It wasn't.
Aware of the nobleman's daughter’s penchant to fuck anyone who could possibly raise her station, as the son of the Queen – legitimate or not – I knew to stay far away from the ambitious female. But one night after too many pints, I caved and took her to bed. I honestly recall very little of the night, but although she was pleasant to look at, what memories I did manage to retain were otherwise unremarkable and bland. My hand would have been a more enjoyable outlet and at least in that instance, I wouldn't have to endure her constant nagging for a repeat, and Aurora wouldn't feel the need to constantly remind me of my error in judgment.
The stool on the other side of mine scrapes across the floor before Griffin seats himself.
“The meeting?” he asks, never one to mince words.
Cursing internally, the words sit at the tip of my tongue, but I’m relieved from answering when a commotion catches our attention. Turning to face the disruption, I find a smiling Kace racing towards Aurora, his arms raised as if in embrace. “My love! How I've missed you so!”
Aurora cocks her head to the side, watching Kace with an almost placid expression. But once he reaches her and begins to wrap his arms around her shoulders, she slaps her palm to his face with a loud smack, curls her fingers around his head, and tosses him across the room. Kace screeches his displeasure amid his impromptu flight.
Sprawled atop splintered chairs and a flattened table, Kace’s face contorts into fury as the pub breaks out in laughter. “What was that for?!”
Aurora jolts out of her chair, pointing. “You've had your head between that female's tits the entire night.” She wrinkles her nose. “I don't want you slobbering on me with tit sweat all over your face!”
Kace dusts himself off and storms towards her. “She doesn't have tit sweat!”
Nose to nose, Aurora curls her lip. “I can smell it on you.”
Shaking my head at the strange duo, I curse Griffin, ever the mediator, when he shoves fresh tankards of ale to both their chests.
Never ones to waste a pint, they give each other one last parting glare before tabling their argument for another time.
“What happened at the meeting?” Griffin asks, returning to our earlier discussion.
“Oh! I heard all about that debacle,” Aurora chimes in, planting herself on the edge of the stool beside me.
“How would you have heard that?” I ask. She says nothing, but her single arched brow is answer enough. “Theon gossips too much.” Narrowing my eyes, I add, “You both do.”
“Well?” Kace asks, his blue-eyed gaze bouncing between me and Aurora.
“They’re not going to do anything,” I admit.
“Why the fuck not?”
Gritting my teeth, I attempt to stifle my anger as I recall the cowardice of the Kings Council. “I didn't provide enough evidence.”
Griffin scowls and Kace tosses his hands up, balking.
“Oh, yes,” Aurora says, fiddling with the wooden handle of her tankard. “Adelphia was quite displeased with you.” She sips from her pint, licking her lips as she lowers it. “Heard Mother dearest gave you quite the tongue lashing.”
“Did Theon eavesdrop at the door?” I snap, slapping my tankard against the rail. “No one else was in the room!”
Her lips spread into a wide, unabashed smile as she nods enthusiastically. “Of course!”
“What did your mother say?” Griffin asks.
Tearing my gaze from my nosey sister, I expel a mirthless laugh. “She threatened to strip me of my command and banish me from the palace if I ever disobeyed her again.”
“What. A. Cunt.”
“Kace!” Griffin scolds, lips slashed in a disapproving line.
“What? She is!”
“She's your queen,” I respond neutrally.
“Okay, she's Queen Cunt.” We all groan at his response and he shrugs. “What? You know it's true.”
“Yes, but you don't say it in public,” Griffin says on a sigh, weary of the fae’s foolish habit of not guarding his words.
“What's she going to do? Torture me? Kill me?” He scoffs, swigging from his ale.
“Kill? No,” Aurora replies, slowly shaking her head. “Torture and maim? Absolutely. Killing those who are only verbally opposed to her reflects poorly with the people.”
“How magnanimous of her,” Griffin states dryly.
“I’m actually surprised you all thought the Kings Council would be willing to act against Brecca,” Aurora says, bobbing her crossed legs as she leans back against the bar.
“And why would you think that?” I ask.
Drumming her nails on the rail, Aurora watches us for a long moment before placing her tankard down and clasping her hands in her lap. “The rulers on the Kings Council like to believe they’re the most powerful beings on the continent, but they’re not. The Breccans are, with their Gods Cursed and army of Soulless. They know this, you know this, everyone does,” she says as she twirls a finger, gesturing toward the patrons of the filled pub. “Yet we all act like we forced them to retreat, even though we all know we didn't. They slaughtered hundreds of us within minutes and walked away. Not because we defeated them, but because they chose to leave.” She shakes her head, scoffing. “And you wonder why they won’t pursue an enemy that could exterminate every last one of us? They won't do a godsdamn thing unless given no other choice.”
“I gave them evidence,” I remind her.
“You gave them evidence that was easily dismissed.” She pats my leg. “You need to give them facts that are irrefutable.”
I rub the scruff along my jaw, processing Aurora’s words. This task was already a difficult one to begin with, but considering this, I realize how much more complicated it is if the rulers aren’t even willing to consider the possibility of Brecca’s return.
