"I am afraid we have a problem, Your Majesty," Filton announced, "A fae farmer has arrived demanding an audience. Normally I wouldn't bother you so early, but it seemed like a case you would want to hear about."
"Well, why is he here?" Ember demanded. What was so important that it couldn't wait until dawn? The room was still cast in shadows, and when Ember glanced at the window, he could just see the first glimmer of light on the horizon.
"The man says that his daughter has been stolen, your grace," Filton bowed his head, looking at Ember out of the corner of his eye, suggesting there was more to his story.
Iris had raised her head from his chest and was looking at Filton with interest. "You believe he is talking about Melia, don't you?"
The advisor seemed to flinch at that. She had voiced Ember's own thoughts, and his stomach twisted at the look of acknowledgement on Filton's face.
"I do, my lady."
"Then we must get to the bottom of this immediately," Iris insisted, and she sat up, beginning to clamber from the bed.
"Sweetheart, you're naked," Ember reminded her gently, but Filton had already averted his eyes.
"I am sure that Filton has seen a naked woman before," Iris scowled at him and began to throw on a clean undergown. She then added, "I should return to my room to dress and meet you in the throne room."
"No, you should come back to bed and let me handle this," Ember said, but even as he said the words, he knew he had no hope of getting her to listen. The look on her face said that she couldn’t believe he had just suggested something so ridiculous.
"If this has anything to do with Perivale, there is no way I am going back to sleep," she announced, and with that, she threw on her robe and was gone from the room. Ember's heart began to ache with longing the moment she was gone.
"Out, Filton!" Ember demanded, once more frustrated that their dozing had been interrupted. "Wait for me outside."
"Oh, yes, Your Grace," Filton jumped, as if he hadn't expected to be addressed, and then began to bounce toward the door, his small wings fluttering behind him.
"Filton!" Ember called just as he reached for the door handle.
"Yes, Your Grace?" The tall fae turned back, looking awkward in his movement.
"What information did you find? Is Melia this man's daughter?" Ember questioned with a raised brow.
"I can't be certain until he has laid eyes upon her, but I fear so, your grace," Filton said, and with that, he bowed, leaving the room for Ember to get dressed.
Damn you, Perivale! Ember wanted to yell the words, but he decided it was best he contain his anger until the accusation was confirmed. If it was, Ember would not hold back his wrath any longer. Perivale had gotten away with far too much already. Thinking once more of the bruising that had covered Iris from head to toe when she arrived, he was just about ready to rip Perivale's wings from his back with his bare hands. Even the dungeons in the very bowels of the mountain beneath the palace seemed like much too good a place for a man like him.
He will get what he deserves, Ember assured himself.
The moment Ember walked into the throne room, he knew the truth. The sound of weeping came from the golden-haired girl who was wrapped in the arms of a man he didn't recognize. His plain brown clothing, stained shirt and unkempt hair suggested that he was the farmer Filton had mentioned. Standing a little way off was Perivale, looking flustered and more than a little roughhoused.
Guards stood at attention on either side of him, with the butt of their spears on the floor, ready to react at any moment.
"What is the meaning of this?" Perivale demanded, and Ember was almost certain that the noble hadn't realized he had entered the room from the small side door behind his throne.
"I was just thinking the same thing," Iris's voice rang out from just beyond the open double doors at the other end of the throne room, uttering the very words Ember had just opened his own mouth to speak. Instead, he remained hidden behind the throne, interested to see how the situation might play out without his interference.
"You!" Perivale snapped the moment Iris swept into the room. Ember was almost certain she looked more radiant every time he laid eyes upon her. Though she flinched slightly at the venom in Perivale's tone, Ember was proud that she held her head high as she glared at the disgusting noble. "I should have known you were somehow involved in all of this."
He seemed to take a step toward her, no doubt remembering all the times he had been free to hit her in the past. Ember clenched his fists and bit the inside of his lip to stop himself from getting involved.
She needs to do this, Ember realized, seeing the determination and anger that blazed in Iris's blue-purple gaze. She needs to feel in control.
At an inclination of her head, the two guards responded, barring Perivale's way with their spearheads. Iris stood only a few meters away, captivating the room, dressed in a long, flowing purple gown. Though it was simple, and her hair was pulled back into a plain ponytail of curls that cascaded down her back, Ember thought she had never looked more like royalty than she did in that moment. Shoulders back, head raised high, hands clasped before her, she glared at Perivale as if she were thinking of all the things she could do to him with a mere order.
"Who do you think you are?" Perivale snapped at her though, he flinched backward when the spears were jerked in warning toward him.
"Remember who you speak to," one of the guards warned with a growl in his voice.
"It is okay," Iris assured the guard with a wave of her hand, "Please, let him speak."