Page 12

ALIX

I don’t get a wink of sleep after Daemon leaves my room, but it hardly matters. Before long, it’s time to meet the others downstairs and set off for the palace.

The innkeeper’s son is waiting outside with a large wagon hitched to two white horses. The back of the wagon is piled with hay and cozy blankets, and it’s surprisingly warm and comfortable as we set off through the woods.

There’s something about the wagon ride that feels nostalgic, even though I’ve never experienced anything like it before. There’s a heavy scent of rain-soaked pine and roses in the cool air, and before long, the rain turns to fluffy snowflakes. I put my tongue out to catch one and smile.

I feel eyes on me and glance up to find Jett watching me with curious dark eyes. “It’s childish, I know.”

“No, it’s not.” He shakes his head, smiling as always. “I’ve just never seen anyone enjoy snow.”

“Really?”

“Until Dyaspora, I’d never even seen snow.”

I cock my head in question. “Where are you from?”

“Solistine,” he answers with a lopsided grin. “But I suppose you don’t know what that is.”

“I do,” I say quickly. “It’s the kingdom to the east of here, right?”

“Yes! Practically, the entire place is one big desert, and what isn’t covered in sand is mountains. It’s always hot, even in the rainy season.”

“Do you miss it?”

He nods slowly and almost looks like his smile might slip for a moment, but it doesn’t. “I can’t really complain though, can I? This place is far better than Dyaspora even if it is still cold.”

My eyebrows furrow. Of all the things I have to worry about, the criminal history of Daemon and his friends isn’t exactly at the top of my list. Still, maybe I should at least know who I’m traveling with. “Why did you get sent to prison?”

“Theft,” he says, matter-of-factly.

I grimace. “I hope you at least stole something worth taking.”

For the first time, his smile falters and anger flashes behind his black eyes. “It was worth it,” he growls, sounding a bit like Daemon.

Jett’s words hang heavy in the air for a second. Then, he quickly hides his reaction, his grin returning even brighter than before. He throws an arm out to the side, catching Fox around the neck and drawing him closer to us. “But enough about me. Fox here is the only one who’s used to the cold. Make him tell you about Thermia.”

“Is that where you’re from?” I ask, turning to Fox.

Fox’s arctic blue eyes narrow on me for a moment, as if he’s trying to decide if it’s worth wasting his breath by answering. “Yes.”

I wait, but he doesn’t elaborate.

I remember what Kastian said yesterday: “Fox doesn’t talk much—don’t take it personally.” God, he really wasn’t joking, and as someone who takes everything personally and seeks regular validation, this is like some hellish immersion therapy.

Soon, we spot lights through the trees up ahead. They look magical, like we’re approaching the north pole at Christmas. At the edge of the woods, the wagon stops, just as the dirt road is transitioning into frost-covered cobblestones.

“Can you make it from here?” the driver asks, twisting around in his seat to look at us.

“Yes,” Daemon says roughly. Then, as if it’s an afterthought, he adds, “Thanks.”

I crawl across the hay and blankets, following the others out of the wagon. Gripping the railing, I hold the edge of my skirt and stretch my leg to reach the ground.

Suddenly, one of the horses lets out a snort and paws at the ground.

I jerk in surprise, and my foot slips.

“Woah.” Jett steadies me. “You alright?”

“Yes.” I flush again as I take his hand and scramble the rest of the way out of the wagon. “I’m just not a fan of horses, actually. As long as they stay over there, they’re fine, but if one gets near me…”

He furrows his brow. “Why are you afraid of horses?”

“I—”

“Are you two done chatting?” Daemon barks, interrupting us. “Or did you want to waste the rest of the night standing out here in the fucking snow?”

I turn to realize that Daemon, Kastian, and Odessa—carrying Sushi in his basket—are already thirty yards ahead, making their way toward the castle looming over the city. Only Jett, Fox, and I are still lingering by the wagon.

“Yup,” I sigh. “Coming. Sorry…”

Daemon grumbles something under his breath and turns his back on us.

“What crawled up his ass?” Jett mutters under his breath.

“What, is he not normally like that?”

