Chương 89: Capital Offenses

This was it. The day that Feldan finally, finally got to escape the confines of his captivity. Once the clock struck midnight, he was leaving, and nothing and no one would stop him. Not even his father. Only a few hours left, and then he could finally go to Ali'anya. It had killed him to stay here and not break out of these gilded halls upon hearing her talk so nonchalantly about being punished by Riverlands. He got no news without a constant revolving door of guests.

Only the royals were even allowed to visit him, a stipulation of the bet between him and his father. And he'd fucking done it. Gone half mad with boredom, but he'd done it all the same. Poured every ounce of his magic into the isles for the crops and did nothing else. How was his hair? He conjured a mirror image of himself, looking this way and that. Perfect as usual. His bag was packed, though truthfully, he'd packed it a month ago.

Then unpacked and repacked it several times in the intervening weeks just for something to do. He had planned out his exact route, including a brief stop to see Paloka and his sister-by-mating before he went over the mountains. Dump some magic into their fields in exchange for the letters they had smuggled over the mountains before he went off.

Letting out a deep sigh, he sank into a sofa meant for far more than just one lonesome pixie, his thoughts swirling on the one thing they had been swirling on for three months. It was just like his late brother had said. You'll find someone, someday, Feldan, that sparks more than just excitement and fleeting passion. Someone who challenges you to change for the better. He'd scoffed then at the idea that he needed to change when he was perfect as he was. He wasn't scoffing now.

He cast his gaze around at the golden décor and swirling designs crafted by the greatest master artisans of Skye. It just all seemed so… meaningless. All this decadence and no one to share it with. It served no one. All of it had been a waste since the beginning. Why had his father not poured all of those resources into coming up with a solution that wasn't him? Why hadn't he? He groaned, wiping his hands down his face.

He'd tried to do something this past season, but the books bored him to tears, and he couldn't come up with anything that wasn't part of his magic. He had absolutely nothing on his goddess. If she were here, she would be able to solve it. She was smart enough. He wasn't. That had hurt to acknowledge at first. That he was incapable of solving this issue, that he hadn't thought of how to actually make leaving possible.

He'd flirted with the idea for decades, running off to the winds and trying to learn what his father had hidden from him for centuries, but he'd always returned within a couple of weeks. His adventures never lasted long. Eventually he would come crawling back to the comforts and opulence, his resolve easily relinquished for a bit of fun and the vague knowledge of how so many relied on him. Gods. He was pathetic. The doors to his suites opened.

Agitated with impatience, Feldan zipped himself over, floating high enough to be eye level with his brother Foliran. Foliran was one of several of Feldan's siblings, but Foliran held the particular prestige of being one of their father's blood children. Meaning he was currently the favorite heir to the throne. The only other blood-child had been Paloka's father. Feldan crossed his arms, annoyed already.

"What?" Foliran raised one impeccable brow. As a goliath, Foliran was roughly three times the size of Feldan. Like most goliaths, his hair was non-existent, his skin the dappled gray of stone, and he was covered in cohesive patterns and swirling designs. As brutal and powerful as their father prior to his ascension to Emperor, Foliran was their father's right-hand man and as serious as they came. One of the many reasons Feldan had never liked him.

Foliran's silver eyes narrowed on Feldan's travel outfit—a simple tunic and breeches he had magicked for himself, and a cap over his hair.

"And what is it that you're up to, now?" Feldan hesitated. Old Feldan would have boldly boasted of his destination and intentions. But even the tiny bit of information he dropped for his father, just that he had fallen in love, had led to a bounty on Ali'anya's head. Now, unfamiliar fears gripped him, leaving him unsure. Him. Prince Feldan. The life of the party was struggling to come up with an excuse on the fly. His brother's lip curled into a semblance of a smile.

"You sure you want to go?" Absolutely. But again, Feldan hesitated to answer for fear of it somehow coming back down on her. Gods, this was awful. He hated these kinds of political games. All he had ever wanted to do was play, sing, dance, and enjoy the gift of life. The one thing his brother and father were practically allergic to—fun. His brother's lip curled triumphantly.

