King of Merits: A Fae Romance (Black Blood Fae Book 3)
King of Merits: Chapter 17

Merri

For two days, I’ve done nothing but languish in the dead queen’s chambers—which sounds creepy and morbid but is, in fact, the furthest thing from it.

Queen Ciara’s four interlinking rooms are enormous, bedecked in opulent gold and royal blue, and contain an overabundance of lush furniture from which to enjoy the view of the Obsidian Sea through the balcony windows. Resting here, waited on by Merit servants as though I’m on vacation, as the humans call a respite from their work, hasn’t been a hardship at all.

Since Riven refuses to see me, and Lidwinia insists I delay my tour of the city until she can accompany me after tonight’s banquet celebrating her engagement to the court’s technomancer, I’ve had little to do but bide my time.

The Merit princess claims her brother is a danger to me at present. It will pass, she says, yet refuses to explain why. I have no choice but to trust her—she’s fae and cannot lie, so she must believe it’s not safe for me to be alone with the king for now.

By the time Riven left my land, I believed we’d developed a fragile, burgeoning friendship. But two nights ago in the forest, when he realized who I was, his chilly reception couldn’t have made me feel less welcome. So, it seems he despises me—which only makes me determined to replace out why.

I rock back on my heels, returning my focus to the dressmaker’s tower where I stand on a vermilion, ivy-wrapped platform, frowning and huffing as I’m fitted into an outfit of Merit finery for tonight’s banquet.

“Stop moving,” chides Lidwinia. “You’ll ruin the fit.”

“Really, Lidwinia, I’m truly grateful for the effort, but this is unnecessary. I brought a gown with me. It’ll do fine.”

The princess sighs. “Take a break, Sartornalia,” she tells the light-weaver elf who’s been working hard with both magic and thread. “I need privacy to admonish Princess Merrin for spoiling all our fun today.”

Collecting scraps of cloth as she goes, the elf retreats through an archway and down a winding staircase.

Lidwinia ruffles the layers of my gown, an unusual combination of variegated-green strips of gossamer material and stiff metallic panels woven in bright strands of silver that match my eyes.

“This dress couldn’t be more perfect for you, Merri. You look like an empress.” Rothlo scuttles from Lidwinia’s shoulder to her hand, the spider’s numerous emerald eyes inspecting my gown. I hope she approves.

It’s difficult to believe this is the same enormous creature Lidwinia rode to the Lowlands, but she assures me this golden-legged critter is one and the same.

“If I resemble an empress, then it’s a barely dressed one,” I say, swishing the dreamy fabric around my legs. “It doesn’t leave much to the imagination. One glance and the viewer sees all.”

“Come now, don’t be so prudish.” The princess laughs. “Seelie fashion is hardly neck-to-toe sacking.”

“I’m more comfortable wearing something simple,” I grumble.

“Such as hunting leathers? That’s what Riven said about you, too.”

Riven? Why would he deign to voice an opinion on my preferred style of clothing?

The dressmaker’s room occupies the entire top section of a Merit tower. Round with six arched floor-to-ceiling windows that allow afternoon sunshine and a refreshing breeze to dance through the space, it has spectacular views.

The window I face displays the black and white towers that pierce the sky from the middle of the ocean, linked to the land by a spiked-metal footbridge bisecting between them. From my chambers, I can see these fascinating towers, and I’ve spent hours contemplating their transitory nature.

“Why do the towers disappear and reappear like that?” I ask. “Are they real or mere illusions?”

Lidwinia snaps her tiger eyes from my gown to my face. “They’re quite real and will show themselves when necessary.”

“But who controls them?”

“The towers? They’re my mother’s creations. She controls them.”

“But she’s…deceased,” I say, immediately regretting my words as sorrow shrouds Lidwinia’s features.

“Sadly, yes. Mostly.”

“Mostly? What do you mean?”

“At my father’s request, our High Mage, Draírdon, used the darkest of magic to bind her spirit to the towers, hoping to suspend her in eternal torture. Unlike the old king and my brother, Temnen, Mother was a sweet soul, and she resonates with the bright energy of the White Tower. It is mainly there that her consciousness resides.”

“How cruel your father was.”

Green spikes of hair writhe like baby serpents as she tilts her head. “Yes, but his plan to cause her endless pain failed. Riven and I often visit, and we know she receives great comfort in this. Also, she can sense the true essence of any being who enters the tower and accommodates them accordingly. The atmosphere, lighting, and warmth all adjust to the guest’s intrinsic nature, ensuring they’re treated exactly as they deserve.”

