by Mila Young
I nod. “We need to find her fast, as Mother will hunt us down herself if we miss the wedding. It's meant to begin shortly, and we’re not even dressed yet.”
Luther huffs. “I fucking hate this wedding.” He pivots on his heels and storms out of the room and into the hallway. I do the same and decide to commence searching from the top of the mansion, then make my way down. There are so many empty rooms; maybe we missed something on the first sweep.
Around the next corner, I walk right into Jasion, who rushes without looking. Stumbling back, I groan while he bows his head.
“Apologies, Your Highness, for not seeing you. This is a manic day, and I have so much to prepare for the ceremony.”
As much as I dislike the mage, I don’t miss the opportunity to ask, “Have you seen Gu-Gainy?”
He stiffens at my question, piquing my curiosity.
“Well?” I urge him, stepping closer, my gut twisting in on itself. I’ve always hated him. As far as I’m concerned, no one will miss him if he’s booted out of our court.
“This morning,” he says and clears his throat, lifting his gaze to me. “I saw her just after dawn.”
Hope springs to life inside me. “Where?” I eagerly ask, leaning forward.
“I was looking out the window as I awoke, and she was running through the woods outside the kingdom walls.”
“What?!” I shout, unsure if I heard right. “Are you sure you saw right? There are fucking Bloodcursed out there.”
He nods, his face paling, and there’s fear in his eyes. Fear of me—and this isn’t the Jasion I know. His behavior is strange, and that’s saying a lot for him.
“I thought it was strange too, but I only saw her for a few moments and she was fine, so I just assumed all was well and someone was watching her back. I thought nothing more of it.”
I’m fuming as I snatch him around the neck and slam him against the wall. “Why the fuck didn’t you come and tell someone right away?”
He clasps my wrist as I squeeze his neck. How incredible it would be to get this weasel out of our lives for good. I’ve never liked or trusted him, but what reason would he have to lie about this? And… his story fits perfectly with the notion that she couldn’t bear to be here during Ahren’s marriage, so she ran away.
An invisible hand seems to wrap around my heart, constricting, the aching sorrow escalating. She wouldn’t leave Luther and I… but that’s something I struggle to believe, even after everything we’ve been through.
Jasion is hitting my arm, his face turning blue. Oh, right. Probably best I don’t choke Ahren’s mage to death on this auspicious day.
I pull my hand back and he falls to the ground, his knees buckling under him, gasping for air.
“The second you see her, bring her right to me, understand?” I growl.
He nods. “Of course, Your Highness,” he croaks.
I can’t stand to even look at him a moment longer, so I turn and march down the corridor, making my way down to the stables. Looks like I’m taking a quick trip along the walls for any signs of Guendolyn and pray to the gods that she’s alive.
I’ll tear down this whole fucking realm to find her if that’s what it takes.
Guendolyn
I burst out of darkness and into a dimly lit room. My eyes scan the surroundings, expecting to see my bedroom in the mansion.
Except, that’s not where I end up, is it? The stench of the dungeon assaults my nostrils as I stand right back in the locked cell.
“Oh, fuck no!” I spin toward the portal that has vanished and curse the damn thing for never listening to my instructions.
I rub my eyes from irritation, ready to scream. I lift my hand to my mouth, but doubt floods me. God only knows where I’ll end up. But when I remember my mother’s words, I know I have no time to waste—I have to try.
Part of me just wants to celebrate that I found my real mother, that I finally understand my past. Sure, it was majorly fucked up, but it’s a start to piece it all together and attempt to move on. So for that, I’ll go in and out of my portal as many times as needed, pushing my limits until it takes me where I ask.
I remind myself that I have fairy powers, whatever that means. If I knew how to wield them, I’d zap out of here in a heartbeat and smite all those who’ve hurt me and those I love. Though considering how much difficulty I’ve had with utilizing my power, I somehow feel that it’s going to take quite a bit of time to harness them.
Geez, what I wouldn’t give for a manual—Using Fairy Powers 101.
A sudden creak of the main door into the dungeon erupts, along with footfalls.
I freeze over, terror clinging to me with the fear that it’s Jasion returning.
Frantically, I press the base of my palm to my mouth, sucking in a breath.
“Gainy? What in the world are you doing here?” a familiar male’s voice murmurs.
I twist my head and almost cry with happiness when I lay eyes on Michae. “Oh my god, you found me!” I dart across the filthy floor and lunge myself at the metal bars, shaking them. “Let me out, please, before Jasion returns.”
“He put you in here?” His voice carries a quiver.
“The bastard accused me of killing the king and is planning to murder me, plus he’s in cahoots with some old fae I’ve never seen before. God, Michae, please get me out.” I’m rambling and bouncing on my toes, half expecting the mage to burst in here and murder him before he can set me free.
Michae searches the place but comes back with sorrowful eyes. “The spare key isn’t here. I need to it.”
I nod, my stomach twisting that he’s going to leave me. “Please hurry!”
“Yes, I will,” he assures as he rushes out, leaving me alone.
I pace back and forth and pray I’m not making the wrong decision to wait.
