Read Online To Love a King (Court of Annwyn) by Shona Husk - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Shona Husk
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silently waiting to see what he’d do.
Freeing Bramwel seemed to have made them happy. And if he’d cut down the tree instead and killed Bramwel? He doubted they would have interfered. Wild fae rarely interacted with anyone; they merely watched.
If there were wild fae here, what else was here? Did his mother or Sulia now have the area guarded? He hoped he wouldn’t need to use his sword tonight. He didn’t like killing.
Maybe he was too soft to be King.
He pushed the thought away. He didn’t have to kill to be a good King. His father hadn’t killed to rule the Court—but then, his mother had done enough for the both of them. The trees grew closer together, and he could feel the resonance of the grove now. The wild fae fell back, unwilling to enter the place that had been desecrated, used to bind and torture.
His mother had gone to great lengths to hide it, away from a natural doorway yet close enough that the distance could be covered with a captive, and in a place of reverence for the wild fae. What she’d done had driven them out of the grove. He paused before entering. There were seventeen trees. Well, they looked like trees to the casual eye, but when he looked closely, he could see the fairies reaching for the sky and silently crying out. Their feet were embedded in the earth. They were alive and yet not.
Bramwel had refused to discuss what the experience had been like after Felan had freed him—except to say that it was nice to have a stretch and a scratch. After the successful recovery of one fairy, he knew all could be saved. The trouble was, he didn’t know what they’d done to be put here. With his mother, it could be anything from daring to be the King’s mistress to beating her at cards.
He drew in a breath and tried to center himself. A little wine from the cup of life around the roots of each tree, and the spell would break. For a moment, he considered each tree. Did he make his case now, while they could listen? Or wait? Or just let his actions say everything that needed to be said?
He sighed. This was bad business. But it would have been worse if he’d arrived and found them all cut down. He sheathed his sword and pulled the cup of life from his belt. He knew he wouldn’t be handing it back to his father this time. His father had been surprised when he handed it back after the last time he’d used it. Felan had been shocked his father would hand it over to him so readily. Only the King should use the cup of life. He looked at the relic from another time and saw it as more than a magical object, more than an ancient animal horn. His father trusted him to do the right thing and become the next King of Annwyn. His father would do anything to ensure that happened.
That was why Felan was here and not his father. It was important that he was seen to be these fairies’ savior. He pulled the cork from the small bottle of fairy wine he’d tucked into his waistcoat pocket and filled the drinking horn. Then he walked widdershins around the grove and spilled a little at the base of each tree. The ground immediately sucked up the offering and the branches began to quiver and then lower. He took a step back and watched. A slow smile formed as the bark fell away and the fairies began lifting their feet out of the dirt where they had been rooted for too long.
A few stumbled, their legs unused to movement. Felan helped them up. He poured more wine, and let them drink and heal. They thanked him, not caring who he was, just that they were free. Their clothes were fashions he’d forgotten—the flowing white dress on a pregnant lady; gold-embroidered robe on a man; tight, multicolored hose on another. Some had been here for a very long time. It was a cruel punishment that should never have been allowed to happen.
How had Eyra even learned this magic? And who else knew how to trap a fairy forever? That was something he’d yet to find out. He made a mental note that he needed to see his mother—and
Freeing Bramwel seemed to have made them happy. And if he’d cut down the tree instead and killed Bramwel? He doubted they would have interfered. Wild fae rarely interacted with anyone; they merely watched.
If there were wild fae here, what else was here? Did his mother or Sulia now have the area guarded? He hoped he wouldn’t need to use his sword tonight. He didn’t like killing.
Maybe he was too soft to be King.
He pushed the thought away. He didn’t have to kill to be a good King. His father hadn’t killed to rule the Court—but then, his mother had done enough for the both of them. The trees grew closer together, and he could feel the resonance of the grove now. The wild fae fell back, unwilling to enter the place that had been desecrated, used to bind and torture.
His mother had gone to great lengths to hide it, away from a natural doorway yet close enough that the distance could be covered with a captive, and in a place of reverence for the wild fae. What she’d done had driven them out of the grove. He paused before entering. There were seventeen trees. Well, they looked like trees to the casual eye, but when he looked closely, he could see the fairies reaching for the sky and silently crying out. Their feet were embedded in the earth. They were alive and yet not.
Bramwel had refused to discuss what the experience had been like after Felan had freed him—except to say that it was nice to have a stretch and a scratch. After the successful recovery of one fairy, he knew all could be saved. The trouble was, he didn’t know what they’d done to be put here. With his mother, it could be anything from daring to be the King’s mistress to beating her at cards.
He drew in a breath and tried to center himself. A little wine from the cup of life around the roots of each tree, and the spell would break. For a moment, he considered each tree. Did he make his case now, while they could listen? Or wait? Or just let his actions say everything that needed to be said?
He sighed. This was bad business. But it would have been worse if he’d arrived and found them all cut down. He sheathed his sword and pulled the cup of life from his belt. He knew he wouldn’t be handing it back to his father this time. His father had been surprised when he handed it back after the last time he’d used it. Felan had been shocked his father would hand it over to him so readily. Only the King should use the cup of life. He looked at the relic from another time and saw it as more than a magical object, more than an ancient animal horn. His father trusted him to do the right thing and become the next King of Annwyn. His father would do anything to ensure that happened.
That was why Felan was here and not his father. It was important that he was seen to be these fairies’ savior. He pulled the cork from the small bottle of fairy wine he’d tucked into his waistcoat pocket and filled the drinking horn. Then he walked widdershins around the grove and spilled a little at the base of each tree. The ground immediately sucked up the offering and the branches began to quiver and then lower. He took a step back and watched. A slow smile formed as the bark fell away and the fairies began lifting their feet out of the dirt where they had been rooted for too long.
A few stumbled, their legs unused to movement. Felan helped them up. He poured more wine, and let them drink and heal. They thanked him, not caring who he was, just that they were free. Their clothes were fashions he’d forgotten—the flowing white dress on a pregnant lady; gold-embroidered robe on a man; tight, multicolored hose on another. Some had been here for a very long time. It was a cruel punishment that should never have been allowed to happen.
How had Eyra even learned this magic? And who else knew how to trap a fairy forever? That was something he’d yet to find out. He made a mental note that he needed to see his mother—and
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