Page 52

52

“Treachery comes in many forms.”

Author Unknown

W ith a wave of Ronan’s hand, armed guards pour from the alleys, swarming like locusts toward the man I love. Ever does not fight when they take hold of him, nor when they drag him toward the dais.

The rest of the Unseelie remain frozen, their hands clasping their daggers and empty jugs at their backs.

The wedding guests leap to their feet; women and men dressed in finery twist and turn as if trying to find a way out. With the exits all closed off by guards, there is no escape for anyone.

The king looks as if he’s seen a ghost, his blanched face devoid of all color.

The longer I stare, the more similarities I see.

Their cheekbones… The shape of their jaws…

Ever’s father is the bloody King of Willowhaven.

That would make Ever Ronan’s half-brother—his older half-brother. If I’m right, then Ronan isn’t the heir to the kingdom.

Ever is.

Ever can’t stay in Rosehill. He needs to get as far from this place as he can. “Run!” I scream.

Our eyes connect, and he must recognize the panic pulsing through me because his heels dig into the cobblestones. The guards holding him falter, trying and failing to drag him closer.

In a blink, Ever is free, but instead of doing as I commanded, he sprints toward the dais.

To save me .

I wave my hands even as I race toward him. “No! Go back to The Divide!”

Ronan lunges only to catch my veil. The comb holding it in place flies out of my hair as I leap to the ground. The rest of the Unseelie unsheathe their weapons, forming a circle to defend themselves against the Seelie guards. A circle that doesn’t include the man I love.

I don’t care how fearsome they are, they’re wearing no armor, and their daggers are a lot shorter than the guards’ swords. They’re not prepared for this battle.

What am I even thinking? This isn’t a battle.

It’s a bloomin’ ambush.

Screams fill the air as people hunker behind their chairs and run up the street, away from the melee. Footsteps pound an uneven beat behind me, growing closer and closer. Ronan grabs my hair, yanking me back against his chest. His golden blade meets my throat, and I freeze under its sting. I manage to catch a glimpse of the ornate hilt between his clenched fist. There, in between the gemstones, is the unmistakable crimson stain of blood.

Ronan does not hunt, nor does he eat meat.

Why would his dagger be bloody?

Did he cut himself?

Or did he cut someone else?

Ever’s gaze locks with mine, and he goes utterly still. Rage burns in his narrowed eyes, his muscles coiling like a cobra prepared to strike. He roars for the rest of the Unseelie to drop their weapons, and although they don’t look happy about it, they lower their daggers.

The guards pass all of them, circling Ever instead. They catch his hands and chain them behind his back.

I buck my hips against Ronan’s hold, but he only presses the blade deeper into my windpipe. “You’re a coward,” I wheeze out. “Using me to get to him.”

“I am merely a practical man. When I see a problem, I find a solution.”

“What do you want?” Clearly, it’s not me. What is Ronan’s end goal?

“Just wait and see,” he breathes against my cheek.

The guards drag Ever to the dais. The queen pushes to her feet, her face a mask of ethereal calm while the king gasps for breath, still clinging to the throne. He unfastens the clasp on his mantle, letting the heavy fur fall to the ground as he fumbles with the buttons on his collar.

Nolan emerges from the crowd, his eyes as cold as death as his voice booms through the square. “Everett Gathin, you are under arrest for the murder of Trevor Dillon.”

Ronan finally loosens his hold on me and cleans my blood from his blade against his thigh.

Don’t they see? “Ever didn’t kill anyone.” I whirl to where the king still hasn’t said a bloody word. “Please, Your Highness, you must stop this. You know who he is.”

The king’s jaw drops, beads of sweat dripping down his brow. “I have never met that man before in my life.”

“ That man is your firstborn, heir to the throne of Willowhaven.”

Those still within earshot gasp while the Unseelie trade confused glances.

“Lies,” the queen seethes, a red flush climbing her jaw.

Even if I’m wrong, at least I’ve given them pause.

