Taste of ecstasy

Chapter 40

Idris still slumbered beneath the early veil of fog when King Alexander sat alone in his private solar an antechamber carved from pearl-veined stone, illuminated by soft dawnlight. The room was silent, save for the rhythmic scrape of his quill against parchment and the occasional low crackle of the fire burning in the hearth. Golden rays poured across the floor, but Alec did not lift his head to greet the sun. Not this morning.

His thoughts were with Magnus still sleeping, bare feet tangled in linen, hand curled over his lower stomach with quiet instinct. The image was carved into Alec's mind, permanent, haunting. The child growing in Magnus's womb their child had changed everything. Not just between them. Not just within him. But for the kingdom. For Idris. For history. And danger had never felt more personal. Alec sat in his linen tunic, crown removed, his ink-stained fingers trembling only slightly as he reached for the thick vellum bearing the sigil of the Silent Brothers.

They had always been watchers. Keepers. The solemn, hooded guardians of truth and time sworn to protect the Mortal Instruments, yes, but more than that: entrusted with the bones of the world. Knowledge few dared seek. Silence that had teeth. He dipped the quill in fresh ink and began to write, slowly, the words bleeding from his soul:

'To the Silent Brotherhood of Alicante,

In utmost secrecy and by the authority vested in me as High King of Idris, I present a matter not of war or law, but of life sacred, divine, and born of impossibility.

(His hand paused. The fire cracked behind him. A breeze rustled the window silk. Then he continued.)

Magnus Bane, First Consort of Idris, bearer of ancient fairy lineage and bloodline of Asmodeus and Leila Bane, is with child. The conception is not speculative it has been confirmed by High Fairy Ruelle, whose senses lie beyond the reach of shadow or illusion.

The child is mine by blood and soul.

And the child is royal.

An heir of Idris.

An heir of fairy magic.

(Alec set down the quill. Pressed the heel of his palm to his brow. The weight of it struck him again. Not in theory. In truth. A royal heir. Growing within Magnus. He continued.)

I entrust this knowledge to you alone, because there is no other institution bound so completely by oaths of secrecy, sanctity, and protection. I ask not only for guidance, but for your hand in shielding this child from what approaches.

You know the name Killian Jonas.

You know of Zyran, King of Calmaria, the land of beasts and blood-rivers.

You know what he did to Magnus's family. What his son desires.

Killian comes not only for vengeance. He comes to claim what he sees as his: the last fertile male fairy. A vessel. A prize. A womb.

But this womb carries Idris's soul now.

He will not touch Magnus.

He will not touch what is mine.

But I ask for your aid in making sure he never comes close.

(Alec rose from his chair then, walking to the tall arched window that overlooked the northern gardens where Magnus sometimes sat, barefoot, among the blue roses when he couldn't sleep. The wind carried the scent of the fairy orchards that had been planted just for him)

(His voice dropped to a whisper, though no one was there to hear it.

"I've lived through bloodshed, through betrayal, through fire. But this... this is what I cannot lose." He returned to the desk, added)