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Lore

R eyla, my fated mate and my love had not only saved me, but she’d also broken the first part of the curse.

We’d worked hard to correct things here in the city, and while this was nowhere close to being finished, we’d done all we could for today. It was time to take my wife home.

We could've tried to flit to the castle, but I wanted our guard to remain with us at all times for protection. That shriek when I was fused back together… The wizard who’d placed the curse knew we’d broken the first part.

Holding hands, we started walking, making our way through the city and into the hills until the carriage Talvon had sent for arrived. As many of us as possible climbed in, sitting close together. I tugged Reyla onto my lap and wrapped my arms around her, resting my chin on the top of her head .

While she dozed, the vehicle took us the rest of the way to the castle that loomed ahead, its stone walls stained with smoke from the city below. Magical torches hung along the ramparts, flickering as pale streaks of dawn broke on the bruised horizon.

I wanted to doze myself, but my mind was flooded with every moment we—I—had spent since the curse split me at seventeen until Reyla came into my life. Such an abundance of beauty and cruelty and dismay. It was a wonder I'd survived long enough to be fused back together. I'd thank this woman I loved for the rest of my still-cursedly short life.

My thirtieth birthday would come in less than four weeks, and all I’d been able to learn was that there was a second part of the curse that must be broken before that day or I'd die. I hadn't been able to discover what it could be. That knowledge had been eating me alive since I started to believe that Reyla, my beloved, willing, high fae wife, might end the first part of the curse that had haunted my family since a short time after Evergorne Court was formed.

I tightened my arms around her as we passed through the gates. My fierce warrior wife. My protector. My everlasting love. I wanted to carry her inside, to my room, and lay her on my bed. Join her while she slept. Hold her.

Love her.

But a king's duties never ended, and there was much to be done before I could take time for myself. For us.

She stirred when the carriage came to a halt. Startling, she glanced up at me, and while her pale face showed how tired she was, her lips quirked up in a sweet smile.

“Lore,” she said simply. Hearing my real name on her lips wrecked me. No one but this woman had called me by that name since the curse settled around my shoulders at age seventeen, like it had done for each king who'd come before me. We'd split then just as they had, and as far as I knew, none of them had ever been fused back together.

“Wife,” I said with pure satisfaction.

Her smile grew, though it faded as memories set in. She glanced around. “The borgon don't appear to have made it this far. No destruction.”

“They focused on the city but might've ventured this way eventually.” I had no idea why they'd left at what seemed like my command. Perhaps me speaking meant nothing. Or everything. More teasing hints to research, more potential clues without answers.

“You're thinking,” she whispered as our guards leaped from the carriage and spread out around us, their weapons drawn and magic licking across their fingers.

“I need to tell you what I can.”

“I’ve learned a few things myself.” Shadows flickered in her eyes. “I'll question you carefully. I assume the same conditions apply?”

I jerked out a nod. If only I was capable of being honest with her without endangering my life. “I'm sorry.”

She stroked my face. “I love you. I understand. We're going to end this.”

That brought a tired smile to my face. “ We. I love that.” I kissed her quickly, wanting so much more than I could ever have.

A light flickered in her warm brown eyes before she left my lap and jumped from the carriage, landing squarely on the cobblestones. She held one of the blades I'd given her in her hand already, and her flinty gaze scanned the area. She'd challenge any threat, protect me with her dying breath, and I'd do the same for her.

We started up the steps but hit a barrier. While the others continued toward the front door, Reyla and I looked at each other .

“What’s that?” she asked in a low voice.

“A powerful ward.”

“Like the veil?”

“Stronger.”

“Forged by many, then.” She squinted at the building as if it would shed the answer we both sought. “It’s not letting us pass.”

Fuck my mother. It couldn’t be anyone else. She’d taken advantage of me leaving to try to solidify her own rule.

I squeezed Reyla’s hand. “Can I borrow some power?”

