by Mila Young
“Guards,” I bellow. “Apprehend Jasion and lock him up in the dungeons.”
The mage’s face falls as two guards from the side of the room carry out my order. Fury twists Jasion’s face, hatred pouring from him, but I can’t stand to look at him another moment. I curse him under my breath and vow that once this is over, he will be tossed to the Bloodcursed for all I care. No interrogation needed—his fate is sealed in Shadow Court.
I glance over to Guendolyn, who’s chewing on her lower lip, fear building behind her eyes. She meets my gaze, and my first instinct is to pull her into my arms, to take her out of here and get her to tell me everything. But I don’t move, because that’s not going to work. Not when hundreds of fae are invested in this scandal. The only way to douse the flames is with a public display of the truth.
My mind is foggy as I contemplate Guendolyn’s intention to take the throne as queen. I won’t deny, at the back of my mind, I ask myself if part of her motive is to make me suffer after I pushed her away. To take away the one thing I picked over her…
I shake my head. She wouldn’t do that.
My thoughts linger to when we were last together on the balcony and she healed my wings. To her torn expression when I turned her down.
Why didn’t she tell me about her ancestry before?
A loud clap draws my attention to my mother. “Perform your test up here for all to see.” She’s furious and won’t even look at me. She fears losing our home if the test proves truthful, not to mention the wolves within the crowd ready to pounce.
The mage carries the cage up the steps and stands in the middle of the stage, looking toward Mother and the council. I move to take a seat alongside her, while my brothers come to stand on either side of us.
Guendolyn climbs the stairs, holding her head high. For her sake, I pray the test proves she is who she claims to be. Not being with her is one thing, but to have her executed will end me. The ache in my gut returns, the muscles in my shoulder blades pinching with stress. It’s snowballing, and each breath comes out ragged.
I sit next to Mother, my whole body tense as shit, and I wait. Guendolyn looks so nervous. It’s difficult to watch her this way when I want to protect her from everyone—except she’s asking to be at the forefront of everything.
She hid this secret from me. It didn’t have to end up this way.
“Ramond, you may commence,” Deimos instructs.
The mage nods once and sets the cage on the floor near his feet. “I don’t carry a blade on me,” he says. “I need a few droplets of blood from…” He glances over to Guendolyn, clearly not knowing her name.
“G-Guendolyn,” she says softly, her gaze traveling to us before returning to the mage. There are gasps through the room, even my mother’s breath catches at learning who stands before her. The cursed girl from our realm.
The mage doesn’t seem to bat an eye and pulls out a small wooden bowl the size of my palm from the pocket of his robe-skirt.
I stand and draw a blade from my waist, then approach her. She gingerly offers me her hand palm side up, the mage gripping the bowl close to catch the blood.
She’s soft to the touch, and I feel her trembling. “It’s going to hurt just for a bit,” I whisper.
“It’s alright,” she reassures me. Like it’s me who needs comfort when her life is at risk. I don’t even know if I’ll be able to help her if she’s accused of treason and sentenced to death. And I struggle to breathe at the thought.
“Are you sure this is what you want to do?” I hesitate a bit, speaking softly so the others don’t hear.
She blinks up at me with the same heartache in her eyes she carried on the balcony. “There’s nothing else I want more than to be with you.”
The mage next to us clears his throat, but he remains in place with his bowl. My breath catches, and all the emotions I’ve shoved deep inside me burst to the surface. The ones that insist I walk away and just follow my heart. To claim the girl in front of me, to be happy for once in my fucking miserable life.
That’s when I realize she doesn’t want the throne for herself, but to ensure I take it with her.
My throat thickens, and I don’t move. Not when I see everything she’s going through for me.
“Do it,” she whispers. “Please. Just cut me.”
Silence permeates the room, everyone seeming to wait with bated breath.
So much rides on this, so many people’s lives and futures.