I hop down from the platform and walk to a window. As I lean on the stone sill and scrutinize the towers in the sea, they flicker like a dream. “Is that why you suggested I should be housed there when I arrived? So you could test me.”

“Yes,” she admits. “But instead my brother decided to place you in my mother’s old room. Interesting choice, no? He refuses to answer questions about why he’s done this, but I suspect he didn’t want you to be judged or found lacking in any way.”

“Your brother is strange indeed. If he’s a danger to me, as you say, then why would he care?”

She laughs through her nose. “I think this dress might change his position in regards to you.”

My pulse beats slow and hard, my thoughts spinning and crashing in a terrible muddle. I turn to face Lidwinia. “Isla was kept in the White Tower.”

“Correct. And for this reason, Elas and I knew we could trust her and should help her and Rafael escape.”

“Because your mother liked her,” I say.

Lidwinia nods, and I recall Isla’s tales of the floating lambent lights, the hearth that lit its own fire, and the sweetly scented bath water that was filled and heated by unseen hands.

A thin black tongue flickers between Lidwinia’s teeth as she smiles at me. “Your current queen’s heart was deemed pure, and my mother liked her very well. Of course, when I heard Isla had captured Riven, I thought perhaps ruling a kingdom had corrupted her. But the unknown being who felled our king and the banished Kian were the real problems, not you. You, I trust, Merri.”

“Why?”

“Because Riven does, even though he acts as if he doesn’t. Deep down, he trusts you.”

“Surely not! He should just put me in the White Tower, let your mother be the judge. Maybe then he’ll grant me an audience. Even the night I arrived, in the forest, he could barely look at me.”

She smooths her purple-patterned finger down my dress’s plunging neckline to where it ends at my last rib. “Do not worry. This dress should rectify that. I predict his gaze will fall upon you many times tonight, and if you wish to save him from a life of misery, the first step is to not reject his attention.”

“But as I explained yesterday, my dreams foretell that I’ll save his life. His state of happiness is of no interest to me.” That’s not entirely true, and I steel my features against a small grimace of pain that never comes. Interesting. My body thinks I care about the Merit king.

“That remains to be seen. Either way, you look lovely, Merri,” she says, guiding me toward one of the long, mirrored panels that line the walls between the window arches. “See?”

The mirrors reflect my image a thousand times over as I circle the room, studying my outfit. Do I wish to capture Riven’s attention and have him replace me—a halfling who entertains notions of being a king’s savior—perhaps lacking in some way? Excitement and fear shiver down my spine.

“This will do nicely. Thank you, Lidwinia. I must admit it’s an improvement on my hunting outfits.”

Laughing, she strides over to an ornate crystal cabinet that rests against the opposite wall on a stepped dais wrapped in jade and ivy. “I know something that would perfectly match your coloring and gown.” She takes a key from the pocket of her metal-studded corset and opens the cabinet door, retrieving a tall crown of dark, glittering spikes.

“Wow. What material is it made from?”

“Meteoric silver.”

I fail to contain a loud gasp as she places the crown on my head. I stare at myself in the glass as my hand shakes, touching a spike with great care. This is the crown I saw in the vision in Ether’s sitting room on the night she opened the portal.

“Who does this belong to?” I ask.

“It was our queen’s.”

My jaw drops further, my blood roaring in my ears. “But—”

“Of course you cannot wear it this evening. I was merely curious to see how it looked on you, and the answer is very, very well. Almost as if it were fashioned for you alone, Merri.”

A resounding knock startles me.

Lidwinia turns toward the door. “Ah, that will be your maid come to return you to your chambers. She’s eager to apply Merit designs to that lovely long hair of yours. And after a couple more adjustments are made, the dress will be brought to you this afternoon. Now run along. You should rest before your official introduction to our court. Every member will be interested in making your acquaintance. And since it’s my betrothal banquet, Riven has no choice but to play nice tonight.”

I arch a disbelieving eyebrow, and she barks out a laugh, making Rothlo run for cover under her corset’s pointed collar.

With deft movements, I redress in my soft tunic and pants, and then return to my rooms with my maid, Alina, wild butterflies dancing in my stomach.

Tonight, I’ll see Riven again.

And I hope he doesn’t kill me.