Page 29 of Kingdom of Briars and Roses (Cursed Fae Courts #1)

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Rydian

T he faint click of the door echoed in my ears as I stood there, hating myself. I told myself it was better this way. That she was safer in the castle, surrounded by servants and my own spies.

Except she wasn’t.

I’d sent her back to a cage whose walls she didn’t even realize were tightening around her, a trap she’d never see coming until it was too late. She might not be the shallow princess I’d once assumed, but she was still na?ve about the greed and violence Duron was capable of. I clenched my fists, my nails digging into my palms as Duron’s voice whispered through my memory.

“As the Chosen One, her power isn’t hers to keep,” he’d said, his tone casual, as if draining her of her magic was no more significant than harvesting wheat. “Whatever the Fates gave her, it belongs to Autumn now, and I’ll make sure it serves its purpose.”

My stomach churned.

Aurelia’s magic was meant for more than some cruel transaction in Duron’s endless power games. And yet, I’d sent her straight back to the monster because to do otherwise would have violated the blood oath I’d given him.

With a roar, I grabbed a chair and shoved it hard enough to send it skittering across the room, the sharp scrape of wood on stone harsh in the oppressive quiet.

What the Hel was I doing?

My blood boiled at the thought of her staying in the castle. Not just for her proximity to Duron. I couldn’t stop thinking about her with Callan. His to touch. Somewhere along the way, my duty had taken second place to my desire.

I would have her eventually.

And it would cost me everything in the process.

But she hadn’t made it clear if she wanted me. Only that she wanted the truth. And that was the only thing I couldn’t give.

The blood oath bound me like chains. It coiled around my tongue, my thoughts, my will—tightening every time I even thought about warning her directly. The penalty for breaking it would be my life, and worse, my mother’s freedom.

But there were ways around it. There had to be.

Daegel entered the room, his quiet steps barely audible on the stone floor. His gaze landed on the chair I’d shoved. “She’s gone, then?”

I didn’t answer, turning toward the desk instead, my fingers already reaching for a pen and slip of paper.

When I started for the stairs, his voice came again, disapproval already lacing the question. “Where are you going?”

“To write a message,” I said, the words clipped.

“Message for who?”

I turned back, knowing full well the recklessness of my plan. “Home.”

Daegel frowned. “I thought you said it was too risky?—”

“We can’t afford to let her remain here,” I snapped, my tone harsher than I’d intended.

Daegel’s frown deepened. “You don’t think there’s a chance she’d listen to reason? We could ask her to leave. Simply explain?—”

“No.” The word lashed out of me like a whip. “She won’t come willingly.”

I couldn’t let myself imagine that possibility. Aurelia, hearing the truth, looking at me with betrayal in her eyes for the lies I’d already told her. For pushing her to come back here, all while knowing what danger waited for her in this place.

Daegel shifted his weight. “You’re assuming the worst.”

“Because I know Duron.” And I knew her. “He won’t give her a choice, so why the Hel should we?”

Daegel said nothing, his gaze heavy with something unspoken.

I ignored it, pushing past him toward the door. I needed air. I could send the message from somewhere else. It was a risk, contacting the others. Duron could have spies watching. He could intercept it, realize what I’d built against him.

But I couldn’t let her be another pawn in Duron’s game.

My family would protect her. They’d keep her out of his reach. Maybe she’d hate me for it, but at least she’d be alive. Her survival was all that mattered.

“Stop,” Daegel said, his voice heavy with resignation.

I halted, my hand on the knob.

“Write the letter,” Daegel said quietly. “I’ll make sure it gets sent safely.”

I cast him a sideways look, considering. He was a better option. He’d have fewer spies watching his movements than I surely did. And he could travel faster. “If you double cross me?—”

“Oh, stuff it up your ass, Ryd.” I blinked at Daegel’s rare show of temper. “I’d never betray you. You know that.”

“Even when you think I’m a fucking idiot?” I countered .

He grinned, his easy nature returning in an instant. “Even then.”

I sighed, my shoulders sagging. “Okay.” I stalked to the table and leaned over it as I scrawled the message. Then I folded it and handed it to my friend.

“Make sure this gets to my mother,” I said.

His expression was unreadable as he took it from me. “If they take her, you’ll never see her again.”

“I know.”

He stared at me, and I forced myself not to flinch at the truth he must’ve seen in my eyes. “Slade was right,” he said finally. “You care about her.”

I turned away, not trusting myself to answer. Caring about Aurelia wasn’t the problem. It was caring too much. So much that I’d throw away her chance at saving us if it meant I could have her for myself. And if I thought about that for too long, I’d lose my resolve to let her go at all.