A Stranger Sort of Fairy Tale, page 32
He extended his hand to the redhead, who offered fons own back. Tarquin’s leaned down and kissed it. “And here you are,” he said.
He turned to Tullia, who was boggling at them. “Yes?”
“Is … that one of our aunt’s tiaras?” She leaned in closer. “Are those Mother’s diamond teardrop earrings?”
There were several trumpet blasts, then a bell ringing out; farther away, they could hear the temple bells tolling. “Come,” he said, taking Viridian’s hand more firmly, “let us sup.”
He led the fey to the banquet table, now laid with all the finest foods the kingdom had to offer. Tray after tray, platter after platter made its way out of the kitchen. The early spring harvest was only beginning to come in, but after the rough go of things, Tarquin had to do something. Ale was flowing freely from every alehouse in the city tonight, and the palace larders were open once more. He nodded to a noble from d’Alcantra, whom he’d signed a trade deal with that morning before he’d gone back to bed. More grain would flow into the city soon.
Tarquin frowned; he’d ordered the table to be set with two thrones at the head. There was only one. He pulled it out, gestured for Viridian to sit.
The room stopped dead as Viridian settled fonself in the chair.
The servants were the first to erupt; there was a clatter and clamor as someone darted out of the room, followed by three more, someone yelling, “The king is standing, the king is standing!”
Tarquin looked around the room, finding all eyes pinned on them. Some curious onlookers were peering down the table. Ladies were fanning themselves; some were standing on their tiptoes, trying to get a better look through the crowd.
“Tarquin,” Tullia growled from somewhere near him.
He picked up a glass of wine, lifted it high. “Noble hearts from the farthest corners of the empire, my most trusted advisors, my strength! Fellow Arubians, my countrymen! Welcome!” he boomed across the room. “We cannot tell you how delighted we are to receive you here in these halls tonight! Many of you have traveled far—we drink to your safe arrival in our kingdom!
“And now, without further ado, let us begin the festivities! Join us in this feast! We entreat you to put away your cares and revel in the evening!”
The servants scuttled in with a chair; it was from the throne room. It had taken about eight of them to move it. He lowered himself into the seat. He lifted the wine glass again. “To health!” he cried.
A chorus of “ayes” filled the room. Tarquin handed his cup to Viridian.
“Go on,” Tarquin said, “drink.”
Viridian held the goblet to fons lips, drank hesitantly. Tarquin leaned back in his chair. “Domitian—if you please. Fruit juices for my companion; make sure they are the sweetest.”
“Sire.”
“Stop fooling around, Quin,” Tullia hissed in his ear. “Just hurry up and make the announcement.”
The room was filled with whispering, even as the orchestra struck up again. Tarquin took the cup back from Viridian, who shook fons head furiously. “That’s awful,” fon said.
“Keep drinking it. You’ll like it well enough shortly.”
“Who’s the girl?”
“I don’t know her.”
“I’ve never seen her …”
Tarquin reached across the table and began pulling apart the meat. He heaped it on his plate, wiped grease onto his napkin. He pulled a platter of fruit across the way. “Something here, my love?” He plucked up a grape, popped it into the fey’s mouth.
Viridian chewed thoughtfully. “Nectar is better,” fon mumbled, but accepted the additional grapes Tarquin set on a plate for fonom.
“Of course,” Tarquin said easily, “we all have things we prefer to eat.”
Viridian ducked fons head.
“But you must keep your strength up.”
“Nectar, Majesty,” Domitian said, setting the pitcher upon the table before them. “Fresh from the hibiscus blooming in the palace gardens this week. And here we have the juices of Majesty’s cherry trees, mixed with love apples—pomegranates.”
Tarquin lifted a brow.
“Shall I pour?” Domitian asked, reaching for the goblet.
“Please.”
The servant bowed, then poured the glass with a flourish. He presented it to Viridian, who sipped upon it hesitantly.
“Good?” Tarquin asked when the fey opened fons eyes again.
“Yes.”
“Thank you,” Tarquin said to Domitian, who bowed and scuttled away again. He lifted his glass to Viridian’s. “Cheers.”
