Page 1 of The Crown of a Fallen Queen (Curse of the Fae #4)
SOS
SETH
I t takes only one big rock to sink a boat. One stupid, badly-placed rock, and bam , you go from being captain of a sailing boat to a very fucked, very pissed off castaway.
And that weird mist—where the hell did that come from?
Water skims my knees as I wade through the cargo hold. The gurgles of sea water being sucked in through the gaping hole in the hull are counting down the minutes until my little brother drowns. Wooden crates slosh around the cramped space, Luther rolling his eyes at me as I make my way toward him.
“You sunk my ship?” he grumbles, unimpressed.
I grab the first shackle chaining his wrists and ankles to the floor of the boat and twist the key into the lock, freeing his left hand.
It took a lot of manpower—and frankly, a bit of luck—to get him into those cuffs, and the growing pressure in my chest fills me with dread.
But I don’t want him to die, and I haven’t got many other options at the moment.
I kneel down to free his leg, but in my haste, I accidentally tug on the chain. The rowan spikes embedded inside the cuffs sink deeper into his skin, drawing a sharp, pained gasp from him.
“Fuck,” he hisses under his breath. “Those shackles hurt like hell. Be careful.”
I manage to liberate his left leg and move quickly to the other, but it’s tricky with the water rising. “You chained me down here first, as I recall. I was only repaying the favor.”
“I only tied you up because you were being unreasonable.”
“Shut up,” I mutter, my tone more amused than I’d like.
He cracks a grin, and I grin back. No matter how far he’s fallen, he’s still my baby brother.
But that smile fades as quickly as it came, replaced by the cold, hard stare of the revolutionist—the “do whatever’s necessary, kill or be killed” warrior he’s become.
“When are you going to accept that you and I aren’t on the same side anymore?” His voice is low, yet steady. I can feel the distance in it, and how easy it is for him to detach himself from his old life.
I pause, trying to keep my hands from shaking, and finally uncuff his other leg. “Oh, there are sides now?”
“You made it very clear you don’t want to join the tides.”
I stand to work on his other wrist, and the flicker of hurt in his eyes twists my heart.
“So, if I’m not with you, I’m against you?” I say.
He grunts at that, like I’m playing with words. “Seems obvious enough.” There’s that edge again, the one that makes me feel like I’ve already lost him.
A heavy sigh escapes my throat. “You’re still young, Luther. Your so-called allies are exploiting your idealistic views.” The words hang in the air, laced with something I can’t quite name. Regret. Love. A mix of both. “They’re using you.”
The last cuff comes undone, and he rubs his wrists in turn. His magic crackles over the surface of his skin, no longer held back by the silver and rowan alloy. Electricity zaps up and down the muscles of his arms.
“And you wonder why we don’t get along anymore,” he mutters. “When you always treat me like I’m too young to know my own mind.” He shakes the thunder off his shoulders. “You know what that mist means, don’t you?”
My brows furrow as the thick, murky mist that derailed our voyage slithers inside the cargo hold. “Bad weather?”
His focus shifts, and he climbs over the barrels and crates bolted to the sinking ship. His accomplice, Imogen, is tied up in a similar fashion in the back of the cargo hold, and I join them on the other side.
The water is rising quickly in this section, too. Imogen struggles to find traction on the wood, the boat slowly tipping over, forcing her to balance herself on her tiptoes to relieve her bound arms.
The slender woman with short black hair grunts in relief as Luther blasts her restraints off with his juiced-up magic and slides down her gag.
“Well done sinking the ship, Seth,” she snaps.
Electricity sparks along her arms, but Luther braces his hands on her shoulders to pacify her. “Meet me at the rendezvous point, Gen.” He tosses his head in my direction. “I’ll deal with my brother.”
Half-brother, really, but I've always been more comfortable in a storm than in the luxurious halls of the Spring castle. While my magic straddles the line, my personality is more compatible with darklings, and no one has ever been truer kin to me than Luther.
Imogen nods gravely, still as loyal to him as she was when they were Faen playing pirates in the Storm Court’s catacombs. She disappears into a cloud of rain, and a familiar ache settles in my chest.
For years I’ve been obsessed with finding Luther, and now that he’s finally here, finally within reach, I’m about to lose him again.
Maybe for good this time. It’s heartbreaking to search for someone who doesn’t want to be found and being desperate to help him even though he doesn’t want to be helped.
It’s a fool’s errand, really, but I had so much hope .
I thought I could get through to him, or say the right thing at the right time, enough to tip the scale and bridge our differences.
I’ve failed.
Luther turns to face me, his eyes flickering with a thirst I know all too well—one I even shared, once upon a time.
“The tides are rising, Seth. The Storm King is dead. I feel it in my bones, and with any luck, all his buddies went with him.” The bottomless greed in his voice makes my heart pound.
If he’s right, and all the monarchs of Faerie perished tonight, then the whole Fae Continent is at war.
“It’s troubling how you speak of your father’s death as though it’s something to be celebrated,” I say quietly, beating the thickening fog with my arms to keep it at bay.
His brows raise, calling me out for my hypocrisy. “He was your father, too, and you don’t sound at all choked up.”
I look away from his youthful face, well-aware of the part I played in souring their relationship. “Let’s be honest, he was more your father than he ever was mine.”
Luther’s lips curl in a bitter pout. “Because he was weak. Always scheming to keep us in the dark, trying to control us.” He raises his arm in my direction.
“War is coming. What have the seven crowns ever done for you but laugh in your face and reject your power, all because you're a little too dark for the light folk, and too much of an extrovert to keep to the shadows? You have to join us, brother.”
The thought of war, of irreparable bloodshed, ices my soul.
“All this violence. All this hate. It’s not you, Luther,” I croak, trying to hold him back, to keep him from his darkest desires, to save him from a path that’ll no doubt chip away the last remnant of the boy I once knew. But I fear he’s already gone.
“Where you see darkness, I see potential. Where you see conflict, I see change. And the sooner you accept that, the happier you’ll be.
” He grips my head with both hands, pressing a loud kiss to my forehead.
The loving touch feels both overdone and sincere.
“Though I would have loved to have you on my side again.”
Then, just like that, he vanishes into a silver, powdery cloud.