Chapter 720 The Royal Degree

Back in the Fae realm…

The palace was never this bustling unless there was a celebration, but today was different, and for good reason.

Their princess had practically destroyed half their homes during sex last night. Yes, while Alaric was summoning thunder and lightning that shook the entire earth, it hadn’t struck one place but many.

Now, a long line of faeries stood outside the throne room door, each ready to present their complaints and demand compensation.

Although Queen Seraphira sat upon her throne, it was Lila, Rhara, and Lord Taryn who presided over the session while the queen “rested.”

No one knew of the Queen’s incident last night. And while she should have been recuperating, her absence during such a dramatic aftermath would have been far too suspicious. Queen Seraphira would rather die than give Baron control over her court again.

The sight was not funny.

Right now, Fae of every size, and type packed the floor in a snaking line that stretched all the way to the courtyard.

Queen Seraphira reclined on her throne, her posture so relaxed that one would never think she was unwell.

Lila and Rhara stood on both sides of the dais, while Lord Taryn sat at a smaller desk, elegant as ever, sipping a drink and mentally preparing for the stress ahead.

The first petitioner stomped forward.

It was a brownie matriarch, no taller than Lila’s thigh, but radiating enough rage to fell an army. Her gray hair was wrapped in a kerchief patterned with tiny mushrooms, and her apron was singed.

She curtsied to the queen, then stated her complaint.

“Our entire warren fell off the oak thanks to the thunderstorm last night.”

Lila’s mouth fell. “The entire thing?”

It was a known fact Brownies build their warrens inside oak roots, where they value peace and stability above all else.

Unfortunately, Alaric’s lightning rattled the entire forest, causing their underground dwellings to collapse and send their families tumbling out. For brownies, that’s the ultimate household catastrophe.

“Everything!” the brownie snapped. “Do you know what it is to have sixteen screaming grandbabies raining down in the middle of the night because someone in the palace forgot that thunder echoes through roots?”

Rhara coughed into her hand to hide a laugh, unlike Taryn who looked miserable trying to keep a straight face.

“Lady Mosswhistle,” Taryn said gracefully, “the court acknowledges the structural inconvenience. Your demand for recompense?”

“We want a new tree,” Mosswhistle declared. “One with thicker roots and no direct line to the princess bed chamber.”

Seraphira lifted one brow, just enough to quiet the room.

“The crown will assign earth wielders to reinforce your oak and enchant the roots against future disturbances. You may also claim a new pantry set from the palace stores.”

Mosswhistle’s anger faltered. “A new pantry?”

“Yes, all made from crystals instead of clay and holds heat and cold. Not to mention shatter proof even in eh… beast-made thunderstorms.”

The brownie tried to keep her scowl but greed won. “Fine. But if that thunder beast shakes my rafters, I will personally march in here with all sixteen grandbabies.”

“Noted,” Rhara said dryly. Stars forbid those sixteen grandbabies come marching into the palace the next time Violet “shakes the foundations” again.

“Next.”

A trio of river nymphs flowed forward, their dresses still damp and hair frizzed so badly it looked like they had lost a fight with a storm cloud.

“Our pool boiled,” the tallest announced, hands on her hips. “Do you know what lightning through water does to our glamours?”

Lila winced. “I can imagine.”

“It fried our hair,” the smallest wailed, tugging a brittle curl. “Do you know how long it takes to coax this shine back with moonlight and kelp oil?”

“Your sacrifice will be sung about for generations,” Taryn said sarcastically.

Lila shot him a look and he shrugged it off. Lord Taryn’s jokes were the worst.

Rhara said to them, “The court offers your kind a full restoration. New glamours, fresh stones for your grotto, and a week of exclusive use of the palace hot springs.”

The middle nymph perked up. “Exclusive?”

“With temperature regulation,” Lila added. “And thunder wards, of course.”

The nymphs exchanged a look, coming to a conclusion.

“Very well,” their leader said, flicking the wet hair over her shoulder. “But perhaps next time the lightning beast can keep his storms above the cloud line, and not inside our river.”

And just like that, they left the same way they came.

“Next,” Rhara called quickly.

A swarm of pixies flew forward, a dozen glowing bodies buzzing around each other’s heads. One of the bold pixies with wings, a violent neon green, stepped out as their spokesperson.

“We were sleeping,” he accused, jabbing a thumb at his chest. “when the sky exploded. Repeatedly.”

“It rattled the dew off our flowers,” a green-wing pixie snapped. “Do you know what that does to pollen schedules?”

“We also heard screaming,” a third piped up. “A different kind of screaming that wasn’t educational.”

“Goddess above,” Rhara knew what they were talking about. Eveyone heard it.

Seraphira smiled just a fraction. They were really cute. “You have a complaint, little spark, or are you simply offering a review?”

The pixie puffed out its chest and demanded. “We want compensation. Extra nectar rations for the next moon, and a ward over the pixie fields that dampens thunder after midnight.”

Taryn tilted his head. “So you wish the royal household to fund your nightlife.”

“Yes,” green-wing said promptly.

“Approved,” Queen Seraphira said. “You will receive two extra nectar deliveries and a localized quiet ward. Next.”

The line moved of course. A dryad with singed leaves, a stone sprite whose boulders had cracked, a terrified flock of glow moth shepherds whose lanterns had shattered. What was common was that each had a story all tied back to the same storm that had rolled out of the princess’s chamber like a shockwave.

By the time a bog fae shuffled forward, smelling strongly of swamp and mood, the Queen’s head hurt.

“The thunder scared my mire beasts, and they stampeded. One of them sat on my house.” he complained.

The boe Fae’s skin was the color of wet moss, and had eyes like underground lakes.

“Was anyone injured?” Lila asked, bracing herself.

“My pride.” He sniffed. “And my stew pot.”

“We will have builders reinforce your bank and deliver new cookware,” Taryn said, yawning. “Perhaps avoid housing under stampede paths in the future.”

The bog grumbled, but took the deal.

On and on it went with complaints, bargains, and compensations. Fae nitpicked and haggled over the size of trees,how many extra jars of honey counted as a proper apology, and so on.

By the third hour, Queen Seraphira had made a silent royal decree to herself: thunder wards were going up in this palace, and the entire realm was going to adopt them by force if necessary.

She was not living through this nightmare again.

And until those wards were installed, Violet was—by royal decree—banned from having sex.