Vague memories told me fae court was all about spectacle.
We might be in a dirty clubhouse in the middle of the bayou, the air humid and smelling of swamp, the music loud, the drinks in plastic cups … but this was still court. Her court. My court.
“Because I know what I told you not once, not twice, but three times. I warned you, Arlo. Now.” I paused and my nostrils flared at the same time he gritted his teeth. “Shall I repeat my warning in another language? Sidhe? Gaelic? Because if I have to, I will tear my memory apart until those languages come back to me, and I will repeat myself. One. More. Time.”
“What are you getting at?” Arlo asked, low and quiet. Dangerous. He would be a dangerous man to anyone but me. His green eyes shone with a brilliant light and his tongue slid over his lower lip. “I haven't broken any of your rules.”
“Toeing the line is close enough. It's willful disobedience,” I snapped as Rafe came out of the other room and paused, raising a silver eyebrow and leaning against the wall with one shoulder to watch the show. I ignored him.
“Disobedience?” Arlo scoffed with a shake of his head. He lifted his chin and looked down at me. “I'm not really the type to be disobedient, Veil Keeper. Because I ain't the type to be obedient in the first place.”
Laughter rippled around the room—male and female alike.
This was going to turn into a battle of wills, wasn’t it?
Well, I wasn't going to lose.
“You have two choices now. Take off your cut and walk out those doors, climb on your bike and leave the Wild Hunt. Or, you can be my Lord of Spring. In that case, leave your cut on but take off your pants.”
More laughter swirled around me as the spectators stood and sipped their faerie wine, glamours flickering in and out. With a wave of my hand, I shattered them all like glass. A collective gasp went up from the crowd and then … silence.
Arlo now stood above me with his horns curving over his head, his silver skin gleaming, his eyes like rare jewels. His rage was a palpable fucking thing.
“You want my dick?” he asked with a bit of swagger, but this time, nobody laughed.
“Leave the Hunt. Be my Lord. Those are your choices.”
I stared him down, feeling every moment of helplessness and torture from the past five years pushing against me like an iron weight, burning my skin and crushing me to the floor. It felt like my ribs would break, my skull would crack, my insides would ooze across the floor. Because for years, they did. For years, I was barely a person, nothing but flesh and blood and meat. And for years, I had no choice in the matter. It wasn't a matter of fighting hard or fighting smart or being clever—I was trapped.
This time, today, here, I had a choice.
I would not be bullied or abused. And maybe, if I had to assert myself more than usual to make up for all that time, then Arlo would have to learn to love me despite it, for it … or else he could leave. The only vulnerability I would show in this moment was me picking him.
“Oh, come on, brudder, don't be a damn fool, you,” Reece said, appearing at Arlo's side and then turning his eyes to mine. Without his glamour, they were the color of autumn. Without his glamour … he was pure sex. His magic flowed in the room like honeyed wine as he reached out and brushed his fingers down the other man's inked shoulder.
Arlo shuddered and grit his teeth, lifting his hands up to his hair like he was about to go insane. I understood. It wasn't easy to give up control. But to be here, with me, he'd have to learn. I couldn't be subjugated or dominated or crushed under male feet for the sake of pride. Whatever the Veil Keeper was like in the past, I couldn't speak to her rules, her wants, her desires … I could only speak to mine.
“Fuck,” Arlo choked, reaching up to his vest and slowly removing it. “I'm out then. I can't do this, be treated like a …”
A single tear rolled down my face and Arlo paused as I dashed it away, his nostrils flaring.
“Are damaged things not worth being loved?” I asked him, and he went completely still and then stopped, letting go of his cut and reaching out to me. “No. If you couldn't accept me when I was strong and only when you saw weakness, maybe I don't want you as a Lord. Maybe you're not right for it.”
I spun away and headed for the exterior doors, Arlo following after.
I made it out to the railing, leaning over the water and choking on a sudden rush of pain. Tears streamed down my face, but from where or why, I wasn't sure.
“Don't touch me!” I shouted when Arlo put a big hand on my shoulder and I spun around, throwing him off. Killian and Reece stood nearby, and the crowd watched through the open windows and doors. “Don't touch me,” I repeated with quiet menace.
“Keeper—” Arlo began to say in a strangled sounding voice but Reece cut him off with a smack to the head.
“Our goddess has a name, best be usin' it at times like this, no?”
Arlo turned to glare at Reece, but once again was cut off by the older fae man. “She be more dan jus' some bedtime story yo mama told. She be here, a real damn woman and you been actin' a real damn fool.”
Turning his cheek to Arlo, Reece speared me with his autumn gaze, so sharp it made my breath catch.
“Ciarah, this couillon need a lesson, see? He need ta understand, you more dan jus' a goddess, more dan jus' Le Gardien du Voile. You still be a woman, an' a woman sore in need of some love in her life. Now, I don' know what you been through, me. But I do know when a woman need love. It's in my magic, see?” Reece stepped closer to me and the world around him faded into obscurity. Nothing mattered except me, and him, and the words he was saying.
He was dia gnéas, a god of sex, and it rolled off him in waves as he stepped closer still. His magic reached me, touching my skin cautiously, then creeping over me in comforting ripples that lit up my nerve endings and flooded me with the truth behind his words. Reece meant every damn word he was saying and I could already feel more tears rolling down my face as he continued.
“More dan dat, Ciarah. You deserve dat love, and Ol' Reece be more than willin' to give it.” His eyes still locked on mine, he sank gracefully to one knee and a flash of something older transposed over him, someone older, of a different time, and I realized I was seeing a flash of the last Lord of Autumn in this same position, about to pledge his fealty to the Keeper.
“Ciarah, ma déesse, Gardien du Voile, I offer me as your Lord of Autumn. From now til forever, Ol' Reece will be by your side. Knight, Protector, Confidante, and me hopes Lover.” He threw a saucy wink at me. “Dis pledge be given free and un-coerced. My life be yours, ‘tit fille.”