“He can’t fully heal right now. Not on the spot like this,” she said as she shrugged the robe over her shoulders. “It’ll take hours for those wounds to close up. Five puncture wounds right in the chest. He’s lucky to live.”
“Yes, but.” Dagen frowned. He had to remember that Bree was not originally from this realm, and she did not quite understand how things worked here. Still, Taveon should have explained all of this to her when she’d offered herself up as champion, a decision that had shaken Dagen to his bones when he’d found out. “The champion who wins is the one who survives the fight. Neither of you can win if you both survive.”
Bree stopped short and glared at him. It was difficult to see her look at him that way. Only a week before, things had been so different between them, but it had all changed when Taveon had begun to show the softer side of himself to Bree.
Dagen could not lie. A part of him was glad she was no longer miserable, but he missed that spark in her eyes, that banter they’d had. She had closed herself off to him, thinking she had to if she was going to take the Prince’s side. Little did she know that he’d been on her side the entire time. He wanted what was best for the realm and nothing more. And he’d had to follow his duties, even if that meant exposing the truth about the Prince.
He almost hadn’t told the Court the truth about Taveon. He had hesitated for so long. In the end, he thought the realm deserved to know the truth.
“I win because I had the clear advantage over him. I could have killed him if I’d wanted to. My claw was at his throat.” Her words were clipped, her tone harsh. “Now, if you’re done, I need to go get some rest for tomorrow’s fight.”
“I am not certain the Court will agree with you, Bree.”
“I don’t care what the Court agrees with. I clearly won.”
He let out a sigh, wishing it could somehow be that easy. “I agree. You won. But it is not as easy as that. It never is with this Court. They will likely contest your win. You may have to fight it again tomorrow.”
“Well, fix it. Make them understand,” she said, narrowing her eyes. “You owe me that at least.”
“Okay.” A beat passed. “I will try. For you, I will try.”
“Good.” She gave a nod. “Goodbye, Dagen.”
“Bree,” he said, shuddering despite himself. “Please do not go like this. I need to speak with you about something. But...” He glanced around. Taveon and Rafe were now striding toward them, their eyes locked on where Dagen’s hand rested on Bree’s arms. “Not here. Somewhere private.”
“What in the name of the forest do you want to speak to me about?” She jerked her arm out of his grasp. “Don’t tell me you want me to turn on Taveon again. Because that’s not going to happen. My spying days for you are over, whether you like it or not. I could have taken my freedom, and I didn’t. So, we’re done. Okay?”
Dagen frowned, his heart clenching inside his chest. He wanted to tell Bree the truth. He wanted her to know that she was wrong about him. But how could he tell her how he felt if she wouldn’t let him get close to her?
Maybe it was for the best. Maybe he should never have gotten involved with Taveon’s champion. Dagen’s life had been difficult ever since he’d walked up to Bree’s cell door. Still, he knew he wouldn’t take it back even if he could. Those moments spent with Bree had been some of his best, even if they had been fleeting and done under the guise of something else.
He’d been stupid to hide the truth from her. He could see that now.
And it was too late to take it all back.
Bree had made her choice. She cared for Rafe and Taveon, not Dagen. So, all he could do was let her walk away, back into the arms of males who she trusted. All Dagen could do now was watch her from afar. He tried to tell himself that his heart wasn’t broken, but it certainly felt as though it was.
And now, he had to convince the Court not to force her to re-fight the champion who she’d chosen not to kill. Of all the females he’d had to fall for, why did it have to be the difficult, impossibly fiery creature that was Bree Paine?
Chapter 53
Bree
“Am I staying in my quarters tonight? Or yours?” Bree pressed her body up against Rafe’s and smiled when he shuddered underneath her touch. She would never get tired of driving him wild. It made her feel wanted and desired and beautiful, all things she’d rarely felt before now. Bree had always been second best, but no more.