He shakes his head. “Nope. Ashwater is intense, but he’s not usually an ass. Ever since going to the human realm, something has been off. I wonder?—”

Fox bumps him hard with his shoulder. “Don’t wonder,” he says under his breath. “You might strain a muscle.”

Jett seems to take Fox’s suggestion to heart and doesn’t continue. Still, my mind immediately flies to his explanation last night. “For this to work, you have to mean nothing to me.”

Now, I’m the one wondering.

Is something about my presence making him act cold to not just me but everyone? If Daemon isn’t usually so moody and the only new person here is me, am I the problem?

Unlike the Summer Palace, which is surrounded by rose gardens and what looked to be miles and miles of forest, the Winter Palace stands in the heart of a small city.

The city is alive with activity despite the late hour, and we pass dozens of Fae as we wind down the cobblestone street. Many stop to stare, especially at Daemon, but he ignores all of them.

When we reach the town center, my eyes land on a set of long marble stairs. They rise from the middle of the square—where I’d expect a fountain or statue to stand—and stretch nearly out of sight. At the top, the front door of the rose-covered palace looms over the city below. The white stone walls and spindly red-roofed towers are veiled in thorny vines, and even from this distance, I can see red roses improbably blooming despite the snow. At the base of the stairs, two red-jacketed soldiers watch us openly, their expressions unreadable.

I stop walking to gape at the palace, entirely lost in the awe of such a place being real. It’s just like I pictured it a thousand times. Goosebumps erupt on my arms and my skin begins to tingle with dark anticipation. “I don’t know if I can do this.”

Everyone stops walking as one and turns to stare at me. Kastian and Odessa look at Daemon, as if expecting him to be the one in charge of my panic attacks.

Kill me now.

“What’s wrong?” Daemon asks roughly.

Do I really have to explain this?

“Um, everything? This is all just hitting me all over again. Assuming the king doesn’t recognize me right away, how am I supposed to know what to say? What if he asks me a question I don’t know the answer to? Am I supposed to be excited to see him, or angry to be back? What if?—”

“Calm down,” Odessa says soothingly.

“Okay, the next person who tells me to calm down is getting punched in the face.”

She rolls her eyes. “Okay, how about ‘take a breath?’ It’s going to be fine.”

“How can you know that? I mean, how am I supposed to act when I meet him?”

“Thorne is a blatant narcissist,” Daemon says bluntly. “If you act like you’re glad to see him, he won’t question why. Even if you had every reason in the world to hate him and years of pent-up bitterness, he’ll expect you to be overjoyed to be in his regal presence.”

Sounds like he’s speaking from experience.

“What if he brings up something from when Nana was here before and I don’t understand.”

Again, Odessa jumps in. “Belle and the king didn’t spend a lot of time together when she was here before, so it’s not as if there can be a lot of moments you’re expected to remember, and anything you don’t know, you can blame on the sixty-year difference. Just say you forgot.”

Okay…maybe that could work, but that’s a pretty strong maybe.

“What did she do while she was here?” I ask.

“Mostly she was in her room with Shar and me, or in the library. Well, except for the dinners.”

“What dinners?” Daemon asks, whipping his head around to look at his cousin.

“King Thorne always wanted Belle to eat supper with him.”

“And you weren’t there?” I ask, trying not to let my own panic and frustration sound in my voice.

Odessa shakes her head. “No one was.”

Daemon grimaces. “So in other words, we have no idea what they talked about.”

Oh my God, I’m going to crash the fuck out.

I spin in a circle, looking around anxiously for somewhere to sit down until large hands clamp down on my shoulders, stopping my movement. I look up, and find myself staring into Daemon’s too-green eyes.

“Stop it, Peaches,” he says, not entirely unkindly. “Let’s just hope he doesn’t recognize you. If the court is still like it was before, there will be hundreds of people in the room when we go to see him. He might not have time to ask you a lot of questions.”

My eyes widen. I don’t know why he thinks having an audience of hundreds will make me less anxious.

He moves closer, and something pangs in my chest. He reaches for my chin and forces my eyes back up to his, literally holding my attention.

“I told you, I’m not going to let anything happen to you. As long as I’m breathing, no one will touch you.”

