Page 29
Story: A Kingdom Ruthless and Radiant (Age of Fae Romantasy #2)
Chapter 29
End of the Road
R aewyn
A loud clanging noise had awakened me—or at least I thought I was awake.
Perhaps it was a dream. Why else would Crown Prince Stellon Randalin be locked in the cell next to mine?
“It’s me, sweet,” he said.
Thrusting an arm through the bars separating us, he sought my hand. I crawled over the rough stones and gave it to him. He reached for my other hand as well.
“Firebug,” he said, gripping me tightly. “Are you alright?”
“I’m fine,” I said, though it was clear neither of us was fine. I had only a few hours left to live, and he’d just been imprisoned for some reason.
“What are you doing in here?” I asked.
“I was trying to rescue you,” he said.
His eyes filled with tears. “Obviously I failed. I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry for all of it. I should never have trusted my father—or Pharis.”
“I don’t blame you,” I said. “I was just as fooled by him as you were. Pharis is very good at what he does.”
“Careful, Wildcat, or I’ll get a big head.”
Pharis’ low voice emerged from the dark corridor before a torch flared to life, bringing his beautiful, traitorous face into view.
If I hadn’t been so parched and had any saliva to do it with, I would have spit at him.
“What a sweet little scene,” he said in an acid tone. “Star-crossed lovers together once more. Who says true love doesn’t exist?”
“Why are you still here?” Stellon barked. “You got what you wanted—Father’s favor. I never realized how jealous you were, little brother.”
“I was never jealous of your title,” Pharis said.
His eyes strayed to me before returning to Stellon.
“As far as Father’s favor… it’s only smart to court it, since his reign will apparently continue unabated for eternity.”
He sounded harsh, angry, almost like a stranger.
“Are you doing this because I refused to join your doomed coup attempt?” Stellon asked.
Pharis’ eyes slid to the side where two men in armor stood guarding Stellon’s cell.
“I have no idea what coup attempt you’re talking about. I’m doing this because it’s the only thing left to do.”
He stepped closer to the bars, lowering his voice.
“Clearly you don’t have what it takes to rule a kingdom if you were not even willing to try to stop the execution and save the woman you supposedly love. You didn’t even fight when Father stood there before you, unarmed,” he taunted.
“I was willing to die for her!” Stellon said.
“What good would that do her?” Pharis demanded. “Or me or Mareth? Anyway, it’s about to become a moot point. Tomorrow, she’ll no longer be a distraction for you.”
“You’re a monster,” Stellon roared.
“No… I’m a planner,” Pharis said.
He offered a humorless smile. “Don’t worry. Once she’s gone, you’ll be back to your position as the golden child and back in line for what you apparently want most—safety and predictability, plus the throne of Avrandar. Unless…”
He leaned against the bars now, tempting Stellon to reach through them and strangle him. I wished he’d leaned against my cell so I could do it.
Pharis went on in that self-assured tone with a smug look on his face. “If the ‘spell’ doesn’t lift when she’s executed, then you might be deemed unfit to rule, and I’ll be the new heir and future king.”
“You scheming bastard,” Stellon hissed. “I trusted you.”
“And I trusted you. Everything comes to an end eventually.”
Stellon was clearly fighting back tears of anger and regret. His voice sounded choked.
“If you wanted my birthright, Pharis, all you had to do was say so. I’d have gladly handed it over to save her.”
“Too little too late, big brother.”
Pharis stretched, yawning in a show of boredom.
“I’ll be going upstairs to my feather bed now,” he said. “Big day tomorrow. Lots of excitement.”
Getting to my feet, I went to the bars of my cell, glaring at Pharis.
“I can’t believe I ever thought I—” I cut myself off.
It was pointless to mention the word “love” in the presence of Pharis Randalin. He didn’t know the meaning of it.
He turned those gleaming blue-green eyes on me and smiled. He actually smiled .
“Poor little Wyn, always putting your faith in the wrong people. Such a shame. Your father, the Earthwife, Stellon, who is powerless to save you and too cowardly to do it anyway…”
“You,” I snapped and reached through the bars, trying to slap him.
Pharis laughed and jerked back, just out of my reach. My hand swished through the air in front of his cocky face.
“There’s that feisty spirit I love so much. I believe your bollocks are bigger than my brother’s.”
Taking a step backward, he said, “See you two ‘lovebirds’ tomorrow… in the arena.”