"Are you sure this lover is even waiting for you? What if they've moved on?" She hadn't. She had let him hold her. He'd been riding that high for a month. Feldan sighed.

"If this is all you're here for, you can leave." He turned to float back deeper into his suites when his brother called out to stop him.

"Wait." Dutifully, he turned, his expression flat. His brother's lips pressed firmly and his fists clenched. After a moment of deliberation, he finally spat out, "You should know that he's sending people to follow you over the mountains." Primal rage filled Feldan.

Foliran stared in shock at Feldan's glowing eyes, struggling to breathe while being crushed by his brother's rampaging aura. Feldan had always had rather temperamental magic, which was how he was discovered by their father and adopted into the Family as an infant, but this utter loss of control overshadowed any other outburst Foliran had ever experienced. Fear crept into Foliran's heart.

That Feldan was powerful was a token fact he had taken for granted, and now, feeling the weight of his brother's murderous wrath, he knew with certainty that Feldan could kill him. Something he had thought only his father capable of.

Feldan hissed out, "I will kill anyone who threatens her freedom." Then tension between them stretched. Then the paleness of Foliran's features was replaced with a wide, nigh manic grin.

"A female, then?" Feldan stiffened, his raging aura abruptly easing in his indecision, fear, and guilt. Foliran relaxed, no longer struggling to stand as he turned, stepping around the room casually.

"Of course, you could always do the responsible thing." Feldan's eyes narrowed as they followed Foliran's casual stroll around the entryway.

"Which is?"

"Stay here. Do your duty. You've done great these last few months. After all, if you leave, you'll only put her in danger." Feldan's rage almost snapped out at his brother when his goddess's words cut through his thoughts and silenced his own in his throat. Her words that had been spoken while his niece slept on her shoulder.

"She's important to you. The others probably weren't important to you." The tension in Feldan's jaw eased as he looked at his brother, really looked at him.

"… father put you up to this, didn't he?" Foliran gave a noncommittal shrug.

"Does it matter?" A bit of melancholy chipped away at Feldan's fragile, lonely heart.

"… father would rather I went mad than be happy?" His brother gave him an odd look.

"Happy? What does she give you that we don't?" Feldan considered it before a soft smile touched his lips, and his hand landed on his chest.

"… nothing. She gives me nothing. I'm the idiot in love whom she tolerates in her orbit. And yet, all I want is to be there, anyway." Foliran studied the lovesick expression on his brother's face.

"So, you need your suitors to play hard to get?" Feldan blinked repeatedly.

"I won't be taking any suitors. I don't want anyone else. I already told father that." With a snort, his brother raised a disbelieving tattooed brow.

"Right. Sure." Feldan glared, shaking his head slowly as he said, "I have won the wager. I have done everything asked of me. What more do you need from me to believe it?" Foliran chuckled.

"Well, a mating for a start—""I'm not forcing her into mating me—""—perhaps an introduction—""So you can force her to stay here?"

"—or even a description—""So you can send more mercenaries after her?" His brother paused, a grin curling up his lip.

"So. The great Athereon really is your love, then?" This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report. The irritation that had been growing in Feldan was swiftly changed for dread.

"I never said that." Foliran chuckled.

"Have no fear, brother. In exchange for that, I won't even tell father that you clearly violated the terms by having contact with outsiders." With that, he clapped Feldan on the shoulder, humming to himself as he strode from the room. Well fuck. Two weeks before the first day of Autumn, in the Capital of Fer'ich … Ba'il'an strode from the privy in the Queen's chambers, lost in thought as he worked through the latest of the Queen's many problems.

Her powerbase was unstable, even more so now with the fall of Riverlands and the kidnapping of the university's summer camp students. She had managed to fight off and punish two entire Families who were leading the charge to overthrow her, but there just seemed to be no end to those discontented with her progressive policies who had decided Annabelle's death was the best solution. Politics and laws in Fer'ich were done with bargain magic.

