Chapter 23
Chapter
Twenty-Three
The fairy King, who I now knew to be Hayden's father, was a tough opponent. Not only did he fight with fierceness, but his presence was that of a man who’d survived countless battles.
White hair framed his face, falling in two thick braids on either side, while the rest cascaded over his shoulders.
A long white beard reached his chest, and his sky-blue eyes looked as menacing as they were familiar.
They were, unmistakably, the same eyes that stared back at me from the man I thought I knew.
"Should we intervene?" I asked, my heart racing.
Niall stepped beside Torin, hand gripping the hilt of his sword.
"This is a battle between father and son, and we must tread carefully. Blood is not always a bond," the fairy man said. "Sometimes it's a curse."
Hayden and his father fought, their movements fluid and graceful despite the violence of their actions.
Beneath the tattoos and fierce warrior exterior, was Hayden still the same person? My bodyguard, who’d saved me numerous times? The man who had stood by my side for many years? Did the darkness within him run deeper than I'd ever imagined?
I scanned the throne room. Crumbling stones and shattered glass littered the ground, as did the unmoving bodies. Screams and clashing steel filled the hall.
The fairy King's sword caught my eye, its hilt shimmering silver, matching Torin's weapon. The sword seemed similar in design—a curved tip of the blade, longer and thicker than Torin's, though it lacked any engraving.
If Torin had the fairy Queen’s sword, engraved by my mother’s witch powers, then how did Willa get possession of the sword? From the little I knew about Willa, she didn’t strike me as a person who would steal the weapon, especially that of Hayden’s dead mother.
A cold chill ran down my spine as I kept staring at the King’s powerful fairy sword. It appeared better crafted and sturdier than Hayden's human-realm sword, which seemed almost dull in comparison.
“Perhaps the fairy King will win,” I murmured.
The fairy King wielded his weapon with swift, precise strikes, each movement honed to perfection. It was clear he had won many battles with this very sword.
The fairy Queen’s and the King's weapons were symbols of their power and heritage, and they must have held significance and meaning to the royals, just as the werewolf crowns did.
As my initial shock and confusion waned, my mind raced, struggling to process the sight of the rebellion unfolding before my eyes. My heart pounded in my chest as I tried to make sense of the chaos and the implications of what was happening.
If Hayden won, he would only gain more power—a thought that both terrified and repulsed me. But if his father emerged victorious, what then? The man who had imprisoned my mother could do the unthinkable. He was the fairy man who wanted me dead.
Torin’s side brushed mine. “We walked in on a rebellion,” he said without disconnecting his gaze from the two royal men. “I can’t tell who will win.”
“I don’t think it matters,” I said.
Niall shuffled and fidgeted next to me, his body tense and straight. “I’ll challenge the winner. So be sure to get ready to flee.”
But my legs refused to move. My heart raced as my gaze focused on Hayden. I sensed a strange feeling in my body, and I touched the marks of my bond. The mate bond with Hayden ignited, anchoring me to the spot. My legs felt heavy, as if roots had sprouted from my feet.
My instincts screamed at me to protect him, to shield him from harm, but I knew I couldn't let those instincts take control. They were the physical manifestations of the forced connection between us.
I gave my head a shake, but I was unable to dispel the surge of concern for my mate’s well-being. I fought the urge to jump into the fight to help Hayden. I pushed it deep down, and I leaned into Torin’s side.
Torin's eyes burned into me, but I couldn't force myself to meet his stare.
Hayden expertly parried the other warrior's strike, his movements swift and sure. Their swords clashed with deafening force, sparks flying as metal met metal. The air crackled with tension, thick with the scent of blood and sweat.
Hayden sneered at his father, his eyes cold and unforgiving.
"I didn't raise you right, son," the King spat, his voice dripping with contempt.
"No, you did, Father," Hayden said, his voice dark and bitter. "You raised me in a way that showed me how wrong you were to kill your Queen for the light witch. You'll die today for Mom. She's in a better place, but you won't be joining her there."
The King laughed, his eyes alight with malice.
I took a deep breath, filling my lungs with much-needed air. Was Hayden’s father in love with my mother? No, he must have been so unhealthily obsessed with her that he ended up killing his own Queen.
"You're just as wicked as me, son. I know what you've been doing over the years, and yet I couldn't prevent this from happening."
Hayden wore the platinum crown he'd received from my father, while the fairy King wore his own—an intricate design of twisted thorns sitting on a platinum circular frame with engraved vines and leaves.
Two Kings clashed in front of me, and a wave of despair washed over me as I imagined the disastrous outcome of either one winning.
As their blades continued to clash, the old King's gaze suddenly flicked to me.
His expression shifted from surprise to awe, and he finally settled on anger.
His eyes narrowed, and I knew he recognized me as the daughter of the woman who he thought had betrayed him so long ago.
All Willa must have wanted was her freedom and her fated mate.
