The Fallen: Courts of Chaos

20. Imminent Threat

"She's lying."

The smile was completely wiped out of Tauryn's face, replaced with a displeased frown.

"Bold of her to be lying to a Fey."

Eryl stepped out of the shadow without his usual Cloak. In its place, the Fallen wore a loose tunic the way a male Fey would normally dress, just without the grandeur of their exquisite jewellery.

"You don't think Loretta sent her here, do you?" Tauryn absentmindedly asked. Of all things, Loretta should be last on his mind, especially since he finally managed to root out the last of her spies in this land. But there was something about Iris he couldn't quite place.

"She doesn't seem like Loretta's usual type," was Eryl's reply. Tauryn nodded immediately. It was a foolish guess, but one nagging at the back of his mind.

Loretta usually trained her girls well and would not, under any circumstances, let them out until they were ready. She also happened to like young girls who were broken beyond repair and very cynical, and Iris seemed to fit none of those criterias. If anything, she seemed very inexperienced and innocent; jittery and a little fearful even.

"However," Eryl continued, "She does smell like a Halfling. Very faint, but it's there."

The expression on Tauryn's face didn't look quite right.

The Fey had taken blood purity quite seriously, almost as much, if not, more severely than the Vampires did. Any shameful Fey or the likes would never dream of showing their faces or their Halfling to the Court for fear of being executed.

However, that said, the case of an actual execution was rare and few, but no one took the chance except for a selected, desperate few. These Halflings who came back to live under the Court often had a difficult life - shamed, shunned, and alone for eternity.

"Certainly not a Dhampir?" He cautiously asked.

"No," Eryl shook his head, slowly pacing around the room as Tauryn sat straighter. "She doesn't smell like a Mud, either. I take it she's most definitely not yours?"

"You know the only Fey that lives outside the Clan is the dwarves. And she doesn't look like... their Halfling," Tauryn tilted his head and said the words with much difficulty. His face was filled with worry, casting a dark shadow all over, "Please keep a watch on her. Make sure she is not a threat when the situation is dire enough as is."

The Fallen did not respond, but a silence was as good as it got coming from the former Lord. There was something about Iris that felt oddly familiar. A human she might not be, but she didn't seem like the usual Halfling he came across.

A fair face came to mind as he paced around briskly. A face too beautiful to ignore, full of despair and fear. An emotion he'd long forgotten surged forward, almost powerful enough to steal his breath away, but Eryl, strong in denial as he ever was, immediately shut down the possibility.

He hated feelings and not being in control of his own emotions. Being a Fallen gave him this peace.

"Eryl."

The Fallen stopped.

"My Father... You are absolutely certain the Herb will keep him alive for longer?"

"The Herb can only keep him on his last breath, and each day, it will be weaker than the last," He replied with a blank face, hiding the turmoil under a pretty, carefully constructed facade.

"He must last until the Summer Solstice," Tauryn grimly replied.

Eryl eyed his despairing friend and merely responded, "Even then, he won't wake up, Tauryn. He never will. And when it's time to draw his last, he will disintegrate into ashes. I'm afraid you won't even have a body to bury."

Tauryn and his siblings were not exactly close to their Father, so his doom was more of an administrative grievance than a familial one. They had always known him as a 'King' and never as a present father figure in the centuries they had lived for. Of seven females and five males he had sired, only five remained. The Fey was immortal, but with iron as a fatal weakness, the danger was ever present to the Royal children.

Though the Seelie King was not as ruthless, calculative, and cold as the Unseelie King Haldor, he was estranged from the children and chose none to be his successor, believing himself protected and truly immortal, even from the danger of iron. That was his one tragic mistake.

Now Tauryn had to mitigate the damage and guard himself against the siblings.

As the eldest and the most capable child, he was always seen as the most popular candidate to be the Heir and the siblings' biggest threat. After all, no blood ties were strong enough to take away the allure of an eternal throne.

"That's fine," A weary smile graced Tauryn's lips, and he was once again shining and radiant as befitting of a Seelie Prince, albeit dimly. 'A body to bury' would be the last of his concerns if the Heir problem was solved by then.

Tauryn might be graceful and kind by nature, but when needed to be, he would play this game of thrones against the rest.

And when he did, Tauryn would play to win.