While the ancient bargains held, new ones had to be created, negotiated, and established for new rulers. Annabelle was making good headway, but these things took time. Yet, despite all of the challenges she was facing, by some miracle, she'd seen him. A greenling. After the last attack where he'd taken a blade to the shoulder and earned her attention, he was cut off from the escape of a greenling death by the elders and left dangerously exposed.

The nobles, furious a greenling had earned recognition for saving the queen's little sister, had almost killed him twice before Annabelle started insisting he remained here. From there, things had simply snowballed. A fey queen who had actually seen him. Accepted him. She'd even… Well, those memories were better left for quieter moments to daydream. He shook his head to clear his thoughts, focusing back on the present issues.

A fey queen willing to listen, who was proudly friends with lowmag fey, who could change the fortunes of all those suffering under the current caste system for good. It was through Annabelle that he had the chance to form connections with fey big enough to possibly make significant societal change. Or at least, he would die trying. But progress would always be slow. With a sigh, he poured himself out some water when a quiet voice rasped out, "Dusty?"

He almost dropped the glass, he turned around so quickly, gasping and running over.

"Shit, Puds! Stay with me!" Ba'il'an caught his fellow greenling as she fell to her knees, blood dripping down her clothes from a wound in her stomach. Her light brown skin was ghastly gray from blood loss already. Without hesitation, he used one of the healing potions Annabelle had given him on her. She was a little more stunned, choking on the potion and the unexpected grassy flavor. He had choked his first time, too—like most greenlings, he had never had one. Until Annabelle.

Focusing back on Puds, he asked, "What happened?" She grimaced.

"The elders. They've lost it. They're demanding that we pick a side, and, well… according to them, I picked the wrong one." His blood went cold. Shit. She'd been culled? Somewhat nervous as he glanced around, he murmured, "How did you even get in here?" while carefully laying her down and removing the clothing from the wound so the flesh didn't seal over it—a lesson he learned early on when Annabelle took him under her wing. She grunted in pain before hissing out, "Servant's stair."

The wound began closing up and the tension draining from her body. Good. She would be fine. So long as neither Annabelle nor one of her lovers threw their collective shits… A raspy voice muttered, "I led her here. No one saw. My pet is on her way." Ba'il'an relaxed at the vampire's sudden appearance. Good. Then Annebelle would already know.

"… how did you know she was coming to see me?"

"A wounded greenling in the palace sneaking through the servant's stair. I had a hunch." He paused, considering something before stating blandly, "If you had rejected her, I would have beheaded her." Puds stiffened, her eyes wide in more than a touch of terror. Ba'il'an gave her a smile.

"It's okay, Puds. He's a lot cuddlier than he appears, promise." She relaxed a little—reluctantly. The vampire knelt down to be at their level, his eyes on Ba'il'an. Ba'il'an grimaced and sighed. The elders making her choose a side… Puds wouldn't be able to go back, and Ba'il'an doubted she was the only one.

"… they're going to need a safe place to go." He nodded.

"The palace is no place for them. Not now." Ba'il'an's face fell as he realized the man was right. Too many corners. Too many servants watching from peep holes. One or two, maybe, but more than that? The only way to guarantee their safety would be to practically lock them all up. And then there would be no escape if things went wrong. But where could they go? Mentally, Ba'il'an berated himself for not being there for Puds. Had he not been stuck in these halls, he might have been able to prevent this.

He'd protected her for so long that now his failures twisted his stomach into knots. He could have lost her to this. Lost the woman who raised him because he was so pussy-whipped he couldn't think of anyone other than himself. Had he been so busy being awestruck over Annabelle that he lost the original point of her consulting with him? As it was, it still felt like such a dream. Any moment now, Annabelle could lose interest, and his people might just lose the only alliance he'd managed to gain.

Things were so tenuous, their hope so fragile, that leaving now could ruin their only chance at making real, genuine change here. But… The smell of blood from Puds still stung in his nose, leaving Ba'il'an more conflicted than he'd ever been before. If he went away, would Annabelle forget him? If he stayed, would Puds be doomed? Would his people end up bowing to the demands thrust upon them? He couldn't let that happen. Annabelle had plenty of people who chose her. Greenlings? They had no one.

