Solar Reign

I I I

STEEPLED HANDS rested on the table. A tense guard stood at the faraway entryway, arms crossed. The singe of power sizzled in the air.

"What you've presented here today isn't really enough for me to consider those actions," the voice said, dark and slow. There was a lilt in his voice, foreign and unexpected. The scrape of his voice caused a shiver to race down Roseria's spine as she sat there, hands in her lap.

"I don't think you're seeing the magnitude of what has just happened in Anlithamy," the pink haired fae countered. She didn't fidget under the burning gaze of the man that sat across from her, even if she wanted to. She didn't yet feel as though she had made a mistake coming all of this way, but it was creeping up behind her, whispering in her ear: you shouldn't have traveled here.

"I am very aware of the Queen's coronation." The man was not surprised. Nor was he particularly interested in this conversation. "I told you that I am not concerned with whatever happens in your country."

Roseria felt anger on her tongue, and she swallowed it. She could feel the invisible noose tighten around her neck, and she struggled for a moment to breathe. A dull burning had already been invading her chest, but this was harder to ignore.

"What if I told you I had something you want?"

The man leaned forward, his steepled hands flattening on the table. For a long moment, he stared at Roseria, just taking her in. The silence felt thick in the room, and Roseria felt trapped in his gaze.

Then, the man pushed out of his seat and stood. He looked behind Roseria to his guard. "See our guest out." His voice held a hint of punishment, and Roseria scrambled, seeing her chance slipping through her fingers. We need him, she frantically thought to herself as she also stood up.

"Wait!" She cried. "I need your help with the Deathwringer. And you're the only one who has connections to him. I'm desperate."

"I can see that." The fae across from Roseria was tall, imposing, and terrifying. He slipped his hands into his pockets, raising an eyebrow at her. "Unlike the country of Anlithamy, I do not take kindly to guests stopping by and telling me what to do. Your Queen, as young as she is, may be different. Enjoy your evening."

As he turned away from her, Roseria choked on the magic in the room. He was dismissing her, and she could afford that. "I have the Flayre!"

The man froze. The guard at the door froze. The distinct smell of smoke permeated the air, enough that Roseria glanced around, expecting to find fire. Her heart slammed against her chest as the man across from her slowly turned, eyes expectant.

"How?"

"The Rabium Bellua has been resurrected."

Another beat of tense silence followed before the man extended his hand to Roseria, sweeping it across the table. "Then take a seat."

Relief was fleeting as Roseria sat in the chair, her mind feeling foggy from the near terror of losing this opportunity. Death was a ticking time bomb on her wrist and she was already nearing the end. She shifted in the chair, trying to find comfort. "The Rabium Bellua lives in our Queen. The Flayre has been mastered by her."

The fae across from her didn't flinch like Roseria thought he might. He was calm and collected as a King should be, yet Roseria felt unnerved by it. Blakeley, despite his similar disposition as leader, had always been a bumbling idiot in Roseria's eyes. But this man, he wasn't a pawn or a chess piece she could move to get her way.

"Where is the proof? Your Queen does not appear mad."

"I saw her murder with my own eyes. Saw her set fire to the land. Saw her succumb to the Rabium Bellua."

The man shook his head. "I murder every day. Queen's murder as well. And it is my understanding that Queen Andorra is a Sun Fae, is she not? Fire is her affinity."

Anger was bitter in her throat. "You would have had to watch it happen to understand. And she rides the Flayre like her personal Rali. Are you willing to take the chance of letting the Rabium Bellua rule over a neighboring country?"

The King stood once again. He nodded to his guard at the door. "Is this fear mongering?"

Roseria stood as well, her hands pressed against the table. Sweat trickled against her forehead. "No. This is telling you that I know where the flayre resides, and you want that. I need the Deathwringer's help. We could do this for each other."

The King let out a dark laugh. When he twirled his fingers in a wrap it up motion, the guard behind Roseira stepped forward. "Does your Queen know you're trying to have her killed?"

"Anlithamy is going to burn. Without your help, the Rabium Bellua is going to ruin our realm once again."

Roseria felt the guard at her back. Oh, how simple things had been with Blakeley and Anders. Things hadn't been good, but they hadn't been bad, either. Death had not been at her door, ringing the bell, forcing its way in regardless if you answered.

"The Rabium Bellua will not be a threat to us. Not this time around. But thank you for alerting me to where the flayre resides. Perhaps this meeting was useful, afterall."

Before the guard could grab Roseria, she slipped into the inbetween, her heart racing in her chest. Dread coated her mouth and gripped her chest tight. "Shit," she cursed to herself in the inbetween. "Shit." She had ruined everything, and for what? A pinch of panic? A moment of desperation?

She ran a frustrated hand through her hair. If Blakeley were still here, he would have throttled her for that move. For not cinching the deal. For letting precious information slip out of her grasp. She clenched her hands into fists, thinking of her next move.

Andorra would not be Queen, not if Roseria could help it. And if her blood contract was to be believed, time was running out for her. "This is a fucking mess." Roseria was right about that. And Andorra was thinking the same thing, miles away, ankles deep in her own trouble.