“I think that would be enough.” Clythia didn’t need to turn back to see that it was Vina who was approaching her.

But Clythia didn’t stop, her fingers having a mind of their own, creating splinters on the lamppost with a dagger, which peeled off by itself and found its way back to her hand. As though nothing had happened, the lamppost was whole again, which was irking her too—a constant reminder of the façade reality of this place. They were trapped in the lion’s den, a den that was aesthetically appealing to the lambs. What would happen if it all fell apart? Would they find themselves in an abyss, or a lake of fire, or beneath unbreakable ice, or worse?

Heat had engulfed her body, sweat soaking her, an adhesive on her skin, her bushy hair defying gravity but doing its best to shield her from the morning sun. Her white satin dress was leaving little to the imagination, turning the Evils’ heads and the fairies’. None approached, of course. Should she thank her captor, Tiyus, for that too? What a twisted reality.

“My queen.” Vina’s tone was laced with worry.

Clythia whipped her head to the Lady of Hypercas, out of breath, dagger in hand. “What?”

“You have been throwing that dagger for Ilyana knows how long.” Vina crossed her arms, wearing a scarlet dress that hugged her from below her chin to her feet. “You were fine when I left you with Kay. What happened?”

"You didn't leave me with him. I told you to go inside." Clythia said as her mind reeled.

Kay.

Kay, the human king of Zalax.

Kay, the most powerful one who had tossed her to oblivion.

Kay, the host of the Evil lord, Tiyus.

“Nothing.” Clythia managed to fake a false smile, or so she thought. “I am just blowing off some steam. What time is it?”

Vina, unconvinced, looked down at her shadow, which was longer on the west side, and stared up, squinting at the sun. “It is the fourth hour of the day.”

Two more hours, then. But it felt like two decades.

Clythia loosed the dagger in her ring and began pacing back and forth.

“Look, my queen.” Vina addressed her that way twice; this was no good. Here came the roasting. “Your emotions tend to get the better of you; they are all over the place, but this is pandemonium. What is going on?”

Clythia huffed. “Oh, so the know-it-all, the preened Lady of Hypercas, the one who rules the city with calmness and modesty, creating a utopia for its inhabitants, your grace.” Clythia mimicked a courtesy. “You have the tongue to criticize a ruler of a continent? You find fault in every move, every garment, every etiquette. It is not my fault that the Sovereign abandoned us and left us with rotting land; it is not my fault that I have to keep my family and my continent safe and do what I thought was right, and it definitely isn’t my fault that we are all in a big shithole than we anticipated. Or is it? I say, you preened Lady, be the judge, hmm?”

“I was just merely stating the facts.” Vina’s brows rose, unfazed by Clythia’s ire. “I was worried because you are acting differently than usual.”

“Worried?” Clythia shook her head. “You don’t get worried about me. You are just waiting for my downfall, like the Lady of Spies. No one has got my back.”

“You are very wrong on that.” Vina pursed her lips, her cheeks matching her dress.

“Of course, I am. Queen of criticism.” Clythia said. “I am always wrong.”

Clythia didn’t give her a chance to respond as she entered the inn and headed to the bathroom, found at the end of her bedchamber. It wasn’t occupied; the tub was filled with clean water. That was weird, but what wasn’t in this place? Clythia had a feeling that if she let the water go down the drain, it would refill from whatever façade well it was connected to. Thus, she just rolled with the flow.

With the help of perfumed soap from her ring, the water turned to a light pinkish foam. Naked, she stepped into the warmth, easing the tension from her limbs and skin. She immersed herself until the curse around her neck was hidden beneath the foam.

“Can I have a word?” A male voice woke her from her slumber.

Clythia opened her eyes. There he was, the king of faeries, Modyr, wearing his moss green tunic and breeches, his smooth skin a stark contrast to his dark hair.

“Are you lost, pervert?” Clythia’s voice was weak.

“I knocked and you didn’t answer.” Modyr said, his eyes roaming over the pink blanket and then to her face. “I haven't intruded on anything private.”

“Thus you think it’s right to waltz in like it’s your castle?” Males. Unbelievable. The part of the brain where the logic of consent and privacy was supposed to operate had a loose screw. It didn’t surprise her anymore. She had seen it with Din, Tiyus, and the king who now eyed her with interest, Modyr. Well, if the third monster tried something, the second would deal with him. She had nothing to worry about.

