Awake (16 page)

The bottom of my stomach drops out as I gasp in disbelief. “Why?” The whispered word slips past my lips involuntarily.

“I just told you, power. Once we had you in our court, the king had ultimate power over the queen. He could spend eternity torturing her, just for the mere enjoyment of it. She never knew if you were dead or alive. She never knew if the king would hurt you or not. She did whatever he asked of her, and she lived in pure misery, unsure of what happened to you.” He smiled deviously at me then. “When you became older and showed so much promise as a warrior, it was only natural for the king to use you. Knowing the queen would hear the rumors of your possible life and then add to that your fierceness and capabilities as an unseelie fae, well, that proved to be another torment for the king to relish.”

“Why not end the war, though? Why not take over both courts and rule it all?”

“Well, you know our king,” he says almost in disgust, but then quickly changes his tone once again. “What's the fun in that? Everyone would do as he says. There would be no one to fight with, no one to plot against, no one to kill and torture. No, the unseelie fae need the seelie fae for our enjoyment and pleasure. Not to mention the king's ultimate goal of ruling all the fae in the fairy world. He wanted the queen under his thumb. With that, the king never had to fear true defeat, until you slipped away.”

At the last part he sneered at me, as if it were my fault I had been kidnapped and nearly killed. If the situation were not so serious, I could almost envision myself rolling my eyes and making a sarcastic remark about the pure lunacy of it all. However, it
was
serious, and I was about to walk through the double doors of the unseelie king's throne room and come face to face with my father.

As I walk into the massive throne room, I briefly glance around, noticing that even though everything has changed, nothing here really had. The room remains elegant and regal, every surface covered in cool marble. However, I do notice things I had not noticed before. After being in the seelie court, I can see a much more noticeable darkness to this court. The queen's vibrant throne room is a direct contrast to the dark and sinister feel of this one. Walking into this place makes goose bumps form on my arms and sends a slight shiver down my spine.

The king's throne, still in the center of the room, appears more deadly than before. Vines and branches of dark brown thorns weave and wind their way around each other to form the shape of a chair. They appear brittle and old, as if they would turn to dust upon touching them, but this is one of the many deceits of the unseelie. If you look closely enough, you can see them moving slowly like a snake, breathing and thriving like any living being. The king has spelled them to recognize only him; any other who would dare touch them would be instantly consumed, torn to ribbons.

King Foxglove is sitting upon his throne, not even bothering to glance over when we enter the room. Damien's hand tightens on my arm at the lack of recognition. The king holds his head high, completely distracted with giving orders and making threats, surrounded by servants who are mostly female fae. They are all dressed to look more desirable then they usually would, even though the king hardly notices. They are only there to make him look good or run around getting food for him. The guards are all standing around, keeping their post and vigilant of any danger toward the king.

The guards who disarmed us and brought us here walk to the side of the room, past the doorway. I hear the clink and bang of our weapons falling to the ground, out of our reach and sorely mistreated. Gideon or Thorne, or maybe both, let out a small noise, feeling as frustrated and angry as I do. Once the guards have thrown our weapons on the floor, they turn to face the king, awaiting orders. A few of them cannot help but sneak a peek or two at the female fae, though, lust in their eyes and smiles. I am sickened that I once called this place home.

There is nothing I can say or do now. Instead, I refocus on the king and what is holding his attention. There are two guards standing directly in front of him, holding a male fae between the two of them. They forced him to the ground so he is bowing at the feet of his king. He is sobbing and babbling, trying to make excuses or apologize for whatever he has done. His words are completely incoherent, but they do not matter. The king is not listening to him anyway, and soon he grows tired of the fae. With a simple wave of his hand, the king motions for the guards to do his bidding. They do by roughly yanking the man to his feet.

“Kill him,” he says in a bored tone. The guards nod once then turn, dragging the now-screaming fae behind them.

They pass us and I watch as they move at what feels like a snail's pace. Once they finally leave the room, I glance at the others behind me. Each of them is unusually pale and staring wide-eyed in the same direction I was. These brave and strong warriors have faced many foes and trained for hundreds of hours, but none of them ever actually witnessed the true cruelty of the unseelie king, with the exception of Reed and Rho. But I am still unsure of what they endured here over the past few days; I hope they have just been locked up. The fear on their faces gives me a small glimmer of hope, in this horrid situation, that this may be the case. Now I need to figure out how to keep them from enduring anything further.