Chapter 15
Ahren
“Where are they?” I ask Mael, frustration bleeding into my tone. “My brothers couldn’t have just disappeared.”
His brown eyes are wild with worry, and he keeps combing his fingers through his short, white hair in a nervous twitch. Like everyone else, he’s dressed for the wedding in black pants and a leather doublet with silver buttons down the front. The fabric pulls across his middle, and his brow is moist with perspiration.
“Your Highness, I’ve sent the guards for another search through the grounds. We will find them.”
I huff and turn away, biting my tongue. It’s not him I’m furious at. It’s this whole fucked-up situation. I’m here, waiting for the maids to bring my ceremonial clothes, and it’s killing me. I want this shit day over with.
Today I will marry a princess, a stranger, a woman I don’t desire, and the coronation ceremony will take place immediately after. The kingdom is celebrating my ascension to king, and I tell myself over and over that once I am in that position of power, I can change things.
Well, all things except the ability to have the woman I want by my side.
I had hoped Luther and Deimos would join me today for support, but it seems I’ve been forgotten, left behind. One more reason to hate this day.
“Having cold feet?” a male voice slices through my thoughts, a voice that sends chills through me.
“Father,” I hiss through clenched teeth and turn to find him walking into my chamber.
“I was rather disappointed, son, that it’s only now I get a chance to come and give you my blessings. I always knew you’d rise to something big. You just needed the right push.”
The corded muscles in my neck tense. “That’s not how I remember it,” I answer, exhausted of the games—and the day has only just commenced.
He smiles at me, a rarity from the man who reminded me daily that I would never amount to anything, that I was weak, who told me that his beatings would strengthen me.
“Enough. Leave,” I growl before I drive my fist into his face.
He doesn’t move. “Son, I will admit some of the animosity between us might be my doing. I tau
ght you the same way my father did me. Plus, I should have visited you here long ago to make peace between us. For that I hope you can forgive me, and we can begin a new path of truce.”
I stare at him incredulously. Is he fucking joking? Who the hell is this man? My father would never grovel.
“What do you want?” I snarl, my pulse racing, throbbing through my veins.
The usual anger I'm used to seeing on his face is replaced with something pitiful. Has my father gone senile? Or did my father invite him not just for the sake of diplomacy but because she has accepted the past as just that. Is this a clue that maybe we ought to do the same… if Mother can stand to face this fae for a few days to ensure relations with us and the east of the realm aren’t broken, then maybe I can do the same?
“To be with my sons, and make up for lost time.”
I struggle with my thoughts about following Mother’s direction and blink at him in disbelief. Flames engulf my insides still the same. When I look at him, all I remember are his angry fits, the beatings, and the repeated times he ripped the flesh off my wings until it never grew back. That shit is something I'll never get over or forgive. I should have made it clear to my mother not to invite him.
“I don't have time for whatever scheme you have going, now that you know I’m about to take the throne. Maybe it’s fear or stupidity that brings you here, but Father, the bridge between us fell apart long ago and there is no mending it.”
He stares at me with contempt, an expression I’m much more familiar with. There’s my real father. “I hope, over time, you can reconsider.”
Without waiting, he lifts his chin high and turns around, his coat whipping around him as he leaves my room.
Today is going to kill me. It pisses me off that Mother insisted we invite that asshole to my wedding and coronation. It's a day I'll never forget, everyone tells me. And I agree, except it won't be for the reasons they assume.
Moments later, several maids appear at my door, looking at me expectantly. The brunette curtsies as she announces, “Your Highness, we are here to finish dressing you.”
I huff. I know fighting this is futile. Such events are planned down to the most minute detail, so I wave them in, then let them fuss about with my clothes. I’m already wearing my black pants, and I remove my top to make it easier for the maids, who now flutter around me like fairies.
The thought of fairies brings Guendolyn to mind, and my heart constricts. Neither of us asked for this ending.
When the maids are finished, I look down at my deep blue, cut-velvet coat that drapes down to the floor. The edgings of the front and high collar are richly embroidered in gold, the designs resembling the sun and stars, the river and earth. The elements that combine to make up our realm. A maid takes my hand and pushes golden rings on my fingers, as is customary. Only one finger remains bare, waiting for the bride to adorn it during the ring exchange.
The ladies step back and admire me. They smile, proud of their work, but I feel like a fraud. Am I deserving of this role when I carry such heavy doubts?
“Thank you,” I offer, and they bow, then hurry from my chamber.
Before I can take a peaceful breath on my own, my mother walks in. It’s like my chamber is an entertainment hall. Is there a line outside my room of everyone in the palace coming to visit me?
“You look spectacular, just like a king should.” She's at my side in moments, her embroidered silk gown as blue as the bright sky. Long-sleeved, her dress carries a high collar and follows her form before falling to her ankles. Small white flowers dot her curled hair, and she wears no crown or tiara, showing she approves of passing the position of Queen to my future bride.
“I’m not ready,” I admit out loud.
She steps closer and cups my face. I study the deep lines at the corners of her eyes, the tiredness in her gaze, the grief still clinging to her forced smile. Now that she's lost her husband, it’s up to me to care for her. Family is the reason I can't walk away from the throne.
