Dark King

This was the thing with men, as my mother—Queen Malgven herself—had warned me. It doesn’t matter who you really are. They write their own stories about you. They cast you in one of several roles. The innocent girl who needed teaching. The lunatic who needed calming. The whore who’d break your heart.

How immensely human to be scared of bumblebees and ghosts while speeding around in flaming death machines all day like it was nothing.

Look, I am a good person. Or, at the worst, I am morally gray.

What’s the point? Have you not noticed how they operate here? They eat before us, the council of three. Three males, making all the decisions. I follow orders. I’m good enough to fuck—not good enough to consult on decisions. Not good enough to trust with all the secrets they keep among themselves. Once, women ruled the fae world. We were treated like goddesses. Your mother brought all that back. A true fae queen, just like the old days. And I was going to be her successor, reviving the old House of Marc’h, ruled by women centuries ago. All I wanted was the power I deserved.

Where did you get roller skates?” She pulled out her lollipop. “Lyr found them for me. I told you he’d become your boyfriend and you two would fall in love. I have psychic powers.” “No, you said Irdion would be my boyfriend, and he remains dead after I shot him.” She shrugged. “Close enough.

A comb of iron, a stream of water beneath my dangling toes… Mama was right—you had to count on yourself. Lyr was a liar, and I wasn’t going to wait for him to show up and find me.

I didn’t need a kingdom. I just wanted safety, wealth, and the power to control the seas. Was that so much to ask?

When they’d fallen, the fae had ended up in Ireland, Great Britain, and the islands. Long ago, we had been angels who’d decided we actually kind of liked the pleasures of Earth better than Heaven, and we indulged in enchanted food and dance. Over the centuries, most of us had lost our wings—but not everyone.

I guess I’m not surprised. I mean, I feel like I should be, but she was just always a full-on bitch. The only time I ever saw her cheerful was immediately after banging Lyr.” Lyr put his head in his hands, like he’d been enduring centuries of his brothers’ bull crap. Gwydion put his hand to his mouth in mock horror. “Oops. Should I not have brought that up?” Midir stared at me. “Now that you mention it, Aenor seems more cheerful, now, doesn’t she?” And that was my cue to leave.

I guess if you wanted people to believe you, they had to hear it from a man.

And do you know what they say about people who make assumptions? You make an ass of you and … umptions.” I’d butchered the saying, and I tried to clear my throat. “Which is a valid human expression.

Go to the sea hell, you robotic tyrant!” I shouted. “I’m just trying to buy some freaking nut-free vitamin corn for my human!

I had twenty-four quid and seventeen pence left to my name. I’d have to see exactly how far that would get me in Tesco.