Page 19 of The Crown of a Fallen Queen (Curse of the Fae #4)

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DEVI

W e’re nearly out of the labyrinth when Lori steps into our path.

The shadow huntress is dressed in black leggings, a sports bra, and an unzipped hoodie, like she’s about to go for a run.

The sight is jarring. Iris wouldn’t have been caught dead in lycra, and she wasn’t exactly athletic.

It explains the difference in their bodies, though.

Lori is built like a weapon, all lean muscle and sharp edges while Iris had been femininity and silk.

I drop Seth’s hand like I’ve been caught doing something shameful. Which is ridiculous. People are meant to see us together. That’s the whole point of this charade.

But no—apparently my instinct is to panic like a schoolgirl.

Gods. What are we, fifteen? Next thing you know, I’ll be doodling his name in the margins of my war plans. Mrs. Devi Devine. Disgusting.

I cross my arms, pretending I was never holding his hand. That I’m above all this.

“Hey. Can I speak with you for a moment?” Lori asks, eyes flicking to Seth. “Alone.”

He groans dramatically, like we’re star-crossed lovers being torn apart.

“Don’t worry,” she says. “I won’t keep her long.”

He mutters something under his breath and heads into the dining room.

It’s bizarre seeing Lori so soon after visiting Iris’s grave, and an icy shiver runs down my spine. I don’t believe in the afterlife. I think that when our souls return to the gods on the solstice, they scatter into the cosmos like stardust—gone.

I’ve never been one for superstition. There’s no heaven, no seven hells, just oblivion.

The dark souls that refuse to go with their reapers and stick around longer than what’s good for them become dangerous, and that’s why the Sun Court hunts them down.

Still, there’s something deeply unsettling about the doppelg?nger business.

About living alongside someone who’s both dead and alive.

A ghost with warm skin and a beating heart.

She fidgets with her fingers, eyes cast down. “Elio speaks very highly of you. He told me how much you helped him, how you risked your life every year to soothe his pain and offer his brides a moment of reprieve.” She chews her bottom lip like the words don’t fit right. “I want us to be friends.”

The way she won’t meet my gaze sets off an itch between my shoulder blades. “Elio and I were never lovers.”

She blinks, knuckles white. “No?”

“Never.”

Her shoulders ease, the tension bleeding out. “Then why is he being so weird about your flirtation