I blink, sure for a second I must have misheard. God! Who says things like that?

I suck in a deep breath and my hands fall loosely to my sides. I have no reason to take him at his word, especially when every other thing out of his mouth is slightly insulting.

But for some reason, I do.

DAEMON

Alix’s cheeks flush as she pulls her chin out of my grasp and steps back.

I blink, suddenly aware that we’ve been staring at each other for several seconds longer than is normal. I shake my head as if to clear it.

What the fuck is wrong with me?

I’ve already fucked this situation up enough as it is—first by allowing myself to be distracted by Alix. Then by letting my frustration with my brother spill into every conversation with her. And worst of all, by going to her room last night.

Once I realized that her scream wasn’t caused by some attack, I should have left. There was no reason for me to linger there with her, and even less of a reason for me to be thinking about it now…

Except that I wanted to.

I wanted her.

I still want her, which is way too fucking dangerous. I could justify to myself anything that happened before I knew who Alix was, but now? I can’t let anything happen again. Even when she looks at me like she did last night, and I know without a doubt she’d let me fuck her again in a heartbeat.

I need to ignore her.

I need to get a fucking grip.

I turn back to my friends and find them all watching us. Fox looks annoyed, Jett amused, and Kastian seems worried. I make the mistake of catching Odessa’s eye, and find her smiling smugly.

I blow out a frustrated breath and blink repeatedly, determined to stay focused on anything but Alix. I straighten my shoulders and force my expression back to neutral as we approach the palace. “Let’s go!”

“Stop!” the nearest guard barks when I’m only a few feet away.

Sneering, I keep walking, brushing past the nearer of the two guards. “Move back, kid. You see the uniforms, right? The king is expecting us.”

“Wait!” The other guard moves from his position, jumping out in front of me as if he intends to physically bar me from entering. “I’ve never seen you before. You’ll have to speak with our commander.”

I look at the guard, bemused. The idea that he could stop me is laughable; I’m twice his size. Still, I can appreciate the effort.

Technically, I’m their commander—or I will be in a matter of minutes. Thorne wasn’t at the Summer Palace to make the transfer of power clear among the guards, but he promised to reinstate all my positions the moment I brought him Isabelle. Thorne is almost entirely made of flaws, but he doesn’t tend to promise things he can’t deliver.

Still, I suppose I’d like to know who’s been leading the army in my absence, and this is as good a time as any to find out. “Fine,” I bark. “Bring us to him.”

The guard looks startled, but motions for us to follow up the stone stairs. I nudge Alix forward to walk in front behind the guard. Jett throws me a shit-eating grin and darts after her, forcing me to walk behind him. Fucking idiot.

“Who puts a castle at the top of all these stairs?” Alix pants as we climb. “You guys couldn’t use some of your magic to make escalators?”

“We’re almost there!” Odessa calls bracingly from the back of the group.

“Bullshit, we are not ,” Alix hisses, then stops and turns to Jett directly behind her. She holds both arms out, like she wants him to pick her up. “Okay, I changed my mind, the wings aren’t scary. Let’s go, fly boy. Beam me up or whatever.”

“Uh…” Jett stammers, for once at a loss for words. He freezes and glances over his shoulder at me, obviously waiting for instructions.

For the love of fucking God.

Part of me realizes that Alix is probably only gravitating toward Jett because he’s nice , the same way she’s already warming up to Odessa. Still, I find myself grinding my teeth.

I make sure Alix isn’t watching me before growling under my breath so only Jett can hear. “Don’t you fucking dare.”

“Sorry, Princess,” he says jovially. “There are no shortcuts here. Keep walking.”

Alix groans and keeps climbing, clutching a stitch in her side. I grind my teeth even harder. I don’t like watching her discomfort. I could always carry her myself, but how would I explain that to the others?

“You have to tell her not to bring up flying,” Kastian mutters under his breath.

“I don’t have to do anything,” I growl, still watching Alix out of the corner of my eye. “Just because I found her doesn’t make her my pet. You tell her. You’re the one who convinced her we’re like goddamn fish.”