Ever’s gaze falls to my neck, and he whips toward Ronan, leveling the prince with a menacing glower. “You are a dead man.”

Chuckling, Ronan holds out his hands to where the Unseelie have been cowed and the rest of the crowd is still hiding. “Have you looked around? You’re in no position to make idle threats.”

Ever’s sharp teeth flash. “You will see how idle they are soon enough.”

The king swipes a handkerchief across his brow and takes a step forward, still studying Ever. His eyes grow wider with every step. Now that they’re standing so close, their kinship is painfully obvious. Even Ronan shares some features with his older brother. I’m a fool for not seeing it sooner. For not asking more questions when Ever showed me his mother’s dresses.

The king stands up straighter, his shoulders rigid as he twists back to Ronan. “Son, whatever you’ve planned, it stops now. Your duty is to honor this kingdom, not to disgrace it.”

“You wish to speak of disgrace?” Ronan throws his head back with a barking laugh. “That’s fucking rich.”

“You will heed my warning. I am your father and your king.”

“You are a disappointment, failing time and again to keep your people safe from the monsters that lurk across The Divide. The wolves are back, Father. But you’ve been too busy hiding in your castle to give a shit.” Ronan taps his dagger against his thigh, adjusting his grip on the hilt. “I’ve never understood why you insisted on keeping the bridge open when such danger lurks just on the other side. But the moment I met him ,” he swings his blade toward Ever, “I knew . You kept it open because you were fucking one of them.”

The queen looks too calm. Too poised.

The king’s eyes bulge as he turns to stare at his wife. “You knew he was going to do this?”

Her chin lifts, and although she doesn’t respond, the answer lives in the angry set of her jaw and the rage snapping in her eyes.

A whoop echoes through the square and Maddox charges through the crowd, a blade swinging over his head. The rest of the Unseelie join in the charge, fighting their way through to the dais. Nolan stumbles, and Ever leaps free. The chains on his wrist jangle when he tries to grab me, but Ronan gets to me first.

If only I had some sort of weapon to incapacitate him, some way to break out of his grasp, but I’m as helpless as I was before, only this time, my eyes are open to the truth.

Maddox yanks Ever back, but Ever fights him every step of the way until Gryffin takes him by the other arm and drags him toward the rest of the Unseelie still holding off the guards.

Tears spill down my cheeks as they haul Everett away to safety.

Among the mayhem, a lone guard walks onto the dais and dumps my bloodied dress onto the worn planks. Not just any guard; the one with the mustache that I saw outside of Trevor’s cottage on the evening he died.

The cold slap of iron clamps around my wrists. “Kerris Dawn of Gravale, you are under arrest for the murder of Trevor Dillon.”

It doesn’t matter what happens to me as long as Ever is safe.

Even from this far away, I can see him struggling to get back to me as more guards flood the streets, heading not for Ever, but for me. He lets out an ear-shattering roar that turns my blood to ice.

Ever manages to get free, but it’s too late.

The guards have set the bridge on fire.

The Unseelie abandon the fight, their mounts, and their wagons, scrambling to make it back to their side before the bridge falls into the canyon, vanishing into the mist.

I’ll never know if he made it or if he fell into the abyss.

The king crumples to the ground, clawing at his throat, his face the shade of a ripe blueberry. Foam bubbles from his white lips as his eyes turn hazy.

The queen kneels beside her husband, taking his hands away from his throat. I expect tears or words of sadness, but she does not cry. She leans close and whispers, “You unfaithful wretch. Of course I knew. You built her a fucking bridge.” She lets his hand drop to the dais. On his wrist he bears two crescent scars.

Unseelie mating bonds.

The queen removes his crown and stands. “King Bandon Reve is dead. Long live King Ronan.”

Ronan inclines his head so the queen can replace his crown with the king’s.

The handful of people still in the square sob and wail as they slowly bow for their new king, none the wiser to the treachery that has taken place.

Ronan smiles at me, his too-white teeth gleaming in the waning sun. “I always get what I want.”