No one but the lying, power hungry elders, the secret dictators of greenling society. Their policies may have worked for however many thousands of years, but now? With Elder Branch leading the way?

Puds was more torn up about having to leave the only home she'd ever known. She knew every inch of this city, could sneak from one side to the other without anyone seeing her, hell, she knew the best places to get free food at any time of day. Bereft, she whispered, "Where will we go?"

Ba'il'an didn't know. The doors to the Queen's quarters opened and in stormed Annabelle, her aura spilling out into the room and bathing everything in a sense of warmth and home. The doors shut behind her, offering them privacy as the rooms were warded several times over against eavesdroppers, particularly after the incident at Riverlands. With Ba'il'an hidden in her rooms, she dared not risk him. Not if that was the treatment a greenling got just for rumors suggesting sleeping with a prince.

Storming across the room, she dropped to her knees to look over the still-seated Puds, immediately fussing over her, ensuring her injury was well and truly healed. Something eased in Ba'il'an's chest, and he smiled, admiring her again. The halo of golden blonde hair, her eyes speckled with a rainbow of color, illustrating her command of four primary elements of magic. All of that power, and here she was, having stormed through the castle in a fury to fuss and care over a greenling she hadn't even met.

Finally settled and assured Puds was safe, she turned with a stern look on Ba'il'an, and he found his heart fluttering at the pure sight of her truly looking at him. Seeing him. Something he still wasn't entirely used to. Annabelle spoke using her queenly voice, as she liked to call it.

"What happened?" Quietly, looking to Puds occasionally to check in on how close his mother-figure was to passing out, he explained what happened. Annabelle listened, then went silent, her gaze unfocused. He knew she was discussing things with the mates she had solidified bonds with, consulting with them. Ba'il'an patiently waited. Eventually, she nodded, then returned her fierce gaze to him.

"You need to go to Everwinter." Ba'il'an's heart almost stopped.

"You can't be serious," he whispered. If he left, she'd forget him, and there would be no one left to advocate for the changes they needed. Annabelle's gaze remained as steadfast and firm as before.

"It is the best place for you to go."

"Its too far, too risky—""The distance will provide safety for your people from their problems in the Capital. The elders can't hurt them from so far away."

"But—the Outskirts?"

"Yes." A stone sank in his gut, realizing her decision was made. He'd still argue his case. Perhaps given enough time…

"When?"

"There's a caravan leaving tomorrow."

"Leaving now, before we've been able to enact anything means losing the small foothold of support we've garnered." Public opinion was at an all-time high with the secret author of The Human Chronicles: fleeting love and forever loss being revealed by Annabelle to be a null shifter. Now was the time to negotiate the bargains for protection with as many powerful fey as he could, while their opinions could be swayed by those under them. Not in the Outskirts. In the Capital.

Annabelle's expression turned thoughtful, but no less firm.

"You know we're not in a place to enact the changes you want to see." Her smile tilted, self-deprecating as she murmured more to herself than him, "The shit part about being queen is that I don't always get to choose the morally correct answer. We've learned this. We need to be smarter than that. There're too many variables at play, and I'm not yet established enough for the sweeping changes that need to happen." That much was true. She hadn't had enough time for the most powerful fey to accept her as a leader.

A few months was nothing to them, after all, and they were stubbornly intent on their trials. But Ba'il'an knew, "You will be though."

"I will," she agreed, "but hearts don't change overnight, and frankly, I'm not in the best position to change the hearts and minds of the people." He swallowed.

"You are… forgoing—""Not forgoing. But change is hard for everyone, and as I've learned, it's even harder for fey than humans. That's why Everwinter is our best shot." His brows snapped together as he read in between the lines.

"You intend to send us to Athereon?" Annabelle's eyes, though they did not fall, softened.

"Yes."

"You're the one who said you'd already put too much on her shoulders—""That is exactly why Everwinter is the perfect place for us to start. Change is hard, Ba'il'an. But change is exactly what is happening in Everwinter. Bartos will treat your people as they should be treated, he's better at policy than I will ever be, and we can start our changes there. The people of Everwinter are more likely to accept change when they have a greenling like Athereon as a hero already." Puds' eyes went wide.