I can’t see him behind me, but I can tell just from his tone that he’s shaking his head. “You’re being a fucking idiot. Just say something before she brings it up around Thorne and ruins everything.”

I know he has a point, but there’s no time to argue. I just hope I’m right—that the throne room will be crowded enough to keep Thorne from questioning Alix—Isabelle, that is—too closely.

Before I decide if I should offer to carry Alix, we finally reach the top of the steps and the guard leads us through the front doors and into an entrance hall. “Wait here, I’m going to get the commander.”

I nod and cross my arms, leaning against the wall near the door. The Winter Palace is larger than the summer one, but the architecture is mostly the same, with towering ceilings carved from golden marble, ornate pillars in every corner, and red tapestries hanging on every available wall.

We stand around for a few minutes in the entrance hall while the guard searches for their commander. I watch Alix out of the corner of my eye, noticing that she’s wringing her hands in her skirt and seems to get more anxious by the second. That guard better come back quickly, or I’m going to take matters into my own hands and burst into the throne room whether I’ve been invited or not.

I’m relieved when finally I hear footsteps descending down the huge stone steps.

“Ashwater!” the figure in the distance raises a hand in greeting.

“Oh, fuck me,” I growl under my breath. “I should have known.”

“What’s wrong?” Kas asks.

I don’t have time to answer before the commander is only a few feet away. I raise my hand unenthusiastically. “Hello, Foulo. It’s been too long.”

Foulo barks out a laugh as he stands in front of me. He nudges my shoulder with his as if we’re friends. “You could say that, but I’d say ninety years is a light sentence compared with most who enter the Dyaspora. I called a dozen men liars before breakfast when they told me you were back on Vernal soil. What happened? Did the king find it in himself to grant you mercy?”

I keep my mouth shut. There’s no answer that I can give that wouldn’t somehow come back to bite me in the ass.

Foulo is a lesser nobleman, older than me by several decades. He’s short for a Fae male, barely reaching my shoulder, and so muscular he looks a bit like a troll. His usually close-cropped blonde hair and beard are in need of a trim, and as he grows closer, I notice that his crimson military jacket seems slightly too small in the neck and shoulders while too long in the arms.

Foulo and I didn’t grow up together, but we still entered the army around the same time as I started far younger than anyone should. He’s fanatically loyal to my brother, and I’m not surprised that he replaced me as commander.

“I’m here to see the king,” I bite out. “He’s expecting us.”

“Oh really?” Foulo’s eyes dart over to my friends behind me. They linger for a fraction of a second on Kastian, then far longer on Alix.

Fuck.

My fingers curl into a fist, and I shove them in my pocket, trying to remain calm even as I’ve just realized a potentially deadly mistake.

Thorne might be oblivious, but the entire castle isn’t. There are hundreds of people who may have crossed paths with the original Isabelle and could notice that Alix is an imposter. I’ve thought at length about what to say if Thorne seems suspicious, but I’ve never thought about what to do if someone else immediately sees through us.

As if he can hear my thoughts, Foulo glances at me, then back to Alix. His eyes narrow slightly. “Lady Isabelle. I admit, I almost didn’t recognize you.”

I hold my breath.

Fuck, this is it. We’re going to get caught before we even enter the palace.

This is my fault. I should have prepared Alix better.

In a split second, I make a decision. If Foulo recognizes Alix, I’m going to kill him right here, right now. I hope it doesn’t come to that, but I’m prepared to react if it does. I’ll play nice as long as possible, pretending to be the perfect loyal soldier, but if anyone tries to hurt Alix or any of my friends, I won’t be caught off guard the way I was ninety years ago.

This time, I’ll fucking kill them all—even Thorne.

“Hello Foulo,” Alix says in a clear tone, neither too friendly nor unfamiliar. “It’s a pleasure to see you again.”

I nearly laugh with relief. I can only assume she’s been listening and picked up his name from my conversation, but she makes it sound like she’s known him for years.

Foulo puffs his chest, looking pleased. He steps forward, reaching around me to grab Alix’s hand. “Come. The king is in the throne room. I’ll walk you there.”

“Oh—” Alix blurts out as Foulo tugs her roughly forward. “I’m fine on my own.”

