Curse of the Fae King

The boy’s naming day had arrived at long last. Kalanthami
perched on her throne beside King Maddoc atop the dais,
looking out at the gathering crowd as she cradled her son. The
six-month-old child squirmed, trying to reach his toes. Kalanthami’s
heart swelled as she watched him, her joy reflected in her
eyes. She pulled her son closer and kissed the top of his head,
causing him to look up at her with those bright blue eyes so vibrant
against the brown of his skin and hair.He took after his father
in most ways, but the eyes, they were a reflection of her own.
He was a perfect amalgamation of both parents. A living, breathing
symbol of their love and devotion to one another.
Kalanthami couldn’t remember a time she was this happy. In
fact, she had trouble remembering anything in detail frombefore
arriving in Faymere. Sometimes she caught snippets, or glimpses
of her past, other times she had full on visions, but couldn’t remember
the names of the people in them. It had concerned her
at first, this fading of her life. Even the warning from Chan-
tria—her friend who crossed the Veil with her—that it would
happen wasn’t enough to quell the racing of her heart when
she woke up one morning and couldn’t remember her parents’
names. Their faces appeared clear as day before her, but no matter
how hard she tried, their names escaped her. It was Maddoc
who helped her through the worst of it. Sitting with her long into
the night while she told him every single detail she could remember
about her life before it was gone. He was now a living
record of her life, and was able to answer many of her questions
when a detail failed to materialize in her mind.Most importantly,
however, he helped hermake new memories; giving her something
to live for when it felt like her self was disappearing.
Two chubby hands reached up, trying to clasp her crown.
He was a little crow, her son, drawn in by shiny objects. “You’ll
have one of your own soon enough, my love.” She kissed him
again before reaching up a hand to straighten her crown. His
bottom lip quivered and she felt a dagger plunge through her
heart. How could such a small movement from such a tiny person
elicit this strong a reaction in her? A desperation to soothe
him took root in her chest and she deftly pried her pearl hair
comb from among her blonde curls. It was hidden by the crown
anyway, so it wouldn’t be missed.
Kalanthami danced it back and forth before his face until his
eyes focused on the bright red flower nestled between two silver
wings and followed the movements. Zooming the comb in close
to his face, she bopped himon the nose, gasping and opening her
eyes wide. Pulling the comb away, she repeated the game, gasping
again when it touched his nose. Soon enough a smile tugged
at his cheeks and her racing heart settled once more like a loyal
companion in her chest.
Denizens continued to trickle into the Throne Room,
dressed in all sorts of finery for the formal announcement of the
prince’s naming; a dull hum filling the air. Humans had a tradition
of naming their children almost immediately following
their birth. Her people had a different one—at least that’s what
Maddoc told her. It still set her heart pumping when she tried
to retrieve a particular piece of information about her past, only
to find it missing. Like a lockbox of her person was slowly being
robbed and she was powerless to stop it. Every day she opened
the lid and the contents were a little sparser.Maddoc had guarded
one vital piece of information for her; a name. Maddoc suggested
they combine their two cultures. Since Kalanthami held
one male name close to her heart, they decided to use it, for it
would help keep it alive for her even though she would forget
the person to whom it belonged. They would keep the name between
them until the baby reached six months, at which time
they would reveal him to the rest of the world as her people did.
Anyone and everyone who mattered came from miles
around to meet the new prince. Some came many days ride to
offer their respects to the little bundle tucked safely in her arms.
With Maddoc’s parents both passing away young, the birth of
a child—particularly a son—was a great gift to the people of
Faymere, solidifying the family rule for another generation.
Kalanthami smiled at her son. Somuch responsibility on the
shoulders of such a tiny being. If she’d ever been able to relate,
she no longer remembered. The memories flew away faster each
day. One more reason, she thought, to make all the new memories
with her new family that she possibly could.
A soft touch on the armbrought her back to the present moment
and the throngs of people standing before her in the richly
decorated Throne Room. Everywhere she looked, her eyes met
with golds and purples. A plush carpet led from the grand double
doors to the foot of the dais, which itself was surrounded
at four corners with pillars wrapped in purple taffeta streamers
edged in gold. Similar embellishments hung from the ceiling,
and each bench had been reupholstered in the colours of the
event. Beside her, Maddoc, his eyes kind and his smile gentle,
asked her if she was ready. She nodded, and they stood in unison
as a hush washed over the crowd like a wave, beginning at the
front and flowing backward. The high nobles and visiting dignitaries
were all stationed close, their silks and jewels sparkling in
the early afternoon sunlight; mingling with the rich adornments
all around them.
