Chapter 31: Chapter Twenty-Nine

A/N - As stated in an earlier chapter. Madeline can thank her court with no issues.

Thanks, Luis," I muttered with a grimace, feeling my argument with him dissolve in the face of my embarrassment. I knew he was right, but admitting it stung. If I kept flying off the handle, I'd only prove him right again.

Luis wiped his hand, the one I'd spit on, with a grimace of his own. "Start thinking, Matt," he said, and his voice carried that superior tone he always used when scolding me on Earth. That tone that never failed to set my teeth on edge.

"You're right," I said, my jaw clenched so tightly I thought my teeth might crack. But the truth in his words was undeniable, and I could see the concerned looks from everyone around me. Great. Now I was embarrassing myself in front of my entire court.

"Elect Madeline!" a male voice suddenly called from below.

I turned, thankful for the distraction, and saw five men lying prone at the bottom of the steps.

I hurried down the steps toward them, cheeks still hot from embarrassment. Strangers were starting to gawk. "Hey, don't do that! Please rise!"

The men stood up reluctantly, and I instantly regretted stopping them. Three of the men wore... well, scandalous wasn't strong enough of a word to describe what they wore. Before I could fully register what I was seeing, Luke clamped a hand over my eyes.

"Luke! I'm not a child!" I peeled his fingers away, and glared at him. It was too late anyway. I couldn't unsee the images that had already been burned into my retinas.

The first man to stand was a giant—easily nine feet tall—dressed in nothing but a skin-tight gold lamé bodysuit that clung to his bones like saran wrap. He was gaunt, his skin pulled tight over his sharp features, but there was a raw, haunting beauty about him. His silver-blue hair was shockingly bright against his pale skin, and his silver eyes stared at me with a mix of desperation and hope. He was tall and imposing, but his thin frame told the story of severe malnourishment. My heart clenched at the sight.

The second man to catch my eye was far more familiar—goat-horned and small, the faun I'd seen beaten earlier. He looked even more pitiful up close. His ragged brown tunic barely covered his thin, goat-like legs, and his hooves clicked nervously against the stone steps. His wide, frightened eyes were the color of storm clouds, and his trembling lips made my chest tighten with sympathy. He barely came up to my shoulder, but his presence felt large in its own way, mostly because of the sorrow that seemed to radiate off him.

The third man was a winged creature—almost ethereal in his beauty. He was shorter than the faun, with translucent, membranous wings folded against his frail back. His skin was the color of bone china, so white and delicate it seemed he might break if touched. His large eyes, a haunting mix of green and yellow like a peat bog, tilted up at the corners, giving him a fae-like appearance. He wore nothing but two twisted strips of midnight blue silk that barely covered anything, leaving me to avert my eyes quickly. He was so fragile, so thin, it seemed as though a strong gust of wind would blow him away. Still, he smiled at me, like just standing there in front of me was a victory.

Then there was the centaur. His human torso was bare, but his horse half was worse off—his ribs stuck out, and his flanks were covered in dirt. His coat, which should have been glossy, was matted and dull. His large, dark eyes, framed by thick, fan-like lashes, were weary but kind. He towered over me but held himself with a strange grace for someone so clearly beaten down by life. His long black hair fell in a wild mane around his broad shoulders, but the pride that should have come with being a centaur was completely absent. He was another being in need of saving.

The final man, perhaps the most striking of all, was a satyr. Tall, willowy, and wearing a chest-baring fuchsia shirt with jeans so tight I wondered if he could breathe. His features were so perfect, so beautiful, he could have been a supermodel. His horse-like ears and long, flowing tail twitched nervously as he looked at me. His eyes were a deep, soulful brown, the kind that could lure someone in if they weren't careful. He smiled at me, and I felt my heart stutter. The satyr had an aura of seduction about him that was hard to ignore.

Had they not been so pitiful, I would have squeed like a child again at seeing some of my favorite mythological creatures in person.

I kept my eyes up top, and my expression blank so that I wouldn't humiliate them any further. "So uh, what can I do for you, gentlemen?"

"Ah! She called me a gentleman!" My eyes darted to the small man with wings. I decided to call him "Artful Rags" for the moment.

His um... rags slipped as he pirouetted. Dominic chuckled as my face flamed again.

I nudged Dominic's ribs as he made fun of my embarrassment for the men. He softly chuckled as he slung his arm around me and turned my body so that I could address the men while facing Dom's side.

"Mistress Elect!" the faun—Goat Horns, I decided to call him—spoke up, his voice trembling with desperation. "We see you don't yet have a seventh court member, and we humbly offer ourselves as possible choices."

"Oh, um..." I hesitated, choosing my words carefully. "Thank you, but I already have a seventh member in mind. They're just far away right now."

I wasn't lying. There was someone I had in mind, and he was far away judging from how the root stretched.

The faun's face fell, but he pressed on. "Please, Mistress Elect, consider us. I saw how you tried to help us before. You are a Lady of mercy!"

My heart clenched. These men looked so pitiful, so beaten down by life. Even the centaur's ribs were showing. A wave of sympathy washed over me, and judging by the looks on the faces around me, I wasn't the only one who felt it.