She looked up at me with complete trust. “It’s yours.” Her eyes closed, and I could feel her tugging in strands of it from all around us. Various shades of purple—and something new and silver. Hints of red. The palest lavender.

When she sent them to me, they shoved me backward.

Her eyes snapped open. “Sorry about that. I’ve never done anything like this before.”

My crooked grin rose. “Your power tastes amazing, love.” It churned through me, seeking a way out. “Watch this.”

I faced the castle and drew in the power that fueled elemental magic, mixing it in with the pure strength my love, my wife, my wildfire had given me without hesitation. It snarled around me. Growing. Surging and waning until it towered above me.

With a bellow, I blasted it out, shooting it at the inky ward trying to keep the king and his beloved queen from returning to their court.

The ward fell. It was almost anticlimactic.

I held my hand out to Reyla. “Let’s see what’s going on inside, shall we?”

A feral gleam rose in her eyes. “We shall.”

Inside the foyer, servants scurried around like stirred insects, their movements frantic as they dragged crates of goods or shouted to one another. A woman clutching a child stumbled past, her face contorted with panic. A steward barked orders nearby, his voice hoarse as though he’d been pushed beyond reason.

A guard spotted us, his eyes widening. He rushed forward, his armor clanking. “Your Majesties.” He hesitated, his hand halfway to saluting before he opted to bow. “You’re alive?”

I gestured for him to rise. “Did you believe anything else?”

“Well, the queen…” His gaze shot to my wildfire who was living up to her name already, bristling at him naming my mother the queen. “The queen mother , that is, was certain that?—”

“She is wrong,” I growled. Very wrong, as she'd soon find out. “What’s the state of the castle?”

“Still on high alert, my—king. The staff believes the borgons will storm the building at any moment. We’ve been preparing for an attack.”

Reyla lifted her chin, her voice sharp and commanding. “The borgons have retreated. Get someone to spread the word before our people stampede through the city walls.”

The guard nodded and spun to relay her order. The firm note in her voice made the tension in my chest ease. She fit this role more than they deserved, this castle full of people who'd doubted her when they should've believed in her completely from the start.

I’d helped hone this skill, but everything she was today had already been there. She’d been a stone that gleamed brighter than all others, only in need of a final polish.

Before we made it halfway across the foyer, a second messenger darted toward us, her pale-faced and her eyes wide. “You must go to the throne room immediately, King Lorick. Please.”

The panic in her gaze scraped through me before Reyla and I exchanged a look, her lips pressing into a thin line. It appeared the “queen” had been busy while we defended the very people who made this court what it was today .

I took Reyla’s hand, and we strode through the castle, approaching the throne room and not stopping as the flustered guards swept open the doors.

Inside, we paused in the aisle, taking in the clamber jutting around the room like a live whip.

Erisandra sprawled on my throne like a viper encased in gold. Beside her, two high-ranking lords whispered and hissed, nodding as she gestured toward the gathered servants. A crew of them shuffled about, hauling gilded mirrors, jewel-encrusted goblets, oil paintings, and anything else of value to destinations unknown.

“Be cautious with that tapestry,” she snapped, her voice cutting through the hum of furious conversation. “It’s worth more than the annual wages you've received thus far combined.” Wages I suspected she'd end if her rule was secured.

Lord Hadrin bowed her way. “You’re wise to secure the castle’s treasures, Your Grace. With the king deceased, we need leadership in?—”

“Deceased?” I drawled, my voice laced with steel as Reyla and I stepped forward. “It appears that someone lied .”

Reyla’s hand remained in mine, her spine rigid as her gaze raked through the room. She noted who was present as eagerly as me and marked them.

My mother’s hand froze mid-gesture, the gilded goblet she held trembling before she quickly set it down on a low table nearby. The lords and servants around her looked everywhere but at us, their guilt as visible as the blood staining our boots. They melted away from her as if that might prove they had nothing to do with what had been occurring during my supposed death.