Their blades moved fluidly as if they were deadly continuations of their limbs, every blow heavy with the burden of their broken bond. I couldn’t even imagine fighting Dad with the mission to kill him.
The old King's strength seemed to wane, his movements growing slower and heavier beneath the weight of his sword.
But despite his weakened state, his experience shone through.
In one swift, calculated motion, he managed to cut Hayden's blade in half, the sound of metal slicing through metal echoing in my ears.
Hayden's resentment for his father's abuse flickered across his face, taking the form of a twisted smile that sent chills down my spine.
He was faster than the King, and as his father swung his sword, aiming at his son's head, Hayden spun in a graceful, fluid circle, moving behind his father with ease.
In an instant, he dropped the hilt of the broken sword, pulled two silver daggers from the sides of his leather belt, and thrust them into his father's chest. The thin white shirt on the King’s torso quickly soaked with blood.
Hayden pulled the knives out of his father’s flesh and stared at the blood dripping to the ground.
"By the Gods," I breathed, clasping my hands over my mouth.
Witnessing my mate murder his own father snapped me out of my haze. It horrified me to watch history unfold as a son turned against his father in such a brutal manner.
The old King crumpled to his knees, his breaths coming in ragged gasps, pain etched across his face.
Hayden moved in front of him, his blue eyes void of any remorse or pity for the man who had been responsible for so much suffering.
"Any last words, Father?" Hayden sneered.
I couldn’t stop blinking rapidly, my pulse accelerating. Hayden could have sent his father to the dungeons, sparing his life.
The King looked up at his son, blood seeping from his mouth as he nodded in defeat.
With great effort, he spoke in a strained voice. "You’ll become the new wicked King, my son. Like father, like son."
I gulped for air that my lungs desperately needed.
His body slumped to the ground, lifeless, and a shiver ran down my spine. Silence enveloped the hall as everyone watched the grim scene unfold.
“I’ll never be like you,” Hayden said.
All I could think was about how much Hayden resembled his father.
Hayden casually tossed the werewolf crown aside and bent over to pick up the silver and thorn crown that had tumbled to the ground near his father's body. As he placed it on his head, an eerie hush fell over the room.
The warriors, who had been fighting moments ago, now dropped to one knee in submission, pledging their loyalty to the new, wicked King.
I glanced around, noticing that only our small group remained standing. My heart pounded in my chest as I tried to ignore the fear that settled over me.
I had made a monumental mistake. I should have left the throne room earlier to search for Willa's prison, but the mate bond held me captive.
Robert cursed, and Torin sighed heavily, likely realizing our mistake as well.
The air in the hall suffocated me, like a heavy fog that threatened to choke me. I was trapped, cornered, with nowhere to run as the tension in the room continued to rise. The scent of blood and sweat, a nauseating mixture, made my stomach roil.
Hayden smirked in my direction, desire flashing in his eyes.
The sight of him made my skin crawl. I could feel the pull of our connection, but I fought against it, unwilling to give in to his darkness.
Sheathing his daggers to the belt around his waist, he straightened and stared at me, his eyes willing me to walk up to him.
Abruptly, Torin took a step toward Hayden, and my heart dropped as I remembered the frightening images of my hallucinations in the poisonous garden. I saw Hayden stabbing Torin in his chest the way Hayden had killed his father.
I shot my hand to Torin’s wrist, and he halted, turning to face me.
“Torin,” was all I said.
His expression softened.
I didn’t want Torin to fight Hayden. After watching him ruthlessly kill the King, I didn’t want to discover how much stronger and faster Hayden could be in his fairy form.
Torin pointed to the werewolf crown Hayden had tossed carelessly onto the floor as if proving a point.
“I’m walking over there,” Torin said in a low voice.
Nodding, I released him.
Torin reached for the discarded object. His fingers hovered just above the crown, but I couldn't let him touch it.
"Torin, don't," I warned. "The werewolf King's crown was tainted."
"But it was your father's," he said, his gaze locked on the symbol of werewolf power in the kingdom.
I shook my head, my chest tightening. "I want nothing to do with it since it sat on the wicked King's head."
"Then we'll make me a different one." Torin straightened and chuckled.
Perhaps taunting Hayden wasn’t a good idea.
My gaze locked with sky-blue eyes. His stormy gaze lowered to my mate markings. I was baring the symbols of my connection to Hayden. Unless he died, I would be forever tied to him, a metaphysical link binding our fates together.
I shuddered at the thought, remembering how I couldn't bring myself to kill my aunt despite her countless wrongdoings. How could I even think about killing my former bodyguard turned dark and chosen mate?
As if sensing my thoughts, Hayden took a step forward, his chilling eyes boring into mine.
Immediately, Seraphina, Niall, Torin, and Robert formed a protective circle around me. Their bodies stood tense, ready for battle, but I couldn't help but feel vulnerable under Hayden's unwavering gaze.
He crooked an eyebrow. "I see you've found yourself some friends."