All eyes stayed riveted on them as they strode forward.
Kalanthami’s long robes tickled her ankles as she moved. Reaching
the edge of dais,Maddoc raised both his hands but the room
had already fallen silent. “Good day to you all,” his voice boomed
loud and strong through the expansive hall, reaching the back
with little effort. “Thank you everyone for coming to celebrate
the birth of our child. It is our pleasure to introduce him to
you today.” At the word him a small murmur rippled through
the onlookers. “And to add to the line of succession, strengthening
Faymere for years to come.” He shot a sly grin at Kalanthami,
the twinkle in his eyes setting her heart thundering in her
chest. “We hope he is the first of many.” Gentle laughter floated
towards her and she couldn’t help the blush that heated her
cheeks.Maddoc placed a firm hand on the small of her back and
she turned, handing the baby to him. He took the boy in his
arms, eyes alight. Shifting the boy so he faced the crowd,Maddoc
raised his voice once again. “I present to everyone, our son, Silas
Doughton, Prince and heir apparent of Faymere.” He lifted the
boy into the air so even those at the back of the hall might get a
glimpse of him.
A dull roar built among the crowd, quickly growing thunderous.
Prince Silas startled at the noise, his face scrunching up,
shifting to a beet red, before a loud wail burst from his lips.
Maddoc chuckled, then brought the boy close to his chest and
rubbed his back. A small whimper escaped Kalanthami and concern
marred her brow. Finger gently stroking her son’s cheek, she
attempted to calm him alongside her husband.
Aman dressed in a smartly cut gold uniformapproached the
dais. She recognized him immediately, Keiryn, one of Maddoc’s
Shieldmen. A nudge from her directed Maddoc’s attention to
the man. He handed Silas to her, and she cradled the now calming
boy. “Gifts, Your Highness, yes. They would like to present
them to you.” She heard Keiryn say.
“How thoughtful.” Maddoc smiled, turning and beckoning
to her. She inched forward asKeiryn guided the first well wishers
towards them. Kalanthami hadn’t been in Faymere long enough
to remember all of her allies by sight. Thankfully, a woman assigned
to her by Maddoc, Amini, whispered names into her ear
as each person approached. Amini’s quill scribbled down a
record of names and gifts so the couple could formally thank
them. There were a few familiar faces in the crowd of course, and
Kalanthami felt her shoulders ease as those she knew strode forward.
King Edgar and Queen Hannah of Erebor among them;
cousins once removed of Maddoc. All three had grown up close
despite being raised in different kingdoms.Thedistance between
Faymere and Erebor could not keep these friends apart, so of
course Edgar and Hannah had already met Silas. In fact, the cou-
ple had found out shortly after arrival that Hannah was with
child; their first.
“If it’s a girl, we may have an alliance on our hands, Maddy,”
Edgar had boasted a few nights ago in Maddoc’s private study,
his fingers lovingly massaging the back of his wife’s neck.
“What wonderful news. Our children will be close in age.
We’ll have broods running around the palaces. Together, we may
even take over all of Pragalla through marriage and offspring
alone.” Maddoc laughed.
The men clinked cups and drank, but Kalanthami shrunk
deeper into the couch. Keen eyed Hannah noticed and placed a
soft hand on her husband’s knee, pulling gently from his grasp.
“We hope they’ll at least be good friends,” Hannah said directly
to Kalanthami, her brown eyes kind. Hannah and Edgar both
boasted the brown eyes of the Faymerian people, but Hannah
had straw coloured hair similar to Kalanthami’s, and Edgar a
light brown shade rarely seen in these parts. “Not all alliances are
throughmarriage. Look at us three.” Kalanthami sent her a grateful
smile and a nod.
Seeing the couple at her son’s Naming Day brought a genuine
smile to her face. He could certainly do worse than marrying
into the Delacourt family. Despite the relatively low number
of people Kalanthami knew, those she did had been welcoming
and open, but none more so than Edgar and Hannah. Hannah
had embroidered a baby blanket with Silas’ name on it, and
Edgar a writ to Silas when he was older to choose a single horse
from Erebor’s stables; renowned as they were for their breeding,
it was no small gift. The two kings clasped forearms and patted
each other affectionately on the back. Hannah offered a kiss to
both Kalanthami and Silas.Her son reached forHannah’s crown
as she went to pull away, causing the woman to laugh.