“Nonsense,” Foulo says, too enthusiastically. He grips her too tightly, dragging her like a limp rag doll away from me and further into the palace.

Spontaneous rage erupts inside me. Before I can stop myself, my hand shoots out, gripping the back of Foulo’s jacket. “Let her go. Now.”

ALIX

Oh my God.

Foulo chokes and splutters as Daemon pulls him backward, strangling him by the collar. His fingers slide off my arm, his hands flying to his throat.

Oh. My. God.

I gape at Daemon, half horrified and half pleased that he clearly isn’t playing around. Then again, he’s probably just thinking about the optics. Soldiers probably aren’t supposed to grab the king’s girlfriend…or whatever I’m supposed to be.

I could swear Foulo looked suspicious when Daemon introduced me, but he seems to have gotten over it quickly enough. I guess now he has other things to worry about…like breathing.

Looking a bit too smug with himself, Daemon lets go of Foulo’s jacket collar. The soldier gasps for breath, then whirls to glare reproachfully at Daemon and then me. “I thought you said the king was expecting you.” He sneers. “I was only trying to help.”

Daemon gnashes his teeth. “She can walk on her own.”

Still looking angry—and worse, suspicious—Foulo doesn’t reach for me again. Instead, he gestures for us to follow him across the high-ceilinged grand entryway and down a short hallway that ends at a set of intricately carved golden double doors. Beyond them, I hear the muffled voices of what sounds like hundreds of people, mingling with the delicate notes of live music.

Immediately, my anxiety spikes. My hands turn cold and clammy while every other part of me seems too hot. The “practical” blue dress that Odessa chose for me is clinging to my skin, and I’m pretty sure the best thing to do would be to turn around and sprint down the hall.

Daemon immediately stops and turns around as if he can sense my panic. The anger he showed Foulo is still on his face, but it dissolves into concern as he looks at me. He stays further back than he did outside—probably afraid that getting too close will make Foulo suspicious—but still, his gaze is just as intense as his bright green eyes pierce mine.

“Nothing is going to happen,” he breathes. “It’s going to be fine.”

I suck in a deep breath trying to calm down, but my gaze finds Foulo’s suspicious dark eyes. I can’t think of anything to say that won’t give us away…which really feels like a sign this was a bad idea. If I can’t even pretend to be Nana in front of a random soldier, how am I going to convince King Thorne— The King Thorne, who I wrote fanfic about in middle school and secretly kind of liked in the terrible movie adaptations.

“Is something wrong, Lady Isabelle?” Foulo says, his tone syrupy with false concern.

“She’s fine,” Daemon snaps. “Just nervous.”

Foulo nods to me. “Of course. Do you need a moment? Or perhaps to freshen up?”

I shake my head robotically. “No. I’m fine.”

I am so not fine, but if I “take a moment to freshen up,” I’m pretty sure I’m never coming back. And since my alternate option is wandering alone around a magical kingdom with giant wolves and who knows what else…yeah, I’m kind of stuck here.

Foulo turns his back on us to push the double doors open wide. To my surprise, Daemon reaches out and grips my fingers for the briefest half a second before he turns his attention back to the doors. It’s like he’s saying “Thank you” or maybe “You’ll be fine.”

My heartbeat speeds up a little, and the tips of my fingers tingle with heat. Against all reason, I feel a little better. Braver.

Finally, Foulo pushes open the golden double doors. Beyond, I see a long throne room with towering cathedral ceilings and gilded arches over every window. Dozens of lords and ladies, dukes and duchesses litter both sides of the room, like something out of a renaissance painting.

When my gaze finally lands on King Thorne, I nearly choke.

The king lounges on his throne, watching us as we approach. He’s absurdly handsome, with flowing dark blond hair and light eyes, which he turns on me the moment we enter the room. He looks exactly like the character I’ve always pictured. No wonder Daemon realized something was up—that cover artist must be some kind of psychic.

Daemon takes a long step toward the door, followed closely by Kastian and the others, but Foulo throws out an arm, blocking them from entering the throne room. “I’m sure the king has better things to do than entertain criminals and servants.”

