Chapter One
Malachi
Everything is wrong. Food is tasteless, laughter is empty, and sunshine cannot chase the chill that her absence has left in each of our souls. I eyeball the fateful sword lying on the table with disdain. Worthy? What a joke.Why, Daphne? Without me, they could continue to live because they would have you at their side.Now we are fractured, broken, and dangerous men who could level the kingdom they protect just to feel something, anything but this gaping hole in our chests.
Nash strides from his chambers into the living area and skims his gaze over Excalibur with a snarl. He blames me, as do all of my brothers.
“You aren’t ready,” he snaps. “Get it together, Malachi.”
I lean back on the sofa and fold my arms. “I don’t want to attend.”
He drags a hand through his hair with a low growl. “None of us wishes to attend, but it must be done.”
“Can I also give it a miss?” Hart drawls as he joins us, dressed in full finery. I want to tear his clothes to shreds to join the devastation of my soul. The capons totter after him, pecking at his shiny boots. They miss her too.
Nash shakes his head. “It can’t be a coronation without a king.”
“The coronation part is hours away,” Hart says with a frown at the capons. “They don’t need me for the celebration beforehand, only the dreaded crowning.”
Nash turns from us to stare out of the huge arched windows. The sun is still shining, but by midnight, our kingdom will have claimed its new heartbroken king.
“What he said,” I mutter. “Plus, Theo gets a pass.”
“On account of his dragon,” Nash grumbles. I’ve never been jealous of Theo’s dragon before, but losing myself and escaping from this suffocating weight would be seductive. I don’t blame him.
A rap sounds at the door, and Hart swings it open. Gwyneth stalks inside, her eyes red and swollen. The sister of the woman I loved is struggling. We all are, and we should lean on each other to heal. But I don’t want to heal; I want the pain. I want the agony. Anything but this hollowness.
Charming enters, followed by the broom, shuts the door, and leans against the wall. His face is tight as he studies the surviving Stone sister with worry. Not for the first time, I debate running Charming through with the sword I’d been gifted. I think Daphne would approve.
However, we never would have crossed paths with the woman who stole our hearts without him. No, that’s not true. We were fated to meet Daphne. If not through the Cinderella narrative, then another would have brought us together.
“Are you ready?” Gwyneth asks. Her voice is scratchy, like she’s been screaming into a void for days or even weeks. I understand the feeling.
Hart shakes his head, drops into the armchair, and braces his elbows on his knees. “Explain to me again why we are bowing to a narrative when we know you can rewrite our futures.”
“Because I’m still coming to terms with what it means to be a Grimm, and I’m trying to understand the consequences of losing her.” Gwyneth’s voice cracks.
“Daphne,” Nash says with a glance over his shoulder. “Don’t diminish her by omitting her name.”
“I’m not,” Gwyneth snaps. Charming shifts and clasps her hand in his. Wait. When did that happen? “But saying her name steals a piece of my soul each time, and there’s very little left of me. Theo’s retreated into his dragon to cope, while you’ve buried yourself in books that hold no answers to what you want to undo, Nash.” She points at me. “And you’ve taken to fighting anyone who breathes in your direction with your fists.”
I clench my hands, relishing the sting across my knuckles as they split. The pain grounds me. “Fair enough,” I whisper. “We are all doing our best.”
Sir Sweeps-A-Lot brushes against the hem of Gwyneth’s stunning silver dress. She doesn’t even register him. He’s looking for comfort, but without Daphne, he’s neither a gift nor a tool to work the narratives with. He’s as lost as the rest of us.
“So for now, we bend to the will of the Idols,” she commands. “Because I don’t have it in me to fight right now. Let’s not start a war.”
A war sounds good. Loud, busy, consuming.
The tall, cracked mirror we’ve leaned against the wall shimmers, and Eron appears. That’s all this party of doom needs.
“Where is the fairest?” he starts. Sometimes we get Eron, the King of the Land of Reflection, and the man Daphne’s actions resurrected. But he often doesn’t remember she is dead, and then we have to witness his breakdown. It doesn’t get any easier over time. Other times, we get the guy buried under a cloak of guilt for his part in everything that happened. I can sympathize. I prefer the latter because recounting her death and watching the shock penetrate is cruel for both us and him.
“She’s dead,” Gwyneth informs him. Gone is the patience she addressed him with the first few days.
“I can’t witness this again,” Hart snaps as he stands and strides out of the room, likely on the hunt for something to maim and kill.Not without me, brother.I jump to my feet to chase after him, but Nash grabs my shoulder.
“Let him be.”
