The longer I stare, the more similarities I see.
Their cheekbones… The shape of their jaws…
Ever’s fatheristhe bloody King of Willowhaven.
That would make Ever Ronan’s half-brother—hisolderhalf-brother. If I’m right, then Ronan isn’t the heir to the kingdom.
Ever is.
Ever can’t stay in Rosehill. He needs to get as far from this place as he can. “Run!” I scream.
Our eyes connect, and he must recognize the panic pulsing through me because his heels dig into the cobblestones. The guards holding him falter, trying and failing to drag him closer.
In a blink, Ever is free, but instead of doing as I commanded, he sprints toward the dais.
To save me.
I wave my hands even as I race toward him. “No! Go back to The Divide!”
Ronan lunges only to catch my veil. The comb holding it in place flies out of my hair as I leap to the ground. The rest of the Unseelie unsheathe their weapons, forming a circle to defend themselves against the Seelie guards. A circle that doesn’t include the man I love.
I don’t care how fearsome they are, they’re wearing no armor, and their daggers are a lot shorter than the guards’ swords. They’re not prepared for this battle.
What am I even thinking? This isn’t a battle.
It’s a bloomin’ ambush.
Screams fill the air as people hunker behind their chairs and run up the street, away from the melee. Footsteps pound an uneven beat behind me, growing closer and closer. Ronan grabs my hair, yanking me back against his chest. His golden blade meets my throat, and I freeze under its sting. I manage to catch a glimpse of the ornate hilt between his clenched fist. There, in between the gemstones, is the unmistakable crimson stain of blood.
Ronan does not hunt, nor does he eat meat.
Why would his dagger be bloody?
Did he cut himself?
Or did he cut someone else?
Ever’s gaze locks with mine, and he goes utterly still. Rage burns in his narrowed eyes, his muscles coiling like a cobra prepared to strike. He roars for the rest of the Unseelie to drop their weapons, and although they don’t look happy about it, they lower their daggers.
The guards pass all of them, circling Ever instead. They catch his hands and chain them behind his back.
I buck my hips against Ronan’s hold, but he only presses the blade deeper into my windpipe. “You’re a coward,” I wheeze out. “Using me to get to him.”
“I am merely a practical man. When I see a problem, I find a solution.”
“What do you want?” Clearly, it’s not me. What is Ronan’s end goal?
“Just wait and see,” he breathes against my cheek.
The guards drag Ever to the dais. The queen pushes to her feet, her face a mask of ethereal calm while the king gasps for breath, still clinging to the throne. He unfastens the clasp on his mantle, letting the heavy fur fall to the ground as he fumbles with the buttons on his collar.
Nolan emerges from the crowd, his eyes as cold as death as his voice booms through the square. “Everett Gathin, you are under arrest for the murder of Trevor Dillon.”
Ronan finally loosens his hold on me and cleans my blood from his blade against his thigh.
Don’t they see? “Ever didn’t kill anyone.” I whirl to where the king still hasn’t said a bloody word. “Please, Your Highness, you must stop this. You know who he is.”
The king’s jaw drops, beads of sweat dripping down his brow. “I have never met that man before in my life.”