Damien clears his throat beside me, turning my attention back to the king. I shrink back a bit, hoping not to be caught in his intense glare. Damien may be second-in-command to the king, but he is still only second. He has no right to speak to the king without being spoken to first, and such a tremendous bout of disrespect is not usually tolerated.

Apparently the king is feeling generous toward Damien, because he only sneers before ignoring him and quickly zeroing in on me. Sadly, my attempts to remain unnoticed do not work. A light enters his eyes as a smile spreads across his face. I inhale sharply, because the expression does not reflect joy or happiness but pure evil and calculation. My body begins to tremble. I try to stop the action by balling up my fists and stiffening my spine, but I am sure he can see and smell my fear. Fear that he thrives on. As much as I knew to fear the king, his wrath has never been focused on me before; it is not something I like. Seeing this now sends a fear through me like none I have ever felt before. I sense the others move closer behind me as if to lend support to each other as well as to me.

The king notices this as well, because he quirks his eyebrow, followed by a sly smile. “Leave us!” he demands to the room.

All the fae, servants and guards alike, leave the room, all except for Damien, two guards, and my friends. The two remaining guards close the doors firmly then turn side by side to face the room once again. They both keep their faces blank, but I can tell by their stance they are tense and ready for trouble.

“So you've made some friends?”

I start at the sound of the king's voice directed at me. Turning to him once again, I try to remain brave. It feels odd, having not bowed upon entering the room, but I refuse to recognize him as my king. Just as I refuse to show him respect. Instead of complying, I narrow my eyes and raise my chin.

He chuckles at my attempted defiance but does nothing otherwise. Instead he continues, “
Seelie
friends at that. Interesting. I would have never thought you, of all of my warriors, would befriend the enemy.”

My stomach begins to turn at the satisfaction in his voice and at his attempt to make me guilty. I know he is referring to the death of “my parents,” but I know the truth now and will not allow him to manipulate me.

I think fast, and an idea comes to me. If I can make the king believe I only used them, maybe he will just put them in prison. Then I can get them out once again. Trying to distance myself from them, I take a few steps forward as I say to the king, “They aren't my friends. The queen would not let me leave her court unless they came too, so I allowed them to accompany me.”

“Ahh. So your plan was what, exactly? Free my prisoners with the help of these despicable seelie fae and what, send them on their way?” he asks with a sneer.

“No. I planned to free my friends and then trade the seelie fae for them.”

I sense the tension growing behind me and hope my friends trust me well enough to know I am doing this for them, but the growing strain makes me nervous. Then I hear Holly and can tell she does not trust me at all.

“Traitor! I knew it! I told them you would betray us! You're no better than the rest of your court. I should've killed you when I had the chance!”

I cringe at her accusations as well as at her bravery. It takes all my strength not to turn to her. I don't want any of them to think this of me, but even more, I don't want the king to punish her for her outburst.

Before I can say or do anything, the king begins to laugh. The sound still holds the same sinister and evil tone as before, but I can also catch true humor. This is all a silly game for him, something to pass the time and torture other fae. “I can see this one sincerely does not trust you. Hatred rolls off her. Maybe what you say is true, but do you really think I would allow any fae to come into my court, break into my dungeon, free my prisoners, and then walk free? Who do you think you are?” His voice becomes lower and more deadly as he speaks, so much so it is almost a whisper by the time he finishes. The sound makes me cringe inside, but I refuse to cower to him. I will remain strong and hopeful.

Until Damien steps forward. Curse him. Of course he is not going to let the king believe for one moment these fae are anything but my friends. Not only did he witness our reunion and overhear our conversation, but he recognizes that I know who I really am.

I glare up at him, but he only smirks back at me before turning fully to the king once again. “Don't be fooled by this, My King. She's lying. When I caught them in the dungeon, they were quite close and friendly with one another. There were hugs, introductions, tears, and all that nonsense. This one—” He turns to gesture toward Holly and then turns back to the king. “—does seem to truly hate our dear Poppy, but I assure you, they're all working together.”