“Watch out for this one, Kala. He’s drawn to expensive
things.” Gently, she pried his chubby fingers lose.
“And beautiful women.” Kalanthami frowned, worried Silas
had offended the woman. But she needn’t have worried.Theother
woman’s tinkling laugh filled the space between them.
“Aim younger, my boy,” Hannah said with a twinkle in her
eye. Kalanthami smiled as the duo retreated to their seats.
The gift giving wore on long enough for the sun to travel
down the wall of the castle and through the far windows. The
dais stood piled high with gifts, and Kalanthami thought she finally
spotted the end of the line—her feet hoped so—when a
deafening rumble shook the very foundation where they stood.
A roar sounded outside moments before the throne room doors
burst open, a gust of wind sweeping in. A massive beast poked
its head into the room, large nostrils flaring as it breathed deeply
in and out, as though searching for a particular scent.Her hands
tightened instinctively around her son as one giant forepaw
stepped into the castle, followed by another. Folded golden
wings tucked tight to the creature’s back unfurled like pennants
once through the door, spreading out nearly the entire width of
the room. A lone figure sat upon the creature’s back, nearly indistinguishable
from the monster himself, clothed as he was in the
beast’s scales. As it approached the dais, the creature’s head swivelled
back and forth across the room, bulbous yellow eyes ever
searching as it continued down the carpet to the front of the hall.
The gold clad figure rose up on the creature’s back, adding
more height to their already tall vantage point. The being removed
its helmet to reveal a male of striking beauty; chiselled
jaw, piercing blue eyes and hair so blond it was nearly white. His
complexion matched Kalanthami’s so perfectly, she briefly wondered
if they were related. When his eyes bore no sign of recognition,
nor any signs of warmth, she abandoned the idea, taking
an involuntary step backwards.Maddoc guided her behind him,
but refrained from drawing a weapon. The king’s Shieldmen surrounded
them both, hands resting on sword hilts.
The man atop the beast spoke, though it was a language neither
Kalanthami nor Maddoc understood. Only one word registered.
Kalanthami. Maddoc stepped forward, motioning for
Kala to stay put. “To whom do I speak?” he demanded.
The man frowned, distaste written across every movement.
“I speak for Nesterin, King of the Amrynn Court. He is highly
distraught no one thought to extend him an invitation to his
nephew’s naming day. Such an exclusion among the fae is considered
a grave insult indeed.” The fae glanced from Kalanthami
down to Silas, bundled in her arms, then back to King Maddoc
when no one spoke. “I seek the traitor, Princess Kalanthami.
KingNesterin demands she return to Amrynn, or suffer the consequences.”
Shocked gasps and murmuring filtered up to them. Undeterred,
Maddoc confronted the man.
“Queen Kalanthami is under the protection of the Kingdom
of Faymere. And as our Queen, is due the respect of her station.
King Nesterin is in no position to make demands here,”Maddoc
said, standing tall but calm. Kalanthami admired his resolve, she
was practically quaking in her slippers.
The man studied Kalanthami for a long moment, eyes
squinted before turning back to Maddoc. “Are you King here,
Maddoc of Faymere?” the man sneered.
“I am,” Maddoc answered.
“And is it not the duty of the King to protect his people?”
The fae’s eyes narrowed and one side of his mouth twitched upward
in a sadistic sort of half smile. “A war with the Fae would
be a terrible burden to Faymere. All King Nesterin wants is the
woman. Give me Princess Kalanthami and we will leave you in
peace.”
“Queen Kalanthami is not going anywhere with you. She is
my wife and mother to my son. I will not simply hand her over.”
Maddoc gestured behind his back and two of the four Shieldmen
pressed closer to Kalanthami. “If King Nesterin has something
he wishes to discuss, he’s welcome to make an official request
for an audience.”
“Enough.” The fae sliced his hand in a downward motion,
eyes darting to where Kalanthami waited with Silas. “You will
present the princess before me immediately or your son will suffer.”
BeforeMaddoc could utter a single word, the great beast upon
which the fae rode shifted its weight drastically, dumping the
man from its back. The beast caught the man in mid air, like an
acrobat catching a tumbling pin, and pressed him to the ground
beneath his great claws. The beast glanced over his shoulder,
into the waiting crowd, as though searching for permission from
some hidden figure. When no one dared so much as breathe,
the beast turned back and unceremoniously ripped the fae’s head
from his body; tossing the remains aside like a sack of hay. Shock
raced through Kalanthami like lightening as she tried to process
what had just happened. The air in the Throne Room shifted as
the great beast turned its penetrating gaze upon the dais.

