Page 47

47

“Secure your own happiness first.

Miserable fae are difficult to love.”

A Seelie Guide To Happiness

N o conversation dampens our footfalls as Nia and I make our way back to the cottage. Instead of cutting through town, we traverse the path nearest The Divide. While it’s going to kill me to see the bridge, the thought of running into anyone else we know and being forced to hold a conversation makes me want to curl into a ball and sob.

The guards I saw when Maddox brought me across are no longer by the lights, but standing at the entrance of the bridge, swords drawn and expressions blank. I only recognize one, but even he doesn’t spare us a glance.

Nia comes to a halt. “Nolan?” Her skirts flutter as she rushes over to where her love waits with the other guards. When he sees her, he says something to the rest of them and meets Nia in the middle of the dirt path.

“What are you doing here?” she asks.

An excellent question considering he’s meant to be Ronan’s personal guard.

Nolan darts a glance at me before responding. “We’ve been ordered to guard the bridge. No one is to cross without the king’s permission.”

Meaning even if Ever changes his mind about us, he won’t be able to come to me. “Crossing the bridge isn’t illegal.”

“Yet.”

“What does that mean?”

He gives me his shoulder, sidling closer to Nia. “I shouldn’t even be speaking to you.”

Nia reaches for his hand, squeezing his fingers. “Nolan, please.”

He stares for far too long at their connection before drawing away, putting distance between all of us, a small gap that feels as wide as The Divide.

Nia’s face falls at the slight, her eyes glittering with unshed tears as she watches Nolan grip the sword at his hip. “If the queen gets her way,” he says, “there will no longer be a bridge.”

“She can’t do that.”

“I assure you, she can.” He leaves us without another word, the sun glinting off his armor as he takes his place next to the other guards.

To remove the bridge would be damning all those innocent people to death. Maybe they could travel to one of the other villages along the canyon that have a similar arrangement with the Unseelie. Or maybe all the Seelie will follow suit and they’ll be cut off entirely.

This isn’t fair.

It isn’t right .

The Unseelie have done nothing wrong, and the queen wants to go back on their treaty. No doubt, she’ll convince everyone that this decision is solely to ensure the safety of those in Rosehill.

There is no hope of stopping this, unless…

“I need to speak to the king.” Perhaps he will be willing to show some compassion to Ever’s people.

Nia swipes at the tears running down her cheeks. “What makes you think he’ll grant you an audience?”

After what I did to his son, he probably won’t.

His son . That’s it! “Ronan.”

“He won’t help you.”

Probably not. He doesn’t seem like the forgiving type. Perhaps I can appeal to his softer side—assuming he even has one.

Nia swipes at her eyes with her fist. “Maybe if we make him believe that you want to speak with the king for some other reason?”

What other reason would I have to speak to the king? I am no one. He owes me nothing. We only met the one time, so he might not even remember me.

Her eyes narrow. “I can think of one, but you’re not going to like it.”

At this stage, I’ll do anything.

“If you were to apologize to Ronan for slighting him, convince him you’re interested in marrying?—”

“Absolutely not.” The thought of even pretending to enjoy Ronan’s company—his touch, his kiss —makes it feel like there are spiders crawling over my skin.

“Do you want to save Everett or not?”

Of course I want to save him, but to pretend to court Ronan to make that happen? I’m not even sure I could be convincing.

Unfortunately, I cannot think of any alternative. “Where do you think he’ll be?”

“Either on his way to the Black Rose or already there.”

* * *

The Black Rose is as busy as I’ve ever seen it, with people everywhere smiling and laughing, not a care in the world, oblivious to the dire situation unfolding for their neighbors. My hands want to tighten into fists, but I force them to remain relaxed at my sides as I push through the revelry in search of a prince who may very well hold the fate of an entire village in his careless hands.

I find Ronan near the back door with Ivee hanging on his every word as he regales her with some fanciful story. Two guards I don’t recognize stand a short distance away, scanning the crowd for trouble through somber eyes.

As if she can hear my pounding heart, Ivee turns her head slowly, her gaze widening when she sees us. A sneer pulls at her painted lips, but Ronan doesn’t so much as spare us a glance.

This is going to be much harder than I imagined.

Nia steps in front of me, her eyes narrowing as she trades glowers with Ivee. “Good evening, Ivee.” She lets out a little gasp. “Oh, dear.”

“What?” Ivee rushes.

“It’s nothing, really.”

“Tell me.”

“You just have a little something right between your teeth.”

An indignant screech bursts from Ivee before she reins it in with tight lips. She slides off her stool and twirls toward the privy.

One problem solved. Now to deal with the next.