“I expected more wrath from you.” Modyr cocked his head. Clythia didn’t dignify the bait with a response, when he realized that he continued. "What is going on with you lately?"

Clythia chuckled. “I know more hot and cold magical drinks, but none of them come close to you.”

“You have a tendency to scare people away,” Modyr leaned against the frame of the door.

“And an affinity to pull them back no matter what?” Clythia asked in a mocking tone. “I only asked to access the Shadow that made a lair of your home already. Pretending that it isn’t there doesn’t change the reality that it is.”

Modyr clenched his teeth subtly, a throb appearing on his sharp jawline.

If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it's taken without permission from the author. Report it.

“If that’s why you kept your distance from me, then by all means, settle at the edge of Zyvern like you already did.” Clythia closed her eyes, making a splash sound as she reshuffled, careful not to reveal her neck.

“I can’t.” The faerie king’s voice was barely audible, but she was certain she hadn’t imagined those words.

“Why not?”

“Do you remember when you asked me why I care about your life?” Modyr asked softly, the gentleness in his voice prompting her to open her eyes. “It is because we are tied.”

“By what?” Clythia’s mind was already numb; she didn’t want to acknowledge what he was talking about and hoped he meant something else than what it indicated.

“Fate.”

A laugh rolled out of her throat in succession, one after the other, until her eyes watered. “I speak the truth,” the faerie king asserted, but that only made her laugh harder.

Modyr began to walk towards her, reducing her laughter to a smirk. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

“Do you think I would force you to do something that you don’t want to do? I am not sick,” Modyr said, halting, then sitting by the edge of the tub. “You will be with me willingly, once you accept the mating bond. You know I’m right because you feel like I do.”

“I feel nothing.” Clythia masked her face blank. It was the truth; the faerie king had been flirting with her until she chased him away by saying gruesome things about murdering a child. But that didn’t seem to keep him away from her, as Vina claimed he spent their dining times gawking at her.

“You are lying.” Modyr smirked. He was a fool to think he was winning this conversation, and it took him a few seconds after that to see she was speaking true. First, fury marked his face, then horror. “How is that possible? Did you dull the bond’s power by your vile witchcraft? That’s an abomination. Rejecting fate is the worst of sins. If you were my subject, your punishment would have been brutal.”

“Thank Ilyana that I’m not your subject,” Clythia said calmly, unnerved by the steaming king of the faeries.

“What have I done to you to make you reject me?” Modyr’s voice hitched as he rubbed his forehead. “You couldn’t even give me a chance to prove to you I am worthy of your hand.”

“Do you know how ridiculous you sound?” Clythia snorted. “I didn’t even know such a bond between us existed until now.”

“You are lying,” he said, shaking his head and pointing at her.

“Why would I?” Clythia’s shoulders bobbed above the bubbles. “I have pushed you away deliberately by soiling my reputation. If I truly cared about what you think, I would have lied. But you and I both know I don’t.”

The faerie king went still at that, as still as a statue. Vampires usually took the spotlight for being eerie, but faeries weren’t far behind. She had begun to enjoy the silence that ensued when he interrupted with, “You don’t know what you are saying is truly impossible. There’s something wrong with you.” The charm of the gentleman was discarded, it seemed. Now came his true colors. “You possess a curse powerful enough to dampen the bond of fate to nil.”

Clythia had a theory about that. She couldn’t be lured by other Evils because of Tiyus. He was also the reason the faerie king was left dumbfounded before her. But faerie males who had rejected bonds were very unpredictable and feral. It would force them to tap into their animalistic instincts, and they wouldn’t balk at the idea of committing atrocities to make the female theirs.

Clythia blew out a sigh. Even if she managed to get out of Tiyus’ claws, the faerie king would simply take his place. But she wasn’t a simpleton; she was the most powerful witch in Zyvern, and she could handle him.

Modyr darted towards her.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

He halted, an inch from her nose, kneeling. “Do what?” If Clythia made a slight move, their lips would brush.

But it was all like watching a fire crackle brightly, transforming logs to cinders but not feeling the heat.

A knock came at the door. “My queen, it’s Casarda.”