“You two go,” Kastian mutters to Daemon. “We’ll all stay here. We don’t mind waiting outside.”

Daemon nods, then once again tries to walk into the room, only for Foulo to stop him a second time. Foulo’s eyes narrow, any pretense that they’re friends has vanished and now he just looks bitter and angry. “Only Lady Isabelle can enter.”

I step back. Um, is he kidding? I’m not going in there alone. No fucking way!

Clearly, Daemon and I are on the same page for once. He growls low, throwing Foulo’s arm off with enough force that he stumbles. “That’s not fucking happening. I’m going with her.”

“No!” Foulo snaps. “I’m the commander of the guard now, and I say you’re not welcome.”

Clearly trying and failing to keep his anger under control, Daemon turns his back on Foulo and stands in the still open doorway. He looks up over the heads of the court and raises his voice to a near shout. “Thorne! I don’t know how you expect me to bring you your woman if I can’t even enter the palace. Call off your dog or I’ll take Isabelle back where I found her.”

For a long second, the entire crowd falls silent. Foulo splutters, and even I draw back, nearly choking once more on my own surprise.

Across the enormous hall, the king’s eyes lock on Daemon, then slide to me. I hold my breath.

Then, the king smiles and raises a lazy hand to beckon us both inside.

Daemon and I walk side by side down the long aisle in the center of the throne room. Hundreds of eyes track us, and I feel my brain start to shut down from nervousness.

Daemon stops about ten feet from the base of the raised dais where the king sits on his throne. I halt beside him and look up. For a moment, I forget everything—why I’m here, the danger pressing in from all sides, even the warnings Daemon and the others have given me about the kind of man Thorne truly is.

Because right now, it’s an out-of-body experience.

I’m staring at the exact character I’ve read about for years, brought to life in vivid, impossible detail. The face I’ve imagined a thousand times in the pages of A Kingdom of Thorns is here, flesh and blood, watching me.

“Ashwater,” Thorne drawls in a tone that sounds like a greeting and a judgment all at once.

“Your Highness,” Daemon replies, a hint of sarcasm in his tone.

He makes a funny jerking movement with his head, like he knows he should bow, but is physically rebelling against it. Perhaps his arrogance is too much at odds with that level of royal respect.

I guess the king thinks so too because he laughs coldly. “‘Your Highness,’ is it? Wasn’t it just yesterday that you were telling me to go fuck myself?”

There’s a sharp intake of shocked breath from around the room, but Daemon doesn’t seem rattled. “When you save a man from the Dyaspora, you earn yourself eternal loyalty.”

Thorne smiles.

I can’t help but remember what Daemon said outside. That King Thorne is so self-centered he will believe anyone is overjoyed to see him, regardless of what reason they might have not to be. Am I witnessing that in action, or is Daemon honestly grateful to the king?

I don’t have long to think about it as at that moment, the king turns his attention to me. He steps off the dais and walks toward me, arms slightly outstretched as if he expects me to run to him, but I freeze.

Should I hug him, or am I supposed to bow?

Should I say something?

If he realizes I’m not my Nana, what will he do? Will he kill me right here? Would Daemon let him?

I try to smile but can’t as Thorne reaches me, standing just inches away. His eyes skim over me, sharp and assessing, before settling on the necklace resting against my collarbone. A flicker of something—recognition? Satisfaction?—flares in his gaze. Before I can react, his arm snakes around my waist, pulling me flush against him. My breath catches in shock, but I don’t have time to process it before his lips crash onto mine.

The force of it steals the air from my lungs. His mouth is hot, demanding, his tongue gliding over my parted lips like he has every right to be here.

A jolt of something electric shoots through me—whether from shock or something more terrifying, I don’t know.

Oh my God, I’m kissing a fairytale.

As King Thorne holds me to him, a tingling sensation that has nothing to do with the kiss spreads through my body, sending shivers down my spine. I can almost feel Daemon’s piercing gaze burning into the back of my head.

Finally, King Thorne lets me go.

“Belle,” he breathes, his lilting accent drawing out the word like a caress. “Forgive me. I never thought I’d see you again.”