Gradually, the room returned to its normal volume, chatter and clattering dishes, the orchestra playing over the sound of dancing feet.
“Shall we dance?” Tarquin asked, wiping his hands on the napkin once more, then tossing it down. He got to his feet, offered his arm to Viridian.
More whispers followed them, even as Tarquin took up the fey’s hands. They readied their feet. The band struck up again. Tarquin led; Viridian followed seamlessly.
Bile rose in the back of Tarquin’s throat; the room was full of ill sentiment.
Round and round they whirled, Viridian with an enormous smile plastered to fons features, and Tarquin tried to focus on that, not the angry whispers, the dark looks.
The number ended. “Another dance?” Tarquin asked, and Viridian shook fons head. “We’ll have to leave soon. I fear some are rather unenthusiastic about your presence.”
They waited two more dances, then took the floor again. They reeled their way through three more numbers, and then Tarquin clutched Viridian’s hand and said, “We need to leave.”
“What about—”
Tarquin turned about. “My friends!” he cried. “I bid you all a good night! Please—enjoy yourselves to your hearts’ content! My house is at your disposal!”
“Quin!” Tullia yelled, but he was already tugging Viridian into the hall, then into the garden.
“Slow down!” Viridian protested, hiking fons skirt a little higher. “I can’t run in these shoes. You know I’m not the most graceful, but—”
Fon stumbled to a stop, bumping up against Tarquin. He hefted the fey off the ground, cradled fonom in his arms. “Better, firefly?”
“Put me down! By Selene, you’ll hurt yourself more, you foolish imp!”
Tarquin paused, struck by the reflection of the heavens in those wide, green orbs.
There was a call from farther up the hill, and he shook himself free of his stupor again. “I was going to take you to the fountain so that we might look at the stars, but I see now I don’t need to move to watch celestial bodies.”
Viridian turned bright red. “Oh, stop!”
Tarquin hefted fonom again, then continued on down the path. “This might be easier if I tossed you over my shoulder.”
“This might be easier if you set me back down like I asked, milord—I have feet, I’m capable.”
“Mm, but I suppose I need to practice for the wedding.”
Viridian flushed again. “About that,” fon said.
Tarquin arranged fonom neatly on the edge of the marble fountain as it bubbled away. “Weren’t you supposed to announce our engagement?”
“I’d have been rather ill if I had. Perhaps you didn’t notice, but those were some rather black looks—plenty of malice.”
He rolled his tongue, as though dislodging the taste of the evil energy from his mouth. Viridian glanced about. “Is it all right for us to be out here?” Fon leaned a little closer to Tarquin. “I mean, if there really was evil intention, then …”
“We’re perfectly safe.” Tarquin reached deep into his sleeve, to the pouch around his wrist. “I think I prefer this to the ballroom floor.”
He glanced at the fey as he pulled the ring out of the bag. “I think I’ve made a promise before …”
Viridian’s eyes were bright, gleaming with the moon, the stars above, the shine of the emerald upon the golden band. Fon pressed his hands to fons cheeks, fons wings fluttering. “Yes,” fon breathed.
“I haven’t even asked you.”
“It doesn’t matter!” the fey cried, holding out fons hand. “You already know the answer—you needn’t have asked the question.”
“Well, I was going to ask if you thought I ought to take this one back and—”
Viridian tapped his cheek. “Don’t. Haven’t we tarried long enough?”
Tarquin returned the smile, took up the fey’s hand. He slipped the ring onto fons finger, sighing in contentment when the fit was snug. He’d worried it hadn’t been sized it properly, although he supposed one ought not to second-guess the royal jeweler.
Viridian withdrew fons hand, admiring the ring, the rubies set on either side of the emerald. “It’s beautiful,” fon breathed, then lifted fons hand to the sky, admiring it from another angle.
Tarquin held back a sigh. Something was quite beautiful, and he didn’t think it was a colorful rock.
Viridian turned to him at last, beaming. “Yes,” fon said again, putting fons hands firmly in Tarquin’s. “Yes—I’ll be your spouse.”
Tarquin blinked. He inhaled, but Viridian shook his head.
“That’s another thing.” Fon paused, fons smile falling. Fon glanced up at the incubus, licked fons lips. “About … words.”