“Come in,” Clythia said, to Modyr’s dismay. He gave her a look that suggested they weren’t done yet.

It wasn’t as if she was trying to be at odds with the rulers, but here she was, colliding with their interests and making an enemy of all of them. Would she be forced to lean on Tiyus’ protection against them all? Would she stop fighting—if she had even begun—for her freedom to keep the others at bay? What if they united against her?

But that was unlikely. If the rest knew what she had gotten herself into and what Kay was, they would turn against them, and she would find herself allying with unpleasant company. However, did Kay need her? Not really. She had a feeling he possessed power and knowledge surpassing all the other rulers, including her, combined.

“My queen?” Casarda’s voice pulled her out of her thoughts. She looked at the Lady of Spies, who was feigning false concern. “That’s the fourth time I’ve called your name. Are you all right?”

“What do you want?” Clythia asked. She was about to get out of the tub but quickly remembered why she couldn’t raise an inch in Casarda’s presence.

“It is almost noon, and lunch will be served soon.”

It was about time to lead the vampire king to his demise. Thanks to the faerie king, Clythia hadn’t even had time to concoct how she was going to manage that. She needed to act soon.

“Why? Is there something special on the menu?” Clythia cocked an eyebrow.

“The usual porridge and beans,” Casarda said, disgusted. “We have to get out of this place as soon as possible. I'll never set my eyes on those atrocities ever again.”

“Do you have any news for me?”

“I heard the locals talk about the clashing sides. There are angels who are against his rule, said to be allies of the Shadow, and his supporters.”

“His?” Clythia hissed. “It’s a he? You know who he is?”

This was progress. Clythia didn’t trust her own spymaster, but if she knew something, she would extract it from her, even if she had to split her jaw to do so.

“I don’t know who he is, my queen,” Casarda shook her head, her hands resting on the sheer fabric that wasn’t doing much to cover her thighs. “But he knows we are here.”

“Why is he quiet?” Clythia asked, wanting to see what answer the spy might offer from her perspective.

“We are in the lion’s den. The predator can visit its prey whenever it wishes,” Casarda said, as though she were talking about the weather.

“That doesn’t bother you?” Clythia narrowed her eyes.

The Lady of Melop tossed her golden hair back. “We have always been under the Sovereign’s whim. A ‘he’ or a ‘she,’ it doesn’t matter. Those on top are always on top, and we are at their mercy. We have come here to seek answers, and we don’t have any choice but to deal with the consequences of intruding on the lion’s territory.”

Casarda was right, at surface level. But the weight behind her words about being at the mercy of those on top—she wasn’t only speaking of the Sovereigns but also of her, Clythia. The Lady of Spies was accusing her of executing her mother and subtly pointing out her powerlessness as someone below her. But unlike Vina’s abrasive method, the spymaster was subtle about it.

Clythia knew better than to expect Casarda to reveal more about the Sovereign, and hinting at the gender was also a calculated move. The Lady of Spies was obviously playing her own game. But Clythia had more pressing issues at hand than dealing with her spymaster right now—like finding the Sovereign, whether previous or current, anything that would pull her out of the shackle she had trapped herself in.

Clythia dismissed Casarda. Once the Lady of Spies left and closed the door behind her, Clythia cleansed the soap off herself and began changing as her mind wandered to her conversation with Tiyus’ follower.

That croon had warned her against asking around about the previous Sovereign’s whereabouts; it seemed they didn’t want him to know they were searching for her. Ilyana knew why Tiyus wanted Clythia to destroy her. That would definitely ensure the Shadow’s supremacy, but was it somehow related to the current Sovereign? And why did the current Sovereign keep her captive? He must still want her for something, and destroying her would hinder his needs from being met.

One thing that also bugged her about Tiyus and Kay was that after Kay attacked her, it was Tiyus who ‘saved’ her, if that was what she could call it. It seemed there was a conflict of interests between host and possessing entity. Did Kay have any part in the Sovereign's matter? How did he even get his powers—was it Tiyus or something else?

If it weren’t for Tiyus’ coercion and her son’s life hanging in the balance, she would have let this situation untangle itself on its own. Because it was one of those wheels of events that kept turning whether anyone was actively holding the reins or not.