Tarrah scrunched her eyebrows together, and then glanced behind Reyna. Immediately, the friendliness in her eyes vanished. “Your Highness, I thought we told you it was best if you stayed in your chambers this night.”
Reyna gripped the edge of the table, carving her fingernails into the wood.
“Reyna,” he said softly.
She came undone. Her name on his lips was the worst and best thing she’d ever heard. Ice splintered around her heart, threatening to shatter completely. A pain so raw scraped against her soul and made her stumble to the side. Gritting her teeth, she hissed to Tarrah, “I can’t do this. I have to go.”
The sadness in Tarrah’s eyes—her enemy’s eyes—sent a new wave of turmoil through her heart. “Of course, Princess. I understand.”
I understand.Ha! How could she possibly understand? Reyna had never opened her heart to a male. Ever. She’d spent her life training for battle, refusing to even entertain the idea of getting distracted by something as pesky as lust. Or even more. She’d made herself hard and strong and fierce. It was what she’d had to do to survive.
And somehow, Lorcan had broken through it all. She had trusted him. She had cared for him.
He’d betrayed her so utterly and completely that she did not think either one of them could survive it if they ever again came face-to-face.
In fact, she hoped hewouldn’tsurvive it.
Her anger toward him did not mean the pain was no longer there. The wound was still fresh and festering.
“Reyna,” he repeated. His own voice sounded wounded, but he did not know the true meaning of pain. Not like she did. “Please. It’s been weeks. Let me speak to you.” A pause. “Let me apologize for what I have done.”
“Never,” she growled through gritted teeth, punching away from the table. She kept her eyes averted from where she knew he stood, glaring hard at the timber beams she quickly rushed across. The door was only a few meters away. Soon, she would reach it and be away from him. Back in her chambers where she knew he wouldn’t come. At least she had a sanctuary there.
A shadow loomed before her. Strong hands grabbed her arms and rooted her in place. Heat and pain roiled through her at his touch.
“Reyna, I am sorry.” His breath whispered across her face, infused with berry wine.
She kept her eyes squeezed shut. She couldn’t look at him.She wouldn’t.
Instead, she smacked at his hands, desperate to get away from him. Her heart roared in her ears. She knew he wouldn’t let go. He would hold her here, force her to stay when her entire body itched to run.
“Don’t touch me,” she hissed, pushing past him. She stumbled toward the door, glad the tears had waited until she got away. The last thing she wanted was for him to see her cry. He didn’t deserve her tears. Not after what he had done to her, and to Eislyn.
Still, she cried for him anyway as she rushed through the mist-enshrouded corridors. They left hot streaks down her cheeks, reminding her just how far from home she truly was. Tears were meant to freeze.
9
Mariel
Mariel stood in the midst of three hundred screaming fae. The crowd had stuffed itself into the square just outside of the Adhradh, the warm spring sun beating down on the tops of their golden heads. The stone statue of the Dagda loomed over them all, his flared wings casting dark shadows on the sight at the top of the steps.
Aengus had called for yet another execution. This was his fourth in mere weeks. Today, he’d brought forth Lady Epona, one of Imogen’s old friends. She’d been hiding out in the castle the day Princess Eislyn had escaped. Rumors had been swirling through Drunkard’s Pit for weeks. Some said Lady Epona had even seen the princess leave and had done nothing to stop her.
And so Aengus had turned his wrath on her next.
Mariel frowned as he motioned to the executioner, a druid Aengus had conned into his schemes. He knelt beside Lady Epona, his brown robes bunched up around his feet. With furrowed brows, the druid gently wrapped the noose around her neck and whispered something into her ear.
Lady Epona gave Aengus a wan smile. “I curse you just as Imogen did. My loyalty is to our former queen.”
Mariel had seen enough. Turning on her heels, she pushed through the teeming crowd to escape the square. She had been witness to three executions thus far, including Imogen’s, and she need not witness another. It would not change a thing. She knew what kind of king—temporary or not—Aengus had become. Sloane Selkirk may have wronged her family, but Imogen and her lady friends had not.
Aengus’s actions were doing nothing but creating turmoil for the realm. Forherpeople. And she knew what lay south. The shadow fae had retaken their Seat of Power. They were intent on vengeance. They wanted to make the Air Court pay for what they had done to them—for their years spent in exile.
War was coming for them, and meanwhile, Aengus continued to strike down anyone who might doubt him, even if the throne was not his to take. He was sowing uncertainty, fear, and division. If he did not stop, the realm would tear itself to shreds far before the shadow fae even stepped foot on air fae soil.
Something must be done.
She heard the crowd let out a collective gasp just as she stepped through the gates. Setting her jaw, she only gave herself a moment’s pause before she started off again, pushing through the wealthy streets that surrounded the castle. Mariel had once known these streets better than she knew the lines in her own palm. They’d been her home. She’d ran through them, barefoot, despite her mother’s protestations. She’d made friends with every merchant, had bought their wares even when they insisted the princess have them free.
