Free Downs, Jana - Ravyn's Destiny [Ravyn Warriors 3] (Siren Publishing Allure ManLove) by Jana Downs Page B

room as Salvatore, it at least gave him marginal relief. His day was suddenly much brighter.
    He made a final adjustment to his outfit and strode out of his bedroom and down the hall to the Upper Court. It was the Court of his nobles. It was a smaller gathering of people than the General Court that he held every other week, so he knew almost all of his courtiers by name. Heck, he’d grown up with most of them or at least been young enough to have socialized with them before he became King. His mother’s Court had been stationed in the Deep South then. Georgia. He’d loved it when he was younger and was really disappointed to see her move it north into Canada after the Civil War. He’d been a young buck then, just old enough by fae standards to raise some hell, and the love of Georgia had never really left him after he’d sewn his oats and moved on to Underhill. It was one of the reasons he retained his mint-julep southern drawl.
    He waved his hand in greeting and crossed the white marble floor to his throne. It was one of the original ones left over from the first fae to live Underhill, and it had a potent, untamed magick to it that was connected to the very soul of the realm. It enabled him to connect to each and every one of his people and they to him. It was enormous. The trunk of a tree, which at one time must’ve dwarfed the palace itself in terms of height, took up the entire wall. The back of it went straight up through the ceiling and out the roof for several hundred feet. Every inch was carved with images of legends, morality tales, even children’s fables. A weeping willow was carved like a halo around where he sat, the names of every King and Queen to grace it magically engraved in each willowy branch. He sat on the surprisingly comfortable seat and relaxed into the magical embrace.
    “Welcome, everyone. I trust you’ve had a productive week?” A chorus of greetings met his. Court was not just a time to bring complaints to their King but to introduce new family members, ones who had come of age, and petition their King for favors. All around, though tedious, it was an enjoyable time.
    Mar and Quis appeared to his right and left consecutively. His advisors were dressed in the silver and gold of his Court, and they inclined their heads in greeting to him. They both looked well rested and freshly showered. They’d probably been with Salvatore.
    His people formed a line at the end of his dais, waiting to be called forward by Destin. He spared another glance toward his advisors. He ached to ask the question that was on the tip of his tongue. Destin gave himself a mental shake. He’d see for himself afterward.
    “He’s fine, my lord,” Mar offered, taking out a small scroll and quill from the vest pockets. “He has much more control than you would imagine.”
    “He’s also become quite proficient in the art of male loving,” Quis added with a sly look. “Though we’ve saved his back entrance for your eventual use. His mouth and cock are quite superb.”
  Destin choked on his own spit and glared at the two mischievous advisors before glancing back at the Court. They all seemed to be sporting the same Cheshire cat grins. He frowned. Was he imagining things?
    “I will not make him my Consort. I’ve said this before. Do not speak of it again.” He made his voice as hard as he could manage, but the tone still held no conviction, even in his mind. The two advisors bowed unapologetically.
    “Of course, my King. Forgive us,” Mar said, going back to his scroll. He signaled the first set of people to come forward.
    Court went by at the steady pace in the usual way. Within the first twenty minutes he’d welcomed the new baby Lord and Lady Trendle had had in his absence, settled a land debate between two trolls who were both as guilty of greed as they could be, and had given his blessing to a union between one of his guardsmen, Daren, and his new Consort, Develle.
    He was in a good mood and was just