The sound of metal met the cloaked woman’s ears—even
tucked away as she was in the shadows—when the king and
his guards drew their weapons. It was a futile gesture. Their meagre
swords were no match for the ancient scales covering Konnagur’s
body. Hands grabbed for her, pushing her out of the way
as guests attempted to flee the blood-soaked scene. The air resonated
with their screams. She allowed herself to be propelled
backward, further into shadow and dark, though it obstructed
her view. Pulling her hood forward in an effort to keep her face
concealed, her eyes found their way back to the front of the
room and to the great beast that stood elbow deep in fae blood,
gaze riveted on the dais. No one moved on the creature, the one
she knew was King Konnagurliang of the Flyers, Konnagur to
the humanoids. His massive golden form blocked most of her
view of the king and queen, wings held at an odd angle. Though
it had been a few years since she’d last seen a dragon, she knew
King Konnagur.He was none too pleased with the development
before him, regardless of his hand in it.
The cloaked stranger inched closer to the dais, heart pounding
in her ears. It had been too much to hope that the child’s
ceremony would conclude with little fanfare. Too much to hope
that spiriting Kalanthami away to Faymere would protect her.
The last true heir to the AmrynnThrone should have been safe
across the Veil. She hadn’t accounted for the strength of the drag-
ons, or that they might align themselves with The Usurper, the
now King Nesterin.
Konnagur puffed out a breath and began speaking in the old
tongue. Not draconian, but the language of the fae. The stranger
stood transfixed, the words sounding strange as his draconian
mouth attempted to form them. It took her too long to make
sense of what he said in his foreign accent. Before it had fully
registered, Konnagur beat his powerful wings, propelling himself
into the air. The cloaked woman watched him rise, something
twisted taking root in her belly. She had a bad feeling about
this. Fingers deftly snatched a vial of red liquid from beneath her
cloak and she pressed her thumb against the cork, ready to open
it.
One, two beats of his wings, and she noticed something held
tight in his back claws. It looked like a blanket, simple blue fabric
embroidered with shining gold script. The stranger sucked
in a breath as realization dawned on her. Konnagur released the
fabric, and the cloaked figure watched in horror as the queen’s
hand instinctively reached out, poised to catch it. The blue fabric
fluttered through the air like a leaf on the wind, drifting down,
down, down, to rest in the hand of the Queen of Faymere.
“NO!” the cloaked figure screamed the moment fabric met
flesh and a boom filled the chamber, drowning out the shout. A
wave of energy shot outward fromthe queen to the far reaches of
the room, engulfing everyone in its path. Despite earlier hesitation,
the stranger lunged forward, falling to her knees in the after
shock.
A large draconian head turned at the sound of the cry; the
only one to do so. Everyone else stared in confusion and wideeyed
horror at the dais, where the fabric unraveled seemingly of
its own accord, before shooting out and wrapping itself around
both the queen’s torso, and the limbs and torso of the baby
prince. The king did his best to swipe the threads away, pulling
on them, trying to break them when they tightened, eliciting
a cry from the infant. But it was no use. The threads glowed a
deep ominous black, pulsing as they encircled the child completely,
before gradually fading into the prince’s skin and disappearing
within him. Likewise, the threads engulfing the queen also
glowed black, pulsing and dissolving within her.
Hood fallen back, her red hair now tumbled free past her
shoulders. The large yellow eyes of the dragon found her in the
crowd; their gazes locked. He appeared sad as they regarded one
another, but he simply bowed his head to her before turning and,
with two more beats of his powerful wings, propelled himself
out the door.
Murmurs and cries rose from the remaining crowd. Demands
to know what was said and what had been done to the
prince and queen. The queen stared, uncomprehendingly down
at her hands, now empty, then over to where her son cried in the
king’s arms. The fear in her eyes mirrored those of her husband
and ignited a fuse into the still waiting crowd.
When a second pair of eyes alighted on her—those of the
king—the figure felt sick, knowing her hesitation had sealed the
fate of the child. King Maddoc searched the stranger’s face for
answers, but she had none to give. Though she alone could understand
the words King Konnagur had spoken, there was nothing
she or anyone could do now.
The blanket was not a traditional gift from the Fae King,
but rather a curse faegifted to the young prince and his mother.
Her refusal to return through the Veil had turned the naming
day ceremony into one of mourning. For the curse etched by
the Fae King into the now unravelled blanket stated, Prince Silas
Doughton of Faymere would die on his twentieth birthday.