Ronan collects his pint from the table, drinking deeply while staring into the crowd, a blatant slight that doesn’t even sting. If I had my way, I’d never see the man again.

Still, I force my legs forward, erasing the gap between us. “Prince Ronan? I was wondering if I could have a word?”

He rolls his eyes like a child. That’s what he is. A spoiled little boy trapped inside a man’s body. “Go on then.”

What I have to say—what I must do—requires a little more privacy. “Could we go outside?”

With another eye roll, he carries his pint to the back door leading to the gardens but doesn’t bother holding it open for me after he steps through.

Unlike the first night he brought me out here, the sun is high, waiting to boil me alive. Ronan stops next to a bush laden with white hydrangea blooms and takes another drink, his foot tapping out his impatience.

The door opens once more, and the guards step through. Thankfully, they remain far enough away that they might not overhear.

Here goes nothing.

“I wanted to say that I am dreadfully sorry for what happened between us and for treating you so poorly.” That sounded sincere, didn’t it?

He sips from his glass, his gaze roving over me. Gone is the man who cared—or at least pretended to, leaving in his wake a cold, calculating prince. “Let me get this straight: Your Unseelie used you, then tossed you aside, and now you’re crawling back to me?”

Annoyance prickles my spine. Ever didn’t use me. He may have sent me away, but it was for my own safety. Because he loved me. If I hold onto that knowledge, I just might find a way to survive this. “That isn’t true.”

He yanks Trevor’s shirt from my shoulder, exposing the scars from Ever’s teeth. “Do you want to try again?”

With my face burning, I drag my sleeve back into place. What’s the point in continuing this farce when he knows that I have no intention of rekindling our relationship? “I need to speak to your father regarding a very urgent matter,” I say, remaining calm despite the panic gripping my chest. Please let this work. Please.

Ronan’s nail taps against the glass, condensation sliding down the smooth surface, dripping onto the toes of his boots. The silence between us rings through my ears. Deafening in its emptiness.

His lips twist into a sneer. “You’re trying to save the bridge, aren’t you?”

Might as well come clean and pray this man has a heart somewhere in that arrogant chest. “Without access to the well, the Unseelie will die.”

“So?”

“So, they are people too.”

“They’re not people. They’re monsters. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have somewhere else to be.” His shoulder bumps mine on his way past. I should follow him, beg him to reconsider.

All I can do is stand here, fighting for my next breath.

They’re all going to die.

I failed them.

This is my fault.

The door opens once more, but I can’t even bring myself to turn and see who it is.

A hand slides over my shoulder. “What did he say?” Nia asks.

“He won’t help me.” No one will. If I’m going to fix this, I’ll need to find a way to do it myself.

“What now?”

There’s only one thing left to do. “I’m going to the castle anyway.”

* * *

The public carriage drops me right at the castle gates, where the guards refuse me entry. Their response comes as no surprise. Why would they let a random stranger through? Still, I don’t know what else to do so I stand at the gilded gates, staring at the stone castle in the distance, pleading with the fates for an audience.

The sun sinks in the sky, the shadows growing larger, more formidable, yet another barrier to overcome. Then I see a gilded carriage tearing up the lane, drawn by four horses.

The king.

Finally, something today is going right.

Two guards rush to open the gates, while a third keeps track of me. I’ve had plenty of time to go over what I want to say, how best to appeal to the king. I only have one shot and cannot fail.

The carriage rolls to a stop where I stand, but my hope vanishes the moment the curtain swings aside and I find the queen sitting inside.

“Kerris Dawn. What a surprise. I was under the impression that my son was no longer courting you.”

And from the smile in the queen’s cool tone, the thought pleases her. Yet another reason to be relieved my dealings with that cad are through. “I’m not here to see Ronan. I would like to see the king.”

The queen tugs on her lace gloves, adjusting the hem at her wrist. “My husband is a very busy man. Is there something that I might be able to help you with?”

How can I ask for help when she’s the one who wants the bridge closed?

What other choice do I have?

“I heard a rumor about the bridge being closed and am concerned about the wellbeing of the Unseelie across The Divide.”

“And what of the wellbeing of those in Rosehill? Or do our lives matter less than theirs?”

“Of course, not?—”

“Then you must know that, as Queen of Willowhaven, it is my duty, first and foremost, to protect my people. That bridge has brought nothing but trouble since the day it was built.”

“Please. I’m begging you. If access is cut off, you’ll be damning them all.”

Her smile returns. “Good day, Miss Dawn.” She calls to the driver. The whip cracks, and the horses lurch forward, the carriage gliding away on gilded wheels.

I leave without even a spark of hope in my veins.

The bridge has been closed and there’s nothing I can do to stop it.