I stumble back, dazed. My lips part, but I’m at a loss for what to say. I can’t even begin to guess what Nana might say in this situation. My mind goes blank, and before I know what I’m saying, I steal a melodramatic line from Rose, the protagonist . “I’ve counted every moon since we were last together and thought the sun might never rise.”

Ugh, kill me.

I feel my cheeks heat. I can’t believe I said that out loud. But then again, maybe it was a good thing because King Thorne beams at me. “Perhaps it would be better for us to speak in private. I want to know all that has happened to you since you left, and why you’ve agreed to return now.”

“Y-yes,” I stammer. “I’d like that.”

Thorne turns away from me and smiles at all the courtiers watching us. “Lady Isabelle has returned to us. Though the rose moon is fast approaching, I have no doubt that now that she is here, our plight will soon end.”

Cheers erupt, and I turn to look at them as well and am startled to see them looking at me with excitement…perhaps hope?

I glance behind me, my gaze searching out Daemon’s for reassurance, but can’t catch his eye. His jaw is clenched tight, and his hands are curled into fists at his sides.

What the fuck is he so upset about? His plan worked; he should be happy.

“Your Majesty, if I might ask a question…” Foulo’s smug voice rings out over the crowd of watching courtiers.

King Thorne glances imperiously at the man and nods for him to continue.

Foulo clears his throat. “Not only the uh, former Baron Ashwater, but several other unknown soldiers arrived with Lady Isabelle. As the commander of your army, I think?—”

Thorne raises an eyebrow. “Thank you for bringing this to all of our attention, Foulo.”

Foulo’s broad chest puffs out in pride. “Of course, Your Majesty, I?—”

King Thorne cuts him off, continuing as if there was no interruption. “This is an ideal time to make the entire court aware that in recognition of finding Lady Isabelle and returning her to me, I have promised to return all lands and titles to Commander Ashwater.”

“W-what?” Foulo splutters. “But…Your Majesty…”

King Thorne just waits as Foulo launches into complaints.

I glance over at Daemon, wondering how he views all of this. Is he enjoying the king putting Foulo in his place? I would think any normal person would be. He’s getting public recognition, plus all his stuff back after years in prison. Except, his expression doesn’t reflect that. He looks pissed. No, furious.

“What’s wrong?” I whisper, under the cover of Foulo’s loud protests.

Daemon doesn’t seem to hear me.

“Foulo, enough,” King Thorne says loudly. “Why don’t you make yourself useful and escort Lady Isabelle to her chambers before dinner.”

Foulo scowls. For a moment, he doesn’t move. Then, clearly realizing he has no choice but to obey, he stalks toward me.

Oh God. Here we go again.

I’m not sure if he is over eager to follow orders or just controlling, but this time, I expect the large fingers reaching for my upper arm and dodge out of the way. Instead, Foulo’s fingers close around the ends of my long curly hair.

“Ow!” I blurt out.

In a split second, several things happen at once.

Beside me, the king goes stiff. His hand flies out, but not as if he’s going to grab for me. The hand in my hair disappears, and before I can process what’s happening, Foulo is flying across the room and landing spread-eagled in the middle of the carpeted aisle.

I gape at the king. Did he do that? Is it magic, or ? —

My thoughts stutter to a halt as I realize it’s far from over. Daemon launches himself after Foulo, his outstretched fingers closing around Foulo’s throat.

“Keep your filthy fucking hands off her,” Daemon roars, his voice echoing all around the now silent room.

Foulo turns beet-red, but it’s unclear if that’s from embarrassment or because Daemon is cutting off his windpipe. He jerks backward, freeing himself from Daemon’s hold, and sneers. “Or what, Ashwater?”

“Or I’ll make sure you never touch anything again. Enjoy jerking your tiny cock while you can, because the next time you touch her will be the last time you have fingers.”

Holy shit.

He sounds unhinged, and…hot? I don’t like when guys have too much alpha male energy, and I definitely don’t go for roided-out psychopaths. So why am I suddenly warm all over?

“Stop!” Thorne raises his voice in a deafening command.