The king narrows his eyes at me, watching without saying a word. I swallow as I try to keep from visibly trembling.

Triumphantly Damien looks at me once again.
His hatred for me clear in the way his eyes narrow at me and his lips turn up into a sneer. I always had to watch my back, had to stay armed and alert, but I always associated the feelings with being one of the unseelie. Now I see what it truly was. They all were acquainted with my true identity and hated me for where I came from. But Damien's hatred probably runs even deeper. To have had to care for me, train me, and treat me with respect must have been more than difficult for him. It made his hatred simmer and burn with a vengeance.

I open my mouth to protest, but Damien delivers the final blow. “She is aware of her true identity, My King.”

This time the king's eyes widen as he leans back into his throne. His hands wrap around the arms of his chair; from here I can see his knuckles whiten from the tightness of his grip. Although he seems surprised and caught off-guard, his voice is still deadly when he speaks. “What
exactly
does she know?” His question comes out slowly and carefully, leaving no room for misunderstanding.

Damien begins to fidget beside me, noticing the tone and mood of the king. He is not happy about this. “She learned it from the queen. Apparently, the queen told her everything.”

“What is
everything
? I will not ask again.” His eyes have narrowed once more, but he still maintains a death grip on his armrest, and his words hiss in anger.

“She has been informed of the night we gained access to the seelie court. She knows of her abduction later and of my care for her. She's also aware that the queen is her mother and that she is the princess of the seelie court.”

The king sits there, furious, trying to figure out how to proceed from here. His face is growing red as his grip tightens on the chair even further. I can just imagine the wood splintering under his grip, his anger so clear. I have no doubt he is probably wondering if he should kill us all and make it simple, or if he should hold us prisoner so he may torture us for a bit. He may even be thinking ransom to the queen may be an acceptable option.

But all of those thoughts travel in and out of my head swiftly. Instead, I turn my thoughts to Damien, replaying his words over in my head. He failed to mention one very important part of the information I was now aware of. Something I am sure the king would wish to know as well: who my father is and who it was that told me.

I look over at Damien. His face is paler than usual as he stares at the king, and his eyes glitter with fear now. He must sense my eye on him, because he snaps his gaze to me quickly. When our eyes meet, I give him a little smirk of my own. His eyes widen a fraction, the pulse in his neck jumps. I am so glad he recognizes what I am about to do. With a wink, I turn back to the king.

“Excuse me, Your Majesty?” I say in the sweetest, most innocent voice I can manage, considering the circumstances.

“What?” he bellows. His face is red, and his knuckles are as white as the marble in his floor. I can feel his anger in waves all around the room, but I do not allow it to stop me.

“I also know who my father is,” I declare.

There are a few gasps from behind me, a few of my friends already jumping to the right conclusion. Although I had wished to inform Reed and Rho of my seelie heritage once we were safe from the unseelie court, it was not something I could wait for. They would not only be learning of that now, but also of the same shocking and horrifying news I had only moments ago learned. Reed would not fully understand what all of this meant, and Rho would still be confused, but the rest of my friends would now be informed of the
whole
story:
the unseelie king himself was my father and the one who had violated their queen.

For some reason, this news seems to calm the king. His grip loosens on the chair, and the deep red color begins to leave his face. He takes a breath, eyeing me cautiously before glancing at Damien and then back to me. The expression on his face does not give anything away this time. Only moments pass, but it feels like hours as he sits there staring at all of us until he finally tilts his head to the right. Narrowing his eyes once again, he ask smoothly, this time more curious than threatening, “Do you now?”

“I do.” My words come out more as a challenge than a statement, daring him to question me further.

“And who, my dear, do you think it is?” he asks with the same false sweetness I used on him moments ago.

Smiling widely, baring my white, slightly pointy teeth in more of a sneer than a smile, I tilt my head to the side, same as he. “That would be you,
My King
.” I finish the last two words with a sneer of my own. I lose the false smile and finally allow my anger to show.

Now that I have let go of the control holding in my anger, some of my instincts begin to take over. My heart begins to pump faster, and my warrior instincts kick in. The slight transformation begins to take place, and I do not try to stop it or hide it. The features on my face will get sharper, my teeth will be a bit pointier, and my eyes will brighten. I want the king to see that I am ready to fight.