Chapter 1 #3
Because I knew that if I gave him that vengeance, I might lose him to that promise he had made—that agreement between him and the unseelie high king that would force him to wed the male’s daughter upon fulfilling his vengeance against the Summer Court.
I clutched my dagger. I had to do it. He deserved to know what had happened to his brother.
Vaeleryn didn’t love Kaeleron. I told myself that on repeat as I couldn’t tear my gaze from that dreadful castle looming before me. She didn’t. She had been happy that he had found me, someone he cared about. She viewed him as a friend.
I wasn’t convinced that would spare them both if I delivered Kaeleron’s vengeance.
The high king would force his daughter to wed Kaeleron.
Neither would get a say in things.
I most certainly wouldn’t.
The weight of Sylvan’s gaze never strayed from me as I battled my doubts, as I fought my fears, the seelie steward a patient and silent sentinel beside me.
Gods, I hoped he thought I was just struggling with processing what he had told me and that my fear stemmed from being back in a fae court after what I had potentially been through in another one.
I stared at the castle, seeing Falkyr instead, seeing the black mountains and the twilight-kissed sky, wrestling to crush my doubts.
I tightened my fingers around the dagger Kaeleron had carefully crafted for me, my focus on the ring that encircled my middle finger, matching the one he wore on his.
A gift so delicate and beautiful, so intricate that it still stole my breath whenever I looked at it.
A token of his feelings and a testament to his skill.
He had forged me too.
He had shaped me into something stronger during our time together, had seen me in danger of breaking because of Lucas and had done everything he could to hold me together, to mould me into someone who could see the strength he could in me.
A strength that flowed in my veins, that roused my heart, stirring my courage. That heart blazed with a need to protect those I loved.
I was strong enough to face whatever this court threw at me and survive.
And when I was done, I would face Elduin, the unseelie high king, and I would stake my claim on Kaeleron, denying him and his daughter.
Because Kaeleron was mine.
An unseelie had loved and chosen a seelie before, despite how it ended for them, and I believed the love I shared with Kaeleron was forged strong enough to withstand anything.
Even if he despised the seelie so vehemently.
I shook off those whispered words that curled around my heart like vines to spring vicious thorns that pierced it.
I shook off how dark he had been in that moment all those months ago when he had told me he would wipe the seelie from the lands of Lucia if he had the power, and more recently when he had again made his hatred of them blindingly clear to me.
He had been given his moniker of the Wrathful because of that hatred and how it had driven him for centuries to tear down this court.
I honestly couldn’t blame him for it.
I hated Lucas and all his wolf pack for taking my parents from me.
I could understand how it fuelled Kaeleron, how it tainted his heart even now the one who had been responsible for the murder of his parents was dead.
I was sure it would take me decades to shake off his stain on my heart, this oily darkness that rose and flowed in my veins whenever I thought about my bastard mate.
I flexed my fingers around my dagger, shutting down that line of thought and focusing instead on the love I knew Kaeleron felt for me, sure it was strong enough to stand up against centuries of hatred towards the seelie without crumbling.
The sooner I did this, the sooner I would be back with him.
I turned to Sylvan.
“Let’s get on with this then.”
He studied me a second longer, and I didn’t hide the anger that blazed in my veins, or my fear.
I hid nothing as I stared right back at him, close to snarling as that oily darkness unfurled, tendrils of night spreading outwards to darken my heart and shadow my mind.
I let him see it and believe it was born of hatred towards the Shadow Court, of my time there and how I had been treated, and a need to make them pay.
Better he saw this side of me too, the wolf that prowled beneath my pretty human skin, so he wouldn’t dare try to treat me as if I was inferior and weak, unfit to be a queen.
I was a queen.
A queen of darkness.
A queen of shadow.
A queen of wrath.
Sylvan took hold of my arm, apparently pleased with what he saw as he smiled that viper’s smile at me, but this time his eyes were sharper, filled with a look that left me feeling he preferred this side of me for some reason. He liked that I had bite and wasn’t afraid to use my fangs.
The light swirled around me, glittering gold and too bright for my eyes, and as the teleport tugged at my skin, chilling my blood, his voice drifted around me, filled with challenge that spilled dread down my spine.
“Your first act as heir presumptive will be your presentation to the highborn of the Summer Court.”