Ba'il'an shot her a sympathetic look. He was as shocked as she was when he found out that the rumored great mage Athereon was actually a greenling. Then he shook his head and asked Puds quietly, "How many greenlings would leave with us?" She fell quiet before whispering back in greenling, "Anyone who didn't agree to hand me over." Shit. He ran the calculations in his head. That had to be close to a hundred of them then, based on what he knew of his people, of their relationships with Puds.

She'd been integral to their community for decades now. Exactly how desperate were the elders? What form of bargains had they struck, and with whom, to justify shunning a third of their entire population? Over Puds? He paled, a thought occurring to him.

"How many others were hurt?" She shook her head.

"Not culled. Shunned." There was slight relief there. They would be barred from the greenling dens until they obeyed whatever law had been decreed by the elders in his absence, unable to access the community funds or supplies. Unlike Puds, they wouldn't be hunted. They would have options in the long term to rejoin the collective. But it was autumn. Food would dry up quickly, and they had no established stores of food set up.

It took most of the spring, summer, and fall for them to collect enough to keep them all fed through the winter. They would starve without outside help. Lifting his eyes to Annabelle, he knew deep in his heart he'd lost. He was still too timid to truly protest. And why should he, when it was clear Annabelle would not let them starve in Everwinter? Guaranteed food was better than none. The risk would be worth the reward. He hoped. Softly, Puds whispered, "Athereon… who are they?"

Ba'il'an's voice was hoarse with his impending heartbreak when he forced his eyes to return to the woman who raised him instead of the woman he loved.

"Her greenling name is Squirt." Puds' entire demeanor shifted. Her eyes widened just a touch. Then they turned liquid as she said in a ghostly whisper, "Squirt? Alive?" Annabelle softened even as her eyes gleamed just slightly.

"You know her?" Puds was unable to come up with any form of response to the Queen actually speaking to her. Ba'il'an switched to greenling, saying, "You can just tell me if you'd like. I remember you saying her name a few times, but I didn't realize you thought her dead." Puds shifted, fidgeting while staring at her hands.

"… she found her fey. She was so happy when she announced it to us but… she never had that same smile ever again." Understanding dawned as he finally made the connection between the name and Puds. Nodding slowly, he murmured his thoughts out loud.

"She's why you've sworn off all fey." She nodded tightly. Watching from a distance as her best friend had slowly had her spirit broken had terrified her, and she avoided any relations with fey that were not greenlings for that very reason. Glancing back Annabelle briefly, Ba'il'an felt his heart melting at the clear curiosity in her eyes that flickered between them. Unable to deny his queen what she wanted, he asked Puds, "What about before that? What was she like?

I think the queen would like to know, if you're willing." Though the nerves never left her, Puds smiled fondly, and Ba'il'an quietly translated for her as she spoke, the translation adding a buffer between her and the enraptured queen casually kneeling before them that helped Puds feel more comfortable.

"A dreamer. Tinkerer. Always fiddling with things, her head in the clouds, daydreaming away. She would just be fiddling with some sticks or bits of cloth, write out these strange symbols and create something while telling me about the latest con her and Leaf had managed to pull off."

"A gang?"

"Yeah. One of the best. Those were good years to be a greenling. Plenty of food in our bellies and laughter in our halls." Her face fell a little.

"Then Leaf's mom arranged for him to be 'relocated'—" which was greenling for she threatened his life if he didn't, "—to the Outskirts and she found her fey." Her entire demeanor glum, she shrugged.

"I told you. You missed the golden years." He nodded a little. He vaguely remembered the pretty, mischievous young woman with long green hair and a dash of freckles across her nose, but they had never really much interacted and his memories were distorted by childhood idolization. A face without a name that he'd only gotten to see from afar.

"So… she's alive? And… Athereon?"

"Yes. We'll see her soon. Gather the others—it seems we're headed for Everwinter."