Rafe took her hand in his and slowly dragged it away from his chest, wincing as if it agonized him to do so. “Of course you may stay in my quarters tonight. My bed is always open to you. Unfortunately, Dagen has called a meeting with the council, and I have been asked to attend. He says that it is important.”
Bree scowled. Lord Dagen. Always ruining everything. “But you’re not even a member of the council.”
“No.” He shook his head. “But my attendance is required. I would not go unless I thought it was important.”
“Fine.” Bree sighed. “I can wait up for you.”
“No.” He dropped his lips to her forehead and gave her a light kiss. “I could be late, and you need to get your rest so that you are ready for tomorrow’s battle. As much as I want to spend every waking moment wrapped in your arms, I won’t risk your health and your energy. Sleep. I will see you in the morning.”
Bree frowned as he strode down the corridor away from her. She knew he was right, but she wished he wasn’t. Yes, her body ached, and sleep dragged down her eyelids, but that strange electric energy still shot through her, causing her core to ache for Rafe’s touch.
She could not imagine ever feeling satiated, not with him. She could spend a million moments in his arms, and it would never be enough.
But for now, she would have to rest.
Just as she eased the door shut, a boot shot out to stop it from closing. A figure slid through the crack, clad in all black, shadows pulsing around him. She sucked in a sharp breath when he dropped back his hood to reveal his face. It was Fillan. The assassin from the ball. Her heart shook as she took several steps back, and her eyes cast around the room for any weapon she could find. She wished she wore that dagger Dagen had given her before the ball, but it was tucked away in the wardrobe.
“You look surprised to see me,” he said, shrugging his hands into his pockets.
“You think?” she barked out, placing one hand behind her back. There were no other weapons in Rafe’s room. None that she could see anyway. She would have to shift her hand into a claw. It was the only choice she had.
“Do not look so nervous. There is no cause for alarm.”
She let out a sharp laugh. “No cause for alarm? Are you serious? An assassin just stormed into my bedroom. I’m pretty sure that’s a cause for alarm.”
His lips twitched. “So I see you have been talking about me.”
“Oh, don’t look so smug,” she countered. “All I did was ask around. I thought it might be important to know who was skulking around in the Prince’s chambers during the ball.”
“Yes.” He lifted his shoulders in a shrug. “Very important information. Did you happen to tell the Prince that was what you were doing? That you were skulking around in his chambers?”
In fact, she hadn’t. But she also hadn’t felt like she should. All of that was in the past now.
“Why are you here?” She arched her eyebrows, wincing when the claws burst through the tips of her fingers. “I suppose you came to kill me now that I’m the Prince’s official champion.”
“Quite the opposite.” He flashed Bree a blinding smile. “I came to give you some friendly advice. Open yourself up more to the Prince. He has a gift that would be useful in the Battle for the Crown, one that I believe you are very much aware of. Let’s just say...it will prevent you from being killed.”
Bree’s entire body froze as she stared at Fillan. That was...not what she’d been expecting at all. The assassin had shown up in Rafe’s quarters to...help her? But he was an assassin, one who nev
er allowed a single soul to see him unless he planned to take them down.
What was he really doing here?
Bree opened her mouth to ask all of the questions rolling around in her mind, but the assassin seemingly vanished into thin air. One moment, he was standing right before her. The next? He was gone. Poof. Nothing was left but a strange lingering shadow, one that was nothing more than a wisp of smoke.
She stared, open-mouthed. If she wasn’t one-hundred percent certain that she was awake, she’d think she’d dreamt the entire exchange.
After a moment, Bree shook her head and grabbed the tunic from the chest by Rafe’s bed. He’d kept the one she liked to sleep in, a fact that made her heart ache a little more. He’d clearly been hoping she’d come back one day. Knowing he’d never truly given up hope...
Bree’s thoughts turned to Fillan’s words. He’d told her to open herself up to Taveon. Had he been at the battle? He must have been. And he’d said that by doing so, she would be difficult to kill.