“I hope you’re right.” I make a quick swipe over the meaty part of her palm, the blade biting into her flesh. Blood bubbles quickly along the cut. She tilts her hand to the side as red droplets roll down her palm and trickle into the bowl.
When a small puddle is collected, the mage says, “That’s enough.”
Guendolyn pulls back, and I hand her the handkerchief from my pocket. I tuck my blade away and return to my seat. My gut tightens, and with each passing moment, unease curls inside me. I feel like I’m about to watch the world’s biggest disaster, and I’m doing nothing to prevent it.
I glance over to Luther, who gives me a reassuring look like we are doing the right thing. How can he be so sure?
The mage retrieves a small black vial from his pocket, uncorks it, and starts pouring what looks like someone else’s blood in with Guendolyn’s. “This is King Tibout’s blood,” he announces.
Not a single word can be heard from the packed room. The silence is strangling me.
Once he has the vial closed and back in his pocket, he crouches by the cage.
The fairy inside sits against the back wall, silent, watching him with huge eyes. Opening the small latch at the side, he quickly slides the bowl into the cage before retracting his hand. A light blue energy stretches from his fingers to the bowl, vanishing as quickly as it came.
He lifts the cage and turns toward us. “This fairy has been bitten by a Bloodcursed, and with my magic, when it drinks the blood, it will react in one of two ways. It will either sit calmly, which will tell us the bloods are from the same bloodline. Or it will go ballistic, crashing into the walls to escape, as it’ll be momentarily poisoned by the mixed blood.”
Guendolyn stands nearby, pressing the handkerchief to her cut, and like the rest, her eyes are glued to the cage.
The fairy wanders over to the bowl, where it drops to its knees. In the silence of the room, the fairy lapping the blood is all that’s heard.
Moments later, it jerks its head up.
Guendolyn hugs herself, and I can’t move. I’m frozen in my seat, waiting, desperate to see this succeed. Please, let this work.
The sudden explosion of the fairy’s wings shooting outward on either side of her, green as moss and beating frantically, causes my heart to race and a terrible ache to sweep through my gut.
The fairy starts spinning mid-air inside the cage, faster and faster. She isn’t bouncing about crazily though, but remains in one spot, whirling around.
“What does that mean?” I demand.
The mage licks his dry lips and glances over to me. “I’ve never seen this before.”
A gasp falls from Guendolyn’s lips, and the whole room bursts into sound. It isn’t long before a few start demanding her death.
Chapter 19
Guendolyn
My heart beats frantically, and I try to curl in on myself, wanting to vanish right here and now. My gaze darts between the spinning fairy in the cage and the perplexed mage as the chants for my death escalate.
These fae don't even know me, yet they want me dead? How in the world are they meant to embrace me as their queen when they’re tossing me aside so hastily?
Power flares down my arms. It's getting to the point where I don't care about the throne; I don’t care about anything but trying to be with my princes. Maybe the answer lies in me taking all three with me to Earth and make a go of things there. But that’d be running away from my problems, wouldn’t it?
I approach Ramond and whisper, “Can we try again, please?”
He looks at me with sympathy and nods. Ramond, thankfully, is nothing like Jasion.
Luther and Deimos step forward, while I hold Ahren's gaze. They support me, but he must have doubts that I'm not telling the truth—otherwise, why does he hesitate?
I try to think if my mother said anything else about how to do this, anything we may have missed the first time around. I can’t stop trembling, fearful of what will come next.
Luther comes up to me and leans down to whisper in my ear. “Let Deimos and I take you from here safely.”
I lift my head and look into his eyes. “You believe me, don't you?”
“Yes, but it's not about us, little wolf. Right now you're in danger. Please,” he whispers, his tone shaken.
The sound of something clanging draws my attention to Ramond, who’s taking the small bowl out of the fairy's cage. The moment he does, the poor fairy collapses to the ground. It crawls over the side of the cage toward me and grabs the metal bars, staring at me with the most heartfelt eyes. No longer does it look wild and ready to tear into anyone who gets too close. It’s calmer, and all I feel is pity for the little thing.