Instantly, the room goes silent. Daemon freezes, and even Foulo stops struggling and goes still and quiet. Even I find myself rooted to the spot, and I’m not sure I could open my mouth to speak even if I wanted to.

After a long second, Daemon is the first to move. He turns slowly, looking over his shoulder at Thorne. For the briefest second, I think I see him pale. His eyes dart all around, as if he’s only just now realized where he is and what words just came out of his mouth. “Thorne?—”

The king strides forward. His face is twisted in anger, but as he approaches Daemon and Foulo on the floor, the anger melts and is replaced with…amusement? He stops and gestures for Daemon to stand. “I didn’t know you cared so much about protecting what’s mine. Should I take that as a sign that against all odds, the Dyaspora has rehabilitated you?”

Daemon straightens his posture and smirks. His expression is arrogantly pleased, yet the smile reaches every part of his face except his eyes. “As I was saying before, when you free a man from the Dyaspora, you earn yourself eternal loyalty.”

Thorne grins back, looking satisfied. “That settles it, then.”

“Settles what?” Daemon asks sharply.

“You’ll guard Isabelle for me until the rose moon.” He shoots a mutinous look at Foulo on the floor. “I can’t have anything happening to her before then.”

“What happens at the rose moon?” I ask, but no one seems to hear me.

“But—” Daemon chokes, looking horrified. “I can’t guard her.”

“Why not?” The corner of the king’s mouth tips up. “I thought you wanted to return to the court.”

“What about during the day,” Daemon demands, a bit more rudely than I would expect anyone to speak to a king.

Thorne seems to take it in stride. “She’ll have to adopt our habits eventually. Sleeping when the sun is high is no hardship if one remains in the dark.”

“But you just said I would have all my positions reinstated.” He sounds a little desperate. “The commander cannot spend all his time guarding one woman. Who will run the army?”

“I cannot think of a more important role for the commander of my army than making sure my rose is kept safe until the moon.”

Daemon looks equal parts angry and horrified. “But?—”

“Be quiet!” Thorne rumbles, using the same commanding tone that silenced the room only minutes ago. “Do not test me, Ashwater. You’ve gotten everything you’ve ever wanted just as I promised. You should be kissing the fucking ground in gratitude. Do not give me a reason to change my mind.”

Daemon grits his teeth, but finally steps back. He nods once. “Fine.”

“ Yes, Your Majesty ,” King Thorne corrects, his tone mocking.

The muscles in Daemon’s neck strain. His hands curl into fists, and he looks as if he’s physically holding himself back from attacking the king like he just attacked Foulo. I suck in a breath.

Seeming to hear my gasp, Daemon glances over at me. Our eyes connect and I see a hundred thoughts pass behind his eyes. Then, just like that, he relaxes. His face turns blank and he tips his head toward Thorne in something resembling a bow. “Yes, Your Majesty.”

Thorne claps his hands and smiles. “Good.”

Movement and sound seem to return to the room, and the king’s anger vanishes just as fast as it came. Still, my ears are ringing. I feel shocked—exhausted, even. I don’t know what I just witnessed, but the tension in the room and between Daemon and the king feels so thick it’s hard to breathe.

“Take Isabelle back to her room to prepare for dinner. I want to see her every evening until the rose moon,” Thorne says to Daemon, speaking about me as if I’m not present.

“What happens at the moon?” I ask again, louder.

They both turn to look at me. Thorne’s eyes narrow, somewhere between confusion and anger. “Our wedding, of course.”

Holy shit.

A stone drops into my stomach and for a moment I think I’m going to be sick. Or maybe even pass out again. I’ve never fainted in my life until this week, but I swear I can’t get enough air into my lungs. I put a hand to my forehead.

At the same moment, both Daemon and the king step forward, hands outstretched as if to catch me if I fall.

My heart thunders in my chest, and I glance between them. Daemon’s eyes are wide with panic, while the king’s narrow with something like annoyance.

For the briefest moment, I feel trapped. Caught in the center of two forces I’m not sure I really understand.

Then I suck in a breath and steady myself.

No one has to catch me, I did it myself…but there’s a little voice in the back of my mind that tells me this won’t be the last time I feel stuck in the middle.