Nothing could possibly go wrong barreling through the gates of Eshon's palace, Thanewick, at full gallop on horseback, paying no heed to the shouting guards as the horse (Raven, was it?) cut in front of carts and heavily armored knights.
I paid no heed to them, for my eyes were peeled for one person and one person only in the circular plaza that lay ahead of the castle's entrance; Arthur Sperling, newly coronated King of Eshon.
I pulled backward lightly on the reins as I heard his familiar nasally voice call out, disgruntled. The gentle mare slowed to a halt and I swung my leg over her, sliding to the floor. The Eshonese King approached through the gardens, flanked by two stone-faced guards wielding spears.
"You came," There was no humor, no life in his voice. He was a stern man with a square face and brown hair trimmed short, a sparse brush of stubble above his lip and at his chin.
"Of course I did," I looked down at him; there was a distinct difference in our statures. What is it you desire of me?"
"I have a job for you. An optional one, though I have the feeling you'll be more than eager to complete it."
"Don't leave me hanging, Sperling."
"It is better we talk in the throne room," His face was permanently in a state of utter disappointment. "Alone," He grudgingly added to the guards. They bowed their heads and one of them took the reins from me, leading the horse away.
"Why do you want to get me alone, my lord?" I quipped out of habit.
"Must everything be a joke to your-- you!" He roared, avoiding my eyes as he briskly walked down the path that cut through the middle of the vast circle, short trees on either side.
"And must you always be a tight-ass?" I retorted. Sperling did not once break his even pace, his posture perfect and his hands behind his back. Certainly a tight-ass.
He didn't respond, but rather sped up into what was almost a jog, and I ran up behind him. Royal guardsmen identical to the first two gracefully shifted to the massive arch doors and instantly pulled them open by the silver handles. Sperling rushed me into the throne room and the heavy doors shut loudly behind us with a dull thud.
The man pressed his back up against them and slid to the floor; now was one of the very few times where I saw vivid pain flash in his pale amber eyes.
The throne room mimicked styles of centuries passed, traditional and often gaudy in its exorbitant patterns and overuse of detailed wallpaper, velvet, and gold.
"Rose," Arthur breathed in what might very well have been physical agony. "You're…"
He trailed off for what felt like minutes, and I felt a familiar warmth bubble and burst in my gut.
"Spit it out!" I shouted at him, then winced as my voice echoed long after.
"If… no, when, this all succeeds, I realize that I am both not competent to lead an army or to rule over another country when it comes to that."
"Pshaw, Sperling! Why did you get into this, then?"
"I have a wild card," He stared at me intensely, and I noticed the dark circles around his eyes.
"What are you talking about?"
"You!"
"Excuse me?"
"Will you rule Senkyo?"
I gaped at him, lost for words. "Fuck you."
"Rose--"
"Fuck you!" I snarled, and for dramatic effect swept the nearest breakable object, a vase that was likely a family heirloom, straight off its podium and onto the floor, where it exploded into thousands of ceramic shards. A narrow mirror hung above it, and I pulled my fist back to shatter it too without a second thought. A suffocating wrath squirmed deep in me, a drug I thought I'd sworn off long ago but still made its frequent rounds in my cravings.
"Rose!" Arthur hissed. "Look at yourself!"
And I did. My fist froze next to my ear as the lone emerald eye leered back in a traumatized gaze, the other gone and the socket covered with a leather patch. The runes carved into my skin may round my ears, may flatten my teeth, but to anyone even mildly-acquainted with Fae, I was unmistakably Elven.
I wanted to slit my own throat.
"Don't ask that of me." I dropped my hands to my sides.
"Alighieri will instantly depose me."
"Then we kill him."
"That is virtually impossible, you know that." Sperling's words were soft, and he watched me without judgment as I sank to my knees before him. "Anyways, before we deal with the second-in-command, we deal with the King. Only you can stand before your ex-lover as his equal."
"We were never lovers," I weakly pushed.
"Like Achilles and Patroclus, then?"
"No," I whispered. "He will not overshadow me."
"Now's your chance to make sure of that."
Sperling definitely knew how to play me.