Beneath Shadows and Secrets

♔ 𝕱𝔬𝔯𝔱𝔶 - 𝕿𝔥𝔯𝔢𝔢 ♔

The throne is empty, as promised. Available for me. I study it intently, running my hands across the twisted metal framework, as black as midnight, and the soft cushioning of the seat and backrest. It seems almost too large for me when I lower myself on it, raising higher than my head, and offering too much room to either side of me.

I fumble with my arms, not sure where to place them. It feels odd when I stretch them to lay over the armrests, and at my side, I imagine I look as uncomfortable as I feel.

With little other option to me, I ready to consider this a bad idea, until I remember the way Libitina acted as though she owned the throne she once sat in at the Winter Solstice. How she lazed in it, as though it was not a privilege to her. Calix sits a similar way, as though it is not the seat that is grand, but him.

I shuffle further back, slouching to the left, folding my arm and laying it over the armrest. My legs stretch to the right, one over the other. The throne supports my posture, allowing me to relax into the seat until I do not feel out of place at all. Until it is as though I deserve to be sat here.

I do. I am Queen Daenira, and if I wish it so, every throne will be mine.

None of us speak as we wait. The stillness is unsettling, so unlike the Court that has come to relax around me. It reminds me of the day I arrived here, and how unwanted my presence was. Except now, I have become one of them, a member of this place, and it is Ezekiel who we wait for.

He will never be accepted here as I was.

When the door opens, my breath catches with trepidation. I school my features, watching as she shadowed figure takes form.

Ezekiel is not the Fae I remember. He has waned, his hair limp and knotted, his eyes dull, the usual smirk on his face nowhere to be seen.

He looks as though something is eating him alive, and though I do not know what it is – guilt, illness, burden – I cannot say it does not fill me with something like satisfaction. For no other reason than knowing that I looked even worse than he in the first few weeks following my transition, and he did not apologise for being the cause of it. I am glad to see it is he suffering now, and no longer me.

"Where is he, then?" I ask. Though my blood thrums with anxiety, I am glad my voice does not betray me, remaining clear and steady. "I would have thought if he was so eager to have me back, he would not have sent a lackey to come and collect me."

Libitina hums with light amusement beside me, and it takes all my focus to keep my eyes on Ezekiel. He fidgets with discomfort, passing a glance at his feet. "I requested to come alone. I do not want animosity, and I figured that if he were to come here, there would be nothing but that."

"That is a very clever deduction on your part," I return, forcing a smile on my lips.

Ezekiel sighs. "He will come, Nira, if you do not return with me. I cannot stop him from doing that." Dread skates down my spine. I know there is truth to that, and I know that if Zaire does come here, it will not be a meeting as placated as this.

"No, I know. But you should know that it will not end well for him if he tries." I am sure he flinches from my words alone. He needn't; I am capable of far worse than implicit threats and sworn promises. "If that is all, you can leave now."

"Please, consider. Zaire knows now that he was wrong to restrain you, and that this time he will do better. I will not let him hurt you again." He takes a step closer, and those at my side are quick to deny him the privilege. One bat of Tynan's wings, and he is on the floor beside Ezekiel, growling with warning. Libitina has braced for attack on my right, and the shadows of Calix whip the air on my left.