“If you wanted my birthright, Pharis, all you had to do was say so. I’d have gladly handed it over to save her.”
“Too little too late, big brother.”
Pharis stretched, yawning in a show of boredom.
“I’ll be going upstairs to my feather bed now,” he said. “Big day tomorrow. Lots of excitement.”
Getting to my feet, I went to the bars of my cell, glaring at Pharis.
“I can’t believe I ever thought I—” I cut myself off.
It was pointless to mention the word “love” in the presence of Pharis Randalin. He didn’t know the meaning of it.
He turned those gleaming blue-green eyes on me and smiled. He actuallysmiled.
“Poor little Wyn, always putting your faith in the wrong people. Such a shame. Your father, the Earthwife, Stellon, who is powerless to save you and too cowardly to do it anyway…”
“You,” I snapped and reached through the bars, trying to slap him.
Pharis laughed and jerked back, just out of my reach. My hand swished through the air in front of his cocky face.
“There’s that feisty spirit I love so much. I believe your bollocks are bigger than my brother’s.”
Taking a step backward, he said, “See you two ‘lovebirds’ tomorrow… in the arena.”
“Go to hell,” I yelled.
“You first, Wildcat,” Pharis said with a wink before he turned and casually strolled away.
I turned back to Stellon. At least I had the opportunity to spend my last night on Earth with him—the prince who actually loved me.
How foolish I’d been to think for even a second that Pharis might be the better match for me.
That he might have cared for me.
That he might have returned the love I hadn’t been able to stop myself from feeling for him.
Hopefully my sisters and father weren’t out there among all those faces filling the royal arena under the bright morning sun.
I prayed my family would never be found, never even hear about this. I wanted them to imagine me traveling the world and seeing all those places and sights Pharis and I had talked about visiting.
The sight before me now, apart from the massive high-walled arena and the buzzing crowd, was the royal family of Avrandar, seated on a raised platform where they’d have the best possible view of the comingentertainment.
All of them wore High Court finery and crowns, holding goblets of wine, though not one of them looked jubilant.
Stellon was bound to his chair by a scarlet rope around his chest and wore an expression of absolute misery. How horrible for him, to be forced to watch this.
He’d been taken out of the dungeon a couple hours before me this morning, but he’d be a prisoner the rest of his life to his diabolical father’s will.
King Pontus was looking at him, obviously disgusted at his firstborn son for actually being sad over my impending death.
Mareth was crying. I was sad I’d never gotten the chance to know her. She seemed like a good soul.
And Pharis. Pharis sat there in his golden chair dressed in a gold-trimmed black tunic, looking calm and rested as if he’d gotten a great night’s sleep.
Devastatingly handsome as always, he scanned the arena, taking in the turnout of Fae and humans alike. I briefly wondered if the King had sold tickets to pad his already enormous fortune.
As I glared up at Pharis, sending unspoken curses, he turned his head to look down at me. And smirked.