“Guendolyn,” Luther persists in my ear.
I face him. “Please, let me try one more time. Give me that.”
There's no hesitation. He nods, and I have to resist the urge to hug him. I need to be strong and appear in control, even though inside I’m filled with turmoil.
Luther addresses the royals and council. “Now that our initial trial is complete, we will proceed with the actual test.”
Jasion groans loudly. “She is a traitor, and you are openly allowing her to betray you.” Why the hell isn’t he in the dungeon like Ahren ordered? Several others in the crowd start echoing his words, which was exactly his intention.
“Luther,” the queen warns.
The prince addresses everyone in the room. “I don't know about the rest of you, but when someone claims to be a lost heir, it is our duty to give them every chance to prove their stake. If King Tibout were alive, he'd agree, and everyone here knows it.” He turns to a guard.
“She’s bewitched the prince. You all can see she failed the test. We don’t need more proof. She killed the king and now she’s trying to take the throne.”
“Gag and tie up Jasion now!” he roars.
A guard snatches Jasion and forces him to a seat, tying him up and gagging him.
“My Queen, this has gone on long enough. Please, I implore we push ahead with the ceremonies,” a male intones from behind me. It's one of the councilmen, an old, stuffy fae. The others around him nod their heads.
Voices from all around start to rise as everyone chats amongst themselves. Sweat drips down my back, and I swallow hard. The councilmen break into an argument, and the realization of how horrible this is going sinks through me.
I look back to the fairy and reach over to stroke its wing inside the cage. It doesn't look crazed any longer but more like a fairy who's lost, and I'm left wondering if feeding it my blood has had this effect.
"Let it out," I say to Ramond, but he doesn't hear me and is staring wide eyed at something at the entrance to the hall.
An explosion of panicked voices booms from the crowd as attendees scramble away from their seats and spread outward in the room.
Emerging through the doorway is my mother. My mouth drops open. She’s wearing a pale blue gown glinting with diamonds, her hair pinned off her face with a glittery crown, lips rosy and bright. She's beautiful. Stunned is an understatement on how I feel. What is she doing here?
Behind her, half a dozen guards in the dark uniform of the Ash Court march in tight formation.
“Mother!” I call out, gaining everyone’s stare. The way Ahren looks at me in shock resembles his brothers’ expressions as they tried to comprehend who exactly I am, reminding me that Ahren hasn’t heard this part of my story yet.
In fact, everyone glares at me that way, disbelief and confusion about how I could be both the daughter of a Seelie and an Unseelie running rampant.
She smiles at me, but before she can speak, someone else steps forward.
“Son,” Ahren’s father emerges from the cowering masses. “I can’t sit back any longer and watch this embarrassment. You are in over your head. It’s clear that witch has invited the enemy into our court, and yet you still haven’t summoned her arrest?! Has she bespelled you, or is her cunt truly made of gold!”
Deimos throws himself off the stage to lunge at his father, roaring like a beast, face contorted with fury. Luther and Ahren on his heels, seizing him by the arms to hold him back. But by the raging anger twisting their expressions, at first I can’t tell if they are stopping Deimos so they can get to their father first and beat the hell out of him.
“Fuck you!” Luther spits, gaining gasping shock from the guests.
This is turning into a spectacle, and their fucking asshole father has to make a show, doesn’t he? I steel myself and glare at him, my hands curling into fists. I’m furious at his words, but at the same time panicked at the mounting tension in the room.
“Apprehend the queen!” Ahren’s mom bellows, rising from her throne, drawing away from the explosive thickness in the air.
“No!” I cry out, lunging for the steps to reach my mother’s side.