She pushed herself upright, her elegant composure marred only by the blood draining from her face.

“My son,” she cried, slithering from the throne to stride toward us with her arms outstretched. Her voice came out falsely light, threaded with an edge she wasn't quite able to mask. “You’re alive. I'll behead whoever told me of your death.” Her sharp gaze stabbed one high lord and lady after another.

“You will behead no one. I, however…” I noted the faces and names of those present. Greedy things who'd hoped to benefit from my death. They’d soon discover regret.

“And your lovely queen as well,” my mother said. “Alive and well, praise the fates. We feared the worst.”

My hand slipped from Reyla’s as I moved into Erisandra’s path, forcing her to stop short. She dropped her hands, clasping them in front of her, her expression rearranging itself into something resembling relief.

“Is that so?” My tone sliced like a knife through her supposed joy. I'd loved this woman as a child, but even back then, I could see her cutting edge that would allow no one to stand in her way. “And what, exactly, were you doing while fearing the worst?”

Erisandra’s smile faltered, but her recovery was quick. “Oh, my dearest son. Someone needed to maintain order while you fought those dreadful creatures. I was, of course, keeping Evergorne’s interests in mind. Ensuring its legacy.”

“By looting it blind?” Reyla’s gaze flicked to the pile of treasures stacked like long-lost relics along the far wall, servants working feverishly to wrap and secure them in pouches.

Erisandra sniffed, her hands fluttering as if she could wave away Reyla’s accusation. “It’s standard protocol in times of crisis to safeguard the crown’s property.”

“From whom?” I locked my gaze on hers. “The borgons are gone. That leaves only those within these walls. Do you fear your own people, Mother ?”

Color flared across her cheeks, and she pasted on a tight smile. “You’re mistaken, son. I would never?—”

“I know exactly what you would never do,” I cut in, my voice pressing into every corner of the throne room. “You would never rally to defend this castle. You would never bleed for this city. You would never lift those jeweled hands of yours to protect anyone but yourself. So tell me, Mother, what exactly were your intentions tonight? Speak plainly or I will ensure you do so.”

A few ladies gasped. Lords shifted uneasily on the dais, some slinking down to take seats along the aisle, others fleeing out through the door I and my beloved queen used to depart the throne room. I noted each one and each jerk of my head directed Talvon's way ensured they'd be taken to a secure location where they'd remain until they could be questioned.

Erisandra’s smile cracked, though she tried to hold it steady. “I merely sought to take precautions. You understand. The court was vulnerable with you absent?—”

“You mean with him supposedly dead.” Reyla’s voice gouged through Erisandra’s pretenses like a blade. “We were fighting off the borgons in the city while you…” Her lips twisted. “While you were undermining our rule.”

Erisandra’s lip twitched. “I—I’m insulted that you?—”

“No more,” I roared. “We’ve not only been driving the borgons out of the city, but we’ve also been helping the wounded and mourning those killed by the rampage. While you… You!” I lowered my voice, but it still cut through the room. “While you remained here to plot with a few treasonous high lords and ladies.” I lifted my hand. “Take them all and bind them with magic. Throw them into the dungeons.”

Cries rang out as my guards swarmed the room, securing every single person who'd plotted against me and my queen except my mother. They only hesitated when I twitched my head in the negative. I’d handle her myself.

“Lorick,” my mother gasped, her hands fluttering at her throat. “What are you doing? ”

“What I should've done when I wrenched my throne from your grip years ago.” I tilted my head her way. “Talvon? Take her to her suite. No ladies. I don’t trust even one of them.”

“You can’t do this,” she cried, her voice sharp with indignation.

“You will never be the queen of this court.”

“As you wish.” Talvon bowed and rushed toward Erisandra, quickly securing her with magic despite her shrill protests.

Her shriek echoed in the room as Talvon started to drag her away.

“Your reign is over,” I snarled. “The true king has arrived.”