No, he’d said impossible to kill.
Realization dawned in Bree’s mind. Prince Taveon, however possible, was immortal. He could not be killed, regardless of the brutality of the attack. Bree knew this first-hand. It was one of the first things she’d learned about this realm, and it was why things had become so strained between them in the first place.
Bree began to pace back and forth in Rafe’s quarters. Somehow, Fillan knew this about Taveon as well, and he was telling her to use that power to survive the fights.
Did Taveon realize she could harness that much of his power? He must not have put two and two together himself or else he would have mentioned it by now. So, how did Fillan know?
This could change everything. If Bree used Taveon’s power, and if she became impossible to kill, then there would be no need for her to kill anyone at all in these fights. She would be indestructible. She would not have to throw all her rage into keeping herself alive.
She could merely do what she did today, even with the stronger fighters.
Bree’s feet paused on the floor as she heard another knock at the door. Was it Fillan again? Or had Rafe returned? No, Rafe wouldn’t knock.
It must be Lord Dagen. Bree’s heart sunk. She didn’t think she could face him again. He had looked so...defeated standing before her in the fighting pit, almost as though he knew all his attempts to stop Prince Taveon from ascending to the throne were now coming back to bite him on the ass.
He’d lost, and he knew it. And he just wouldn’t let it go.
With a heavy sigh, Bree crossed the room and yanked the door open. “Lord Dagen, I—”
But then the words froze in her throat. Because the male standing before her was not the conniving, spying fae she’d expected. It was the champion from the fighting pit, and he held a sword in his shaking hands. The tip was pressed right up against Bree’s stomach, so tight that it almost bit through her tunic and into her skin.
Her heart tumbled inside her chest, and her blood roared in her ears. The champion had clearly healed then. He was alive and kicking and well enough to come after her now with revenge in his heart.
“Stop,” she whispered, swallowing hard. “You do not wish to do this.”
“Oh, but I do,” he said in a low growl before shoving his blade just a bit harder against her stomach. This time, it did pierce the tunic, and she winced as it sliced against her flesh. “Step back inside. Do not scream.”
Bree swallowed hard and did what he asked. Two steps back.
He closed the door behind him, and then levelled his gaze at Bree. “Why did you not kill me? You have stolen my honor from me.”
“Okay, dude. Maybe you should consider that by stealing you of your honor, it means I didn’t, you know, steal your life away instead.”
As much as Bree was starting to feel as though she kind of fit in here, the Dark Fae could still be truly alien to her.
“All you did was put a momentary pause on our battle,” he said, shoving the tip of his sword just a bit deeper into her skin. She winced against the pain but did her best to keep her expression blank. She couldn’t let him see just how much the blade hurt. “The winner of the battle is the one who survives. The one. Therefore, one of us still needs to die. And I have decided that it will be you.”
Bree’s mind began to race as she slowly eased a half a step back. Not enough that he would notice but enough to take the pressure of the sword off her chest. “I believe Lord Dagen agreed that I am the winner. So, no. Nobody needs to die here tonight.”
“Lord Dagen.” The champion let out a bitter chuckle. “We do not care what Lord Dagen thinks. All of the members of the Court are corrupt and cruel. It is time that a new order takes over this realm.”
“Oh yeah? And what order is that?” Bree figured that if she could keep the guy talking that it was more and more likely she would be able to figure a way out of this. She stuck one hand behind her back, just like she’d done with Fillan. Time to get out the trusty old claw.
“Me and my kind. Anken’s kind. The Wilde Fae.”
Bree cocked her head, wincing when her claws struggled to break through the skin again. She was so very tired. Even her eyelids struggled to remain open. After training, shifting in the fighting pit, and forcing her hand into a claw for Fillan, she could barely think straight, let alone shift now. “I thought Anken was one of the King’s bastards. He’s certainly got the wings to match.”
