But I have a job to do.
The door slams behind Lydia and Rhion, though her sobs echo distantly down the hall.
Slowly, Bram rises from his throne and descends the steps of the dais to his mother and me.
Mor tries to pass the knife to him, but he waves it away.
“Bram?” I whisper. I look into his storm-cloud-gray eyes one last time.
I take a step closer to him and extend my hands toward his face, like I’m going in for one last kiss. His eyes soften.
Then I pull Ferrinus from where it’s hidden in the inner pocket of my cloak, and drive it directly into his heart.
Chapter Twenty-Four
At first, I think my ears are ringing, but as the panicked roaring in my head clears, I realize it’s Queen Mor, screaming behind me.
The heavy knife falls from my hand and slides across the polished marble floors, leaving a trail of dark blood in its wake.
When Emmett and I first conceived of this plan, I promised him I’d run after I stabbed Bram. That I’d find some way back to him in England.
I lied. I never had any intention of leaving this room alive.
Behind me is a crowd of courtiers so thick I have no chance of making it through them, and stationed at all the exits are royal guards in blue-and-gold livery, armed to the teeth.
And in front of me—
In front of me, Bram’s crumpled body begins to stir.
I lunge for the knife, ready to strike another blow if I need to, but it doesn’t make any sense—I struck true. I felt the sickening snap of his breastbone and the squelch as the knife drove its way into his heart.
Lady Thalia appears at the edge of the crowd and snatches the knife from the floor with a revolting grin.
I lunge, ready to throw my entire body weight at her, but a guard appears behind me and pins my arms behind my back.
I shut my eyes tight, ready for him to slit my throat, or let Queen Mor snuff me out like tallow candle, but nothing comes.
Then I hear laughing.
Bram pushes himself up off the floor and smooths his doublet.
It’s got a sizable gash down the center from where the knife struck, large enough to see his bare chest beneath.
The skin there is the pale pink of recent healing. The blood splattered on his white undershirt is the only evidence there was ever a wound. His body is unmarked, whole and completely fine.
It doesn’t make sense. This was my one chance.
Bram runs his tongue over his full bottom lip as he regards me, squirming in the guard’s grip.
“Take her to the dungeons!” he commands. “I’ll deal with her later.”
Another guard glances to Queen Mor. “And her?”
Bram chews on the inside of his cheek, then gestures to the throne beside him. “She can stay. The party was awfully dull before you showed up.”
An iridescent petal floats down from the eaves and lands on top of Mor’s dark hair. She smirks victoriously.
I don’t bother struggling as the guards drag me down into the darkest depths of the castle. All the fight has leached out of my body the same way the unicorn’s silver blood ran out of its neck and into the dirt.
