All That Falls

17 A Halfling and A Cursed King

"Casseiopia. Why am I not surprised?"

"Father, please. Just listen."

They were already talking before I could even right myself. I stumbled sideways, reaching out blindly and finding a table to brace myself upon. Once the room stopped spinning, I looked up from where I leaned against an enormous mass of obsidian molded into the shape of a dining table to find Cass, with arms outstretched, imploring a middle-aged man with salt and pepper hair and immaculate thick eyebrows. I fought the nausea roiling in my gut to stand up straighter and keep my mouth shut, as instructed.

"Your sister told me you'd go to him," the man said in a tone that seemed utterly exhausted. "That you'd help him find his way back somehow."

"I didn't," Cass argued. "I didn't help him back, father. He called me when he was back and I went to him. Of course I did. But I didn't break the banishment. I didn't bring him back. But father, please—"

"Forty more years, Casseiopia. That's all he needed to stay away for. Forty more years and his sentence would have been up. He could have returned to open arms and welcoming embraces."

"A welcoming embrace. Is that what you call Ursa trying to slit his throat?"

Her father frowned.

"I can't control the succession," he muttered, glancing around as if looking for a seat. He found one at the dining table by which I stood, his eyes flashing over me with disinterest before settling in the chair at the head of the table.

"What succession?" Cass bellowed, throwing her arms up in annoyance as she strode forward and he sat down. "You're here. You're alive. There is no throne to ascend to, no succession to take place."

"Not yet."

Cass stilled, halting mid stride in the center of the room. Her father's frown deepened and she resumed her walk until she stood beside him again.

"What do you mean?" She asked, her tone lowering.

His eyes slid to me.

"Who is your friend, Casseiopia?" He asked, shrewd gaze examining me from head to toe.

"This is Ren," Cass introduced simply, with no further explanation. But that did not satisfy the King . He raised a brow and she sighed. "Lark brought her with him from the mortal realm."

The King slammed his hand on the table.

"See?" He bellowed, pointing a finger at his daughter, jaw clenched in a way that reminded me of his son. "He goes too far! Always too far. I told you. I—"

"She is Ariadne's daughter."

He faltered, finger dropping as he turned to face me with fresh interest.

"Half Fae," he muttered, jaw slackened.

"Welcome here," Cass said as if in reminder. "By your own decree."

He blinked at me, lips still parted in surprise.

"Yes, yes," he agreed, waving his daughter off and pointing, instead, at me. "The last I saw you, you were but a babe. How old are you now?"

"Sixty," I told him.

"Sixty," he repeated, taking me in again, no doubt examining my appearance, the way I looked nineteen or twenty. "Fascinating."

"It's a real head scratcher," Cass said then, obviously irritated at the change in the course of the conversation. "But father, about Lark—"

"Canis."

"Yes, Canis."

"I always hated that Lark business. Doubtlessly, he came by that wretched name from those boys he was always hanging around with. The ones I banished too."