“Go to hell,” I yelled.
“You first, Wildcat,” Pharis said with a wink before he turned and casually strolled away.
I turned back to Stellon. At least I had the opportunity to spend my last night on Earth with him—the prince who actually loved me.
How foolish I’d been to think for even a second that Pharis might be the better match for me.
That he might have cared for me.
That he might have returned the love I hadn’t been able to stop myself from feeling for him.
Hopefully my sisters and father weren’t out there among all those faces filling the royal arena under the bright morning sun.
I prayed my family would never be found, never even hear about this. I wanted them to imagine me traveling the world and seeing all those places and sights Pharis and I had talked about visiting.
The sight before me now, apart from the massive high-walled arena and the buzzing crowd, was the royal family of Avrandar, seated on a raised platform where they’d have the best possible view of the coming entertainment.
All of them wore High Court finery and crowns, holding goblets of wine, though not one of them looked jubilant.
Stellon was bound to his chair by a scarlet rope around his chest and wore an expression of absolute misery. How horrible for him, to be forced to watch this.
He’d been taken out of the dungeon a couple hours before me this morning, but he’d be a prisoner the rest of his life to his diabolical father’s will.
King Pontus was looking at him, obviously disgusted at his firstborn son for actually being sad over my impending death.
Mareth was crying. I was sad I’d never gotten the chance to know her. She seemed like a good soul.
And Pharis. Pharis sat there in his golden chair dressed in a gold-trimmed black tunic, looking calm and rested as if he’d gotten a great night’s sleep.
Devastatingly handsome as always, he scanned the arena, taking in the turnout of Fae and humans alike. I briefly wondered if the King had sold tickets to pad his already enormous fortune.
As I glared up at Pharis, sending unspoken curses, he turned his head to look down at me. And smirked.
He really was a monster.
After all the time we’d spent together, all the experiences we’d shared during our travels, he felt nothing.
Blinking back hot tears, I turned my face away. I wouldn’t give one second more of my remaining few minutes of life to him.
Standing beside me on the gallows, hands bound behind her back like mine were, Sorcha alternately muttered and raved, indignant that her deal with the King was ending like this.
She’d finally encountered someone less trustworthy and more powerful than herself.
I prayed that when she died beside me, that would be the end of it and that her “sisters” wouldn’t take up the quest for revenge and go after my family.
“This is all your fault,” she spat. “If you’d kept your end of the bargain, we’d both be home in Waterdale right now, safe and sound.”
“And Stellon would be dead,” I said, “which would be a tragedy.”
Thankfully, we had never bonded. Hopefully that meant he would someday be able to heal from this pain and love again.
At least he had that chance, and he literally had eternity to get over me. I hoped he would.
“This is your fault,” I said to Sorcha. “You’re getting what you deserve… though I made the first mistake by coming to you for help.”
When I thought about it though, my goal in striking a deal with the Earthwife had been to save my family. I had done that, hadn’t I?
They were healthy and safe, far from here with a new home and plenty of money to buy whatever they might need for the rest of their lives.
My life had been changed as well.
Though it was ending prematurely, I had seen and done and felt things I’d never even dreamed would be possible for me.
Perhaps a short, extraordinary life was preferable to a long, lonely, and unfulfilled one.
If none of this had ever happened, and I’d never met Stellon—or Pharis—I would never have experienced love.
There was something I had to know before I died, and only Sorcha could tell me.
“Was there ever a love spell?” I asked.
She turned to me. “Do you really want to know?”
“Yes. I do.”
An evil grin spread across her face. “Then the answer will go to the grave with me. See you in the Land Without Stars, my dear.”
The executioner joined the men who guarded us on the hangman’s platform. He came to each of us, placing a noose around Sorcha’s neck first and then around mine without a word.
Then he dropped a black hood over my head, and the world went dark.
Nausea filled my belly, and my legs went weak, threatening to start the hanging early by collapsing beneath me. My breaths started coming too fast, in a hurry to make their final appearance before my lungs stopped working for good.
This was it, the end of the road that had begun the minute I’d met Stellon in the Rough Market, where he’d saved me, and I’d saved him right back.
Closing my eyes, I pictured his sweet, smiling face and made one last wish—that I would not be going to the Land Without Stars but to Alfheim, that magical place the Fae believed in, where life went on forever in peace and beauty and perfect love.
Perhaps someday, when eternity came to an end for him, I’d see Stellon there.