Luke wrinkled his nose. "These men are beggars, slaves, rejected consorts, or worse. It's bad enough your court isn't composed of Sidhe nobles."

"Stop it." I glared up at him. "If we're basing my choices on what they've done in the past, then where does that leave me? I'm not some glossy lady with a silver spoon.

Luke's face tightened, but I could see the shame and pity there. He wasn't just disgusted by their appearance—he was ashamed that this was even a possibility in Aleria.

"Matt, you don't know them," Dominic said gently, with real concern in his voice. "You should be careful."

"They look like extras from a fantasy version of Les Misérables," I shot back, though there was no bite to my words.

"Which is exactly the problem," Dom continued. "Desperate people do desperate things."

Before I could answer, the winged man—Artful Rags—dropped to his knees, hands clasped. "I swear my loyalty, Mistress! I'll give you my true name!"

I froze, the weight of what he was offering settling over me like a heavy blanket. He was offering me complete power over him—trusting me with his true name, something that went beyond a simple oath. I knew from my banmuinen how serious this was. His true name was the deepest, most intimate part of him. If I accepted, I'd have control over his very being. It wasn't something given lightly, and the gravity of the situation hit me hard.

The satyr, not to be outdone, lowered his head and spoke, his voice low and musical. "I will grovel as well, Mistress, if it means serving you. I will give you my true name, too."

I swallowed, glancing briefly at Luke and Ciaran. Luke's lip curled, his distaste obvious, but I didn't need their explanations. I understood exactly what these men were offering me, and it made my chest tighten.

"We'd all be in your eternal debt, Mistress Elect. We all agreed to the oath and our name." This statement was from Mr. Gold Lamé Bodysuit.

This wasn't just desperation. This was a sacrifice. These men weren't just offering their loyalty; they were offering everything.

"I... I don't need your true names right now," I said, my voice soft, trying to find a middle ground. I could feel their fear and hope mingling in the air. "But we'll talk about it later."

Ciaran, who had been watching me with a small smile, finally spoke. "You can take them in, Princess."

I blinked up at him. "How?"

"You make them your concubines. While they won't be official consorts, nor could they ever ascend to be a king, they'd be part of your harem."

"What? I already have six—soon-to-be-seven husbands. I'm getting deep into the woods if I start collecting concubines too. Besides, what could they even do? They are all so sickly looking that I doubt they could keep up if I took them along with us."

"We're useful, I swear it!" Artful Rags said as he rose to his knees to plead with me. "I can read minds—not always—but I can! If a person's not too heavy, I can fly with them. Also, I can create illusions."

He looked like he might be able to carry a sandwich if he had help. I opened my mouth to refuse.

"I could be extra transportation," the centaur added hastily, his hooves clacking against the stone in nervousness. He was trying so hard, despite his obvious frailty.

I drew in an exasperated breath. "If you were healthier, maybe, but right now, I doubt you could carry yourself, let alone me." My mouth opened again to refuse them, but Goat Horns spoke up.

"I know how to heal surface injuries, I know herbs, and I can blend into the forests to surprise enemies."

That caught my attention. "Really?"

He nodded eagerly.

I raised a brow and pulled a small knife from my robe, cutting my finger before Dom and Luis could protest. "Okay, show me."

Goat Horns scrambled forward and, bowing so low he was practically crouching, touched my hand. The cut disappeared in an instant. I gasped, delighted. "Wow! You really can!"

The satyr remained silent, head still bowed, so I turned to him. "And you?"

"I can lure, manipulate, seduce," he said quietly. "I can enhance my physical abilities and senses, and my voice can make someone feel whatever emotion I want them to feel. I can also sense emotions."

"Uh... that could be useful, I guess." I didn't ask him to demonstrate. I already had a strange feeling around him, and I wasn't sure how much I wanted to explore that right now.

Finally, the last man, Gold Lamé Bodysuit, puffed out his chest. "I'm half-frost giant, half-human. I can create ice tools and small storms. My bones are very dense and strong, and I'm sturdier than I look."

He certainly didn't look sturdy, but I believed him. "Do they have to be concubines to come with us?" I whined at Ciaran, already mentally assigning rooms to them. How could I leave them behind when they were so pitiful?

"Afraid so, Princess. Any helpers must be part of your court. It's how Aleria works. And trust me, many men are petitioning your rivals to be concubines. It's a way to rise in station."

"Well... let's talk about this after training," I said, sighing in resignation. I knew I couldn't abandon them. "Meet me at The Mystic Fig later." I pointed at the restaurant across from the temple.

As the men left, Luis groaned. "Damn it, Matt. You've already decided, haven't you?"

I didn't need to answer. The look on my face gave it away, and Luis clenched his jaw, frustrated.

I exhaled slowly, rubbing my temples. "Can somebody give these guys some money for food and clothes?" I paused, glancing back at the group of pitiful figures fading into the distance. "We'll figure it out."

Luis let out a soft, exasperated laugh. "We? This one's all on you, Matt."

I smiled despite myself. "That's true."