“Yes,” Tarquin said quickly.
Viridian fidgeted a little, then shuffled closer to him. “I, um.”
“Yes?”
“I think I’d like you to use the title consort or spouse. Or maybe … if you don’t mind the foreign title, monarchiete.”
“Of course, firefly. I’ll promulgate the act tomorrow. And … how? Would it be Fons Majesty or …”
Viridian pressed a hand to fon’s lips. “No. It would just be Monarchiete.”
“That’s easy enough,” Tarquin said with a nod.
Viridian leaned in a little closer. “But … in bed, could you tell me I’m … a good girl?”
Tarquin growled low in his throat. “Whatever you want, darling girl.”
“All right, okay, that’s enough!” Tullia cried, clapping her hands.
They leapt apart. “By Helios, you two are disgusting.” Tullia curled her lip.
“I beg your pardon, sister—”
“The proposal was well done, but we didn’t need the bedroom talk—if you two would kindly retire to the king’s chambers—or Monarchiete’s, as you might prefer—”
“Thank you!” Viridian cried, darting across the lawn, grabbing Tullia up in a hug. “Thank you, that—”
“Hush now,” she huffed, pushing the redhead away. “Get you gone—people are looking for Your Majesties—”
“Viridian isn’t crowned yet,” Tarquin interjected.
Tullia glowered at him. “And I suspect they won’t be kind to you, once they discover the king’s intentions.”
“Thank you,” Viridian whispered, then pulled away. Fon tugged Tarquin to his feet. “Let’s go.”
“Why don’t you run ahead, firefly—I’ll meet you in my chambers. You’ll find Zahir there.”
Viridian grabbed up fons skirt, then darted away. Tarquin looked at Tullia. “Thank you.”
“Answer me one thing, Quin.”
“I’ll do my best.”
“Do you love Viridian?”
He looked at the ground, then up to the sky, the stars twinkling as they performed their nightly ball, a blue streak blazing across the velvet dance floor.
“Yes, sister. I do love Viridian.”
She nodded. “That’s all Mother or Father would have wanted.” She bit her lip hard.
He drew her into a hug. “I think they’d both be very pleased—the future of our royal house, the kingdom of Arubio, shall be so secured.”
He touched his hand to hers. She wiped tears from her eyes. “Oh, go,” she sniffled, “I’m sure he—I mean, fon—is waiting for you now. Go.”
He relinquished her hand gently, then stole away. He ducked back into the castle, then headed up the service stairs unseen—a nightmare moving through the darkness.
He opened the doors to his chambers, allowed himself to slip inside that sacred place, another shadow among those wheeling wildly across the walls, the candles flickering in the breeze. He paused at the foot of the bed, preparing to attack. He peeled back the curtains, and Viridian peered up at him, a slight smile on the fey’s lips.
Zahir struck a harsh note on the lyre, and the string snapped, twanging out into the night.
Viridian laughed. “Stop playing, and come to bed with me.”
Tarquin fell into bed with the fey, their bodies—arms, legs, wings, horns—tangling together as they got caught up in each other, twisted in the sheets. Viridian tilted Tarquin’s head up, looked him deep in the eye. “Tonight,” fon said.
“Every night,” Tarquin murmured, “and forever after.”
Notes
First , thanks so much for picking up A Stranger Sort of Fairy Tale. I hope you enjoyed it.
Of course, some of you might not have enjoyed it, and that’s fine. There are some themes in this book that not everyone will love; some readers will find some of the content objectionable.
If you did enjoy the book, I hope you'll consider leaving a review for it. Even if you didn't and you want to trash the book, go ahead and leave a nasty review. Reviews are for readers; I don't read them. If you have serious concerns about the book or would like to discuss it, please feel free to contact me. Otherwise, discuss the book as much as you'd like, whether you loved it or hated it.
I want to talk a little bit more about some of themes in the book. Now that you've finished it, I don't have to worry about spoiling anything. My writing often tends to deal with complex subjects, so I wanted to be sure I included some discussion here for the reader. You can always find more discussion on my blog (cherrypickett.com).
