The Siege of Shadows: Book one

Rule Through Fear (39)

The halls of the castle were cold, the stone walls echoing the soft clatter of our footsteps as Kael led me down the winding corridors. The air was thick with anticipation, the tension palpable even in the silence between us. I had no idea what I was walking into, but I could feel the weight of the moment pressing down on us.

Kael's hand brushed lightly against mine as we walked, a brief touch that I knew was meant to comfort me, to offer some sense of safety in a world that had begun to feel anything but secure. He didn't say anything, and neither did I. There was no need to. His presence, solid and steady, was enough.

We reached the throne room, where the murmurs of the courtiers could be heard from outside the doors. Kael pushed open the heavy double doors, and we entered. Instantly, the room fell into a hushed buzz of whispers and gossip.

The tension in the throne room was suffocating, the air thick with whispered gossip and the quiet rustle of silk as the courtiers shifted uneasily in their seats. The once-glittering court was now a place of silent unease, filled with people too proud to show their discomfort but unable to hide it.

The conversation swirled around me, louder and more desperate, as I stood beside Kael at the back of the room, my pulse racing with every passing second. I barely noticed the occasional sidelong glances sent in my direction or the murmurs that followed me—until the words began to sink in.

One woman, her voice tinged with bitter frustration, leaned toward her neighbor and whispered, "Did you hear? Some of the servants, the ones who work the kitchens, the ones who clean... they're all halfbreeds. The king's bastards, I'd wager. They've been given positions of privilege here—special treatment, like they belong. The audacity of it."

The other woman's face twisted into something between disgust and resignation. "Halfbreeds," she hissed, as if the word itself burned her tongue. "Not fit to serve us, yet here they are, living amongst us, as if they're more than just... that."

I felt a flicker of unease stir deep inside me. My eyes swept over the room, and for the first time, I began to notice the details I had missed earlier—the servants moving through the room, their half-human features barely concealed beneath their hoods or uniforms. They were careful to stay out of sight, their gazes lowered, but I saw them. And I realized that this wasn't just a coincidence. This wasn't just a question of blending in.

It was about blood. Halfbreeds. It wasn't just a cruel word—it was the reality of the court. And I felt it like a weight on my chest, the very air around me seeming to tighten with the unspoken truths hanging in the space between the whispers.

As the conversation continued to spiral, one of the men, an older lord, shook his head, his face grim. "The spirits are gone, the World Tree is dying, and no one can even bear children anymore. Not even the pureblooded Seelie. Ladies who've been trying for years to conceive—nothing. Nothing but heartbreak."

I caught the glance of a young woman across the room, her lips pressed into a thin line, eyes narrowed as she spoke to another lady beside her. "They've all resorted to it now, haven't they? Taking human lovers. The only way they can have a child—halfbreeds, of course. But at least they'll have a chance at a child."

Her words stung in the air, the bitterness sharp, and my stomach twisted in discomfort. These women, once proud of their Seelie blood, now found themselves forced to the desperate lengths of sleeping with humans—halfbreeds—in hopes of a child. Their desperation clung to the room like smoke, suffocating in its hopelessness.

Another voice, this time a man's, cut through the noise. "And now look at us. The servants in this castle? Most of them are halfbreeds, probably the result of some human's affair with a Seelie noble. And we're all expected to pretend it's fine. These are the future of the court? Halfbloods everywhere, and we're meant to accept it?"