These threads that bind and tear *A dark fae fantasy- romance*

Chapter 5: The king's concubine

Aveline sat on a wooden stool as she picked at the food on the solid gold tray, the food looked strange to her, the fruit shades of pastels, some of them blending into a slight gradient of lighter colours, the meat was too supple it melted on her tongue too quickly, the water more refreshing, a single sip quenched her thirst. In the few hours between her conversation with the fae king he had left her alone to ponder what she was doing in here. She had laid on the makeshift bed, the soft fur tickling her arm as she looked up to the ceiling towering heigh above in a pyramid dome. The ceiling was bare of any golden threads bar her own that pulled at her arm is a strained weave of knots, she had concentrated hard, closing her eyes and trying to feel their guiding warmth, her fingers brushed the air only to come back empty. She was lost. Her head ached with concern. How do I find traitors without the gift he had bargained for? She wondered

She thought back to the symbols she had recognised from her the walls of her family's obituary. They were similar, more curved; intricate loops where they had not been back at home, but had the same flowing lines. She had traced the walls for years, their meaning lost after the centuries since they were etched into the hard walls. Perhaps there was a connection to the strange symbols on the papers or the crystals he sought held some significance. But the reality of her situation weighed heavily on her. Aveline felt like a pawn in a game she didn't understand, her every move scrutinized, her every word measured. The faint flicker of the torches cast elongated shadows against the tent walls, and she couldn't shake the feeling that even those shadows were watching her, as if the fae realm itself was alive and listening.

The chill in the tent seemed to seep into Aveline's very bones, despite the warmth from the brazier burning low in one corner. She sat hunched over the golden tray of food, her appetite dulled by the lingering tension from her earlier confrontation with the Fae King. The silence of the tent felt oppressive, broken only by the occasional groan of the wooden poles as the icy wind outside tried to force its way in. She picked absently at a piece of dark bread, its texture denser and slightly sweeter than she was used to. Even the food here seemed foreign, a reminder that she was far from home.

Aveline's eyes drifted to the papers scattered across the table. They were still there, untouched since the Fae King had caught her looking at them. The strange symbols danced in her mind, their patterns both familiar and utterly alien. She had tried to forget the way his gaze had burned into her earlier, the way his presence had commanded the room, but her thoughts kept circling back to him. Who was he truly? A tyrant? Or something far more dangerous—a force she could not yet name?

The distant sound of voices carried faintly through the night, their tone sharp and low. Aveline couldn't make out the words, but the tension in them was unmistakable. It was a reminder of where she was—the edge of Eldrithar, the Unseelie Winter Court. The fae king had told her they were on their way for a meeting before they returned home. She could feel the icy presence pressing in on her through the tent walls, a cold, forbidding expanse that whispered of hidden dangers and untold secrets. A shiver ran down her spine as she thought of what might lie beyond the safety of this camp.

She glanced again at the golden tray, pushing it away. The rich, spiced food tasted nothing like the simple meals she had grown up with, and she wasn't sure if it was the unfamiliarity or the tight knot in her stomach that made it unappetizing. Her fingers brushed against the heavy goblet beside the tray, its surface cold and unyielding. The Fae King's words lingered in her mind. You'll have your answers, but first, you must understand: there are consequences to everything.

Her jaw tightened as she considered the implication. He had power over her now, but she wasn't completely powerless. Her fingers flexed against the goblet, her mind racing. If this game was to be played, she would find a way to play it on her terms.