“Is that the welcome I get after I had my mage end the curse on your kingdom, under duress mind you? The creatures are no longer lured to your kingdom. They’re still around eradicating them completely is a lot more complicated, but the mage with his dying breath was able to stop their bites from transforming anyone into a Bloodcursed.” My mother’s eyebrow arches, and the whole room gasps. These creatures have plagued these lands for a long time from what the princes had told me, so this is amazing news. “I did it for my daughter, for your kingdom to embrace her, and I risked everything for this to work.”
Someone claps in the crowd, then more follow, standing up because she has eradicated a huge problem.
But when a sudden spark booms in the room from our right, everyone flinches with fright. I smell electricity in the air. Magic, to be more precise.
The Shadow Court guards draw their swords in unison and I flinch from the abrupt, ringing sound. They appear stiff, their eyes pale, glazed over like zombies… like they are being controlled.
“Ahren, son, you must be able to see through their ploy to take your throne from you. King Tibout is dead so he can’t dispute this. But even I can see it clearly what is happening here.”
“This has nothing to do with you, Father,” Ahren growls.
One of the guards slashes the cords binding Jasion’s wrists and gag, and he’s up on his feet, joining the princes’ father. They sneer, looking at me. “Change of plans,” Jasion declares as more guards dart into the ballroom from the hallway, blocking off everyone’s exit. And that’s when it hits me that this is all Jasion’s doing and why the guards don’t apprehend him. He had this orchestrated from the beginning.
“Guards, stand down,” Ahren commands, Deimos and Luther moving to his side and drawing their blades. Their mother, along with the councilmen, recoil to the rear of the stage. But no one listens… They are under Jasion’s control now.
Fear lifts the hairs on my arms. This is going to turn into a bloodbath.
“It didn’t have to be this way,” his father says. “But maybe this is what this kingdom needs. A clean slate and a new beginning. A new king in charge.”
“Father! This has nothing to do with you,” Ahren snarls.
But with a single whistle from Jasion, the guards charge, attacking anyone in their way—Shadow and Ash Court alike—as they carve their way toward us.
The screams are ear-shattering, and dread shakes me at the core. Instinct and panic take over, and I race down the aisle to my mother as she runs to me. Fear tightens her face even as she hurls her arm outward, a blast of power colliding into a guard coming for her, tossing him into the hoard of soldiers. She gasps and slows down suddenly. I take her a
rm.
“I’m not as strong as I once was,” she says amid the chaos.
“We need to get you out of here,” I shout, grasping my mother’s hand, drawing her toward the stage while my three princes and Michae leap into battle alongside the Ash Court guards.
Screams and chaos spread like wildfire. The clang of metal resonates, while fear strangles my heart.
And there it is. As soon as something good is about to happen, the universe says, Fuck you!
The air thickens with hatred and death so fast it leaves my head spinning.
“Your Majesty,” I address the princes’ mother. “Stay close. I’m going to get you both out of here.”
I’m shaking furiously as I call to the power inside me. I stare at the palm with shards of ruby inside. Please work.
“I’m Queen Sarey,” my mother says to the queen, who looks torn, her eyes glinting with tears. “This isn’t the best circumstance for us to meet, but please know I have always held the highest respect for you.”
“Oh? Did you respect me when you were sleeping with my husband?” she spits while more people run onto the stage, crying.
Shit, this isn’t the time for this.
“After Guendolyn, we stopped seeing each other. He truly loved you,” my mother explains, stretching her hands out to the queen. “I wish I would have come to you earlier and explained it all.”
But I don’t have time for this.
Just as I realize I’ve lost track of where my princes are in the fight, Luther is tossed across the floor, blood streaking his cheek. Jasion throws a ball of energy at the guards standing in his way, while the princes’ father pushes a woman out of his path so can he reach the stage faster.
My pulse is a raging storm. Ramond is at the edge of the stage, looking like he’s attempting a spell on the battle, except mages need the proper ingredients to empower their magic. Whatever he does will be weak, but at least he’s trying. Near him sits the fairy in the cage. And a better idea comes to me.