“It's normal to be nervous, Ahren. But you've been preparing for this role your whole life. You just need to be yourself; everything else will fall into place. I'm right here by your side.” She beams a glorious smile, and for a few moments, she makes me believe this will be incredible. Then I remember the ache in my chest, the emptiness in my heart, and the unbearable decision I’ve made.
“Are you ready to become king?” she whispers, the glint of tears collecting in her eyes with pride.
I used to dream about the day someone would ask me that question. Now, I wish more than anything I could turn it down.
Guendolyn
“Please hurry,” I gasp.
I lift my head to Michae standing outside my cell, fiddling with a metal key he jabs into the hole. Finally, the door swings open. I run out and throw myself at my guard, wrapping my arms around his neck.
“Thank you, thank you, thank you.”
He stumbles and laughs quietly, almost nervously.
“We have no time,” he reminds me.
Breaking from him, I nod. “You’re right. We have a wedding to stop.”
His face blanches. “Umm, that’s not what I had in mind. I was thinking of getting away before Jasion can find us, not being incarcerated for challenging royalty.”
“You just have to take me to Luther and Deimos, and they will do the rest.”
“Yes, miss. Now move quickly and quietly so we can get out of here before the mage returns.” He takes the lead, and I stay close behind. Fear bubbles over me with the expectation that any moment now Jasion will curl around the corner of the stairwell. And I worry that Michae alone can’t stop him.
Once out of the dungeon, we rush upstairs, my heart banging in my chest. By the time we reach the main door to exit the staircase, I’m breathing heavily.
Michae opens the door, peers out, then waves for me to follow him. I exhale loudly before swinging right to dart down the corridor decorated with animal statues. I’ve spent so much time in the mansion that I now recognize where we are going… right for the palace.
Abruptly, Michae turns toward me, snatches my arm, and shoves me with him into a room right next to us.
My pulse drums in my veins, and I catch the fear on his face. With the door shut, we both stay silent.
Male voices come from out in the hallway, and when a laugh comes, fire flares over me. It’s Jasion.
I inhale softly while I look around the empty room in an attempt to calm myself. I never thought I’d hate someone as much as I do him. Just hearing his voice has my skin crawling. I want to strangle him, except my priority is getting to Ahren. And that means not getting caught by letting anger take me over.
When Michae clicks open the door, I freeze in place as he pops his head out and checks the hallway.
“All clear,” he assures me.
I slip out, and we rush forward just as Luther bursts through the door that leads to the bridge between the two buildings.
I don’t know who’s more shocked—me, who flinches, or Luther, whose eyes practically bulge out of his head.
For a second, we all remain frozen, stunned. Then I push past Michae and run right at Luther. Throwing my arms around his chest, I press my cheek over his heart and don’t let go.
His hands are on my shoulders, and he forces me to look at him. “Little wolf, where the hell have you been? We’ve been searching everywhere, and I couldn’t reach you with my mind.”
I meet his gorgeous but worried amber eyes. “Down in the dungeon. Jasion kidnapped me.”
His body tenses, his upper lip curling. “I’m going to fucking murder him.”
Chapter 16
Luther
“We don’t have time,” Guendolyn cuts me off. “I have to stop Ahren’s wedding before it’s too late.”
I stare at her, unsure if this is a result of her not accepting Ahren’s decision, or if something else is going on. “You know it’s the only way he can claim the throne, little wolf.” My heart tightens,
as I know this is killing her. “You will always have Deimos and me, baby.” I draw her closer by her shoulders, but she brushes me away, anger twisting her lips.
“I know that!” she blurts. “You don’t understand. There’s so much I have to tell you, and fast. You need to be open-minded, alright?” She looks up and down the hallway as if to ensure we’re the only ones around. Michae stands several feet away, but we’re otherwise alone.
Leaning in closer, she whispers, “My real father was King Tibout. Eighteen years ago, he had an affair with the queen of Ash Court. I am their child. This is why those in power who know the truth want me dead. Because I’m the rightful heir to both kingdoms.”
What the fuck?! My head is spinning. This is nothing like what I expected her to tell me. I was thinking along the lines of her sorrow and deciding she can't live here any longer.
I turn to her. "Where is this coming from?"
She grabs my arm, and I feel her shaking. "When we were at Ash Court to get the cure for Deimos, the king's mother told me about my father, and I should have told you and your brothers right then, but I didn't want to take away from Ahren claiming the throne. He deserves it. That's not what I want..." She pauses, breathing heavily, while my mind reels. “The most important thing here is that if I can show that I am the rightful heir to the throne, Ahren doesn't have to marry someone else."
Except she’s wrong. The most important thing here is that she is claiming to be the heir to the throne. But how? “Are you sure?” I ask. “How can you be certain? Did the king say something to you when you spoke to him?” Hundreds of questions barrage my mind.
She blinks at me, confused by my questions, and that’s when it occurs to me—if she is the rightful heir to the throne, it won’t be Ahren, Deimos, or me in line anymore.
I sit with those thoughts for a while. Since moving to Shadow Court, being a prince has been driven into us and we are reminded of it daily. Told that we would hold great power and positioning one day. And suddenly, we’re not.