Let's start with the big one: Viridian, sex, and gender identity. I usually write m/m romance. This book started out that way. Over time, however, it became apparent to me that Viridian isn't “male” in our sense of the word. So what is Viridian then? Scientifically, Viridian is a biological hermaphrodite. Since this is a fantasy novel, biology doesn't have to work the same way it does in real life. This isn't something that's possible in human beings, but it could very well be possible in a hypothetical race of humanoid creatures like the fey.
Viridian initially identifies as male, however, because there are only two sex/gender assignments available in Rus and Arubian culture. Over time, it becomes more apparent that Viridian is un- happy with this designation, and that fon doesn't “fit the mold.” In this sense, Viridian's journey features some gender dysphoria, a feeling that fons gender identity doesn't align with fons biological sex. This mimics something of the experience of many genderqueer persons. Later, however, it turns out Viridian's assumptions about fons sex are incorrect. Viridian is actually both male and female in a biological sense. Fon is most certainly nonbinary. It becomes more apparent that fey don't conform to the strict gender binary Arubian culture imposes, neither in terms of a socially constructed gender identity nor even in terms of biological sex. As a result, everyone has to adjust their expectations.
Obviously, Viridian's journey deals quite extensively with both gender identity and biological sex identity. While some of fons journey might resemble the experiences of genderqueer persons, it is by no means reflective of a human experience. Nor does it represent the experience of every genderqueer or nonbinary person; it would be impossible to ever accurately represent that breadth of experience in a single book.
Another issue may linger in the minds of readers: the pre- sentation of race, Arubian culture, and the inherent dangers of Orientalism. As a white writer, I have to acknowledge my portrayal of Arubian culture is indeed rooted in Western stereotypes about Arabic peoples and cultures. I hesitated to set the book in “the desert,” even as a fantasy setting, knowing I was likely invoking stereotypes. But I was compelled: I wanted to create more diverse characters for my book. As a result, Tarquin is a non-white hero, and Amira, Zahir, Tullia, and others in the cast are also characters of color. This is something becoming increasingly common in fantasy, a genre that tends to be heavily dominated by whiteness. My real-life experience is not strictly white, nor are the worlds I imagine. I defer, of course, to own voices writers of all stripes who are contributing to expanding all of our worlds, both real and imagined. I firmly believe they shouldn't bear the burden of doing this alone, and so I humbly offer up my own contribution, rife with flaws and imperfect understandings and problematic representations as it may be.
Finally, no romance novel today is complete without address- ing the issue of consent. Consent is particularly important in this book, I think, because Tarquin and his relatives are incubi. As indicated in the story, Tarquin and his ilk are very good at manipulating people.
This manipulation takes an incubus into an ethical gray area as far as consent is concerned. Are Tarquin's partners sleeping with him willingly, of their own free will, or has he coerced and manipulated them? I hope it's clear that relations between Tarquin and Viridian are consensual. Viridian is usually an enthusiastic participant, and fon is quite comfortable both giving and withdrawing consent. Tarquin, in most cases, is respectful of those decisions. That said, Tarquin does become a problematic character because of his nature, and we'd do well to keep it in mind. I certainly have tried to while writing, and I hope to have demonstrated, at least somewhat, how consent can and should work.
All books and characters are necessarily problematic and messy. If they weren't, they wouldn't be relatable nor would they do a good job of reflecting “life,” which is a problematic and messy experience. What matters more is how such problematic messiness is dealt with on the page. Some readers will find that these issues have been handled in a satisfactory way. Others will surely see shortcomings and issues. The most important thing in these scenarios is to keep the conversation going. Why were these things problematic, what can authors do better, and how can we strive forward?
All the shortcomings and errors left in the book are my own. I'd like to offer sincere thanks to Nikki Bell, my editor and my beta readers. You've made this book better. I also extend my thanks TCR, my partner, as well as to the rest of my family and friends, who show me unconditional love and support even if they think what I do is weird. I'd also like to thank my readers, both fans and non-fans; your support and your time means the world to me. And I'd like to thank the people I follow on social media for continually offering up great analysis and drawing my attention to a multitude of important issues. Your voices are important, so thank you for sharing them.
