall where you can take a shower, and clothing set out that’s fitting for a prince of the Summer Court. Might I suggest you go explore it?”
There is enough venom and bite in his tone that Malich heeds the warning and goes to clean himself across the hall instead. His eyes on the door and his back to her Evander pleads, “I know that this is all new to you and your first instinct is to fight everything foreign, my queen, but I fear that if you are not careful there will be an uprising and right now we need to be unified or face extinction once more.”
“I love him.”
“Then perhaps you should seek the Goddesses’ blessing for betrothal. The Seelie Court is unlike the others. The Gods in particular blessed this court and those who rule here are often feared for good reason. As a populace, the Seelie Court is a single force. Wielded together this Court will move mountains, divide and you will fall, the populace with it, and this palace will return to the crater from which you resurrected it.”
Arya sighs, acquiescing to his knowledge and experience. “What would you have me do?”
Evander summons Tomich and together the three of them go over the history of the Seelie Court, its noble families, their territories, its government and its traditions. In short, she’s given a crash course and then left alone to make decisions that would either go over well or incite a riot.
Arya thought about Malich brooding across the hall and wondered what he would do. She could ask him, but he knew nothing of Seelie traditions. No. This was her choice to make and hers alone.
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