“Son of the King. Son of the Wilde Fae. His mother was one of us, and so is he.”
“I see.” Bree was starting to run out of things to talk about. So, the Wilde Fae were making their move. She wasn’t surprised. Taveon had said they’d had their eyes set on the Court for many years.
“Do you really see?” The champion flashed Bree a wicked smile. “We were there that day that you and Prince Taveon killed our kin. You try and act as though you are better than us, but you are just the same. The Wild Fae are beneath you. It will never change.”
Bree’s heart beat a little faster, especially when she saw the wild look in the champion’s eyes. She hadn’t realized that any other fae had been there that day. She’d thought they’d taken them all out. She’d thought they’d won. But really, their victory had only led to this moment now, when Bree stared down the blade of her impending defeat.
“You attacked us first,” she said quietly. “We were defending ourselves.”
“We attacked you because the King attacked us first many, many years ago,” he said, his voice nearly a shout. “And any chance he got!”
“I’m sorry,” she whispered. And she truly was. “But the King’s actions are not my own. They aren’t the Prince’s either.”
“No matter,” he said, voice vicious and cold. “We have been working toward our victory for weeks. Anken is a clever fae. He has been using your Lady Ethne, pretending to romance her so he can sneak inside this castle and kill you all. You may have stopped us before, but there is nowhere for you to hide now.”
Bree stared into his eyes. Was he truly saying what it seemed like he was saying?”
“It was you? You were the one behind the attacks all along?” she asked. And then her heart clenched tight as she thought of Ethne, at the look on her face when she’d spoken of her paramour. This would destroy her when she found out.
“Me and all my kin.” He narrowed his eyes and stepped closer. “And now it is time to avenge the deaths of our fallen brethren and take this realm as ours, once and for all.”
And then he shoved the blade right into Bree’s stomach. She cried out, eyes rolling into the back of her head. The pain was unbearable. She couldn’t even see anything but the darkness that now spread across her vision. She clenched her hands tight. Those claws. Those useless claws that would not come to her when it mattered most.
The world disappeared into a tunnel of pure black.
Chapter 54
Taveon
Pain shot through Taveon’s core. He cried out as he doubled over on top
of the wooden table the council had gathered around for a discussion on what Bree had done and whether or not they could bend the rules. His heart thundered in his chest, and he could barely see for the shadows creeping into his eyes.
Every cell in his body ached, like he was being stabbed in a million places at once.
Rafe jumped to his feet and grabbed Taveon’s shoulder, leaning down to stare into his face. “Taveon? What is happening?”
“Bree,” Taveon hissed through clenched teeth. That was the only explanation. The bond between them had gone quiet after the battle, but they would stay linked until there was a winner of the crown. She had likely blocked off her mind, not that he could blame her. He’d felt her churning emotions, the millions of thoughts flying through her mind. It had been overwhelming, intoxicating, and far more than he could handle for longer than a few moments at a time.
But now that link between them had been ripped open wide, and she was screaming on the other side of it.
“Bree?” Rafe’s face went pale. “She’s in my quarters.”
“Someone has found her there,” was all Taveon could manage to say. Indeed, he could not tell much more than that. Vaguely, he could imagine a blurry form, a trembling sword, and a voice full of anger and steel.
But then he managed a few more words. “Take me to her.”
Rafe slid his body underneath Taveon’s arm and dragged him out of the room. The murmur of voices followed, but Taveon did not bother to listen to a word they said. Soon, Dagen was by his side, and his body ducked underneath Taveon’s opposite shoulder. For a moment, Rafe and Dagen exchanged tense looks, but then they each gave a nod as if accepting the other’s presence.
When they reached Rafe’s quarters, the door was flung open wide. Taveon groaned as he stared down at Bree’s lifeless form. She was sprawled across the stone floor, blood pouring from a gaping wound in her chest, her perfect wavy hair spread around her head in a halo of dark brown.
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