Nia stands next to me, her face smeared with dirt, blood, and tears. Behind her, Maddox clutches his bleeding arm. “I am a citizen of Rosehill, and I demand access to the well.”
“I demand access to the well,” my father’s voice booms as he sidles up behind us.
Followed by another fae I’ve never seen before. And another. And another.
The guards exchange wide-eyed glances before the one at the front steps forward. “Sire, don’t you think?—”
“Hold your post, General, or you will be branded a traitor and relieved of duty.”
A woman appears from what remains of the crowd, one I recognize from Trevor’s favorite café. In her trembling hands, she holds a cup of water. “From my bakery,” she says, extending the glass toward Ever.
Slowly, he reaches for the water, as if worried he’ll scare her away. “Thank you for your kindness,” he says, taking the cup and drinking his fill.
She offers him the smallest smile, then pushes her way through the people, back into the café.
A man and woman emerge from a building in the square clutching canning jars filled to the brim with water. They come to a halt in front of us, offering one to me and one to Maddox. I use one to wash and clean the wound at Ever’s side. Worry doesn’t lessen its grip on my chest until the gash starts to knit back together.
More Seelie race into buildings, emerging with glasses and mugs and pitchers of water from their taps. Water they offer to the wounded Unseelie fae.
Ronan calls us traitors, threatening all manner of punishment.
No one pays him any heed.
Gryffin stomps toward the well, scowling at the guard who tries to stop him. The man must realize the threat because he quickly steps aside. Once his flask is full, Gryffin goes to where Ivee whimpers, her right leg drenched in blood. She snatches the flask without so much as a word of thanks, dumping its contents onto her tights.
“You,” Ronan snarls, hatred bleeding from his hardened blue eyes as he glowers at me.
Nolan limps over to his friend, his eyes narrowed. “Kerris didn’t kill Trevor Dillon. Ronan did.”
Nia’s hands fly to her pale cheeks, but I’m too stunned to move. To breathe.
How could the prince do such a thing to his own friend?
Ronan turns his scowl on his former guard, the veins in his neck bulging with rage. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
“What I should have done the moment I realized what a twisted bastard you were.”
The general’s head swivels between Ronan and Nolan. The guards who aren’t nursing their wounds stalk forward, not to Ronan’s defense, but to Nolan’s.
“King Ronan ordered us to kill any Unseelie fae who crossed the bridge,” a guard with a bushy beard announces.
“Lies!” Ronan spits, his backside ramming into the well as he tries to back away from their accusations.
“King Ronan went to the victim’s house on the night of his death,” another chimes in.
Where were all these cowards when I was being faced with charges of murder? How could they let me die for the prince’s crimes?
“Who are you going to believe?” Ronan warbles. “These traitors or your king?”
The crowd presses in on all sides; the blinders they’ve been wearing have fallen away. The Unseelie aren’t the monsters they feared. The true monster has been hiding in Castle Rose all along.
Ronan’s cornflower eyes find mine once more, narrowing into slits. He tears the sword from the general’s grip and lunges for me.
Trips.
And lands on the blade.
A pitiful gurgle falls from his lips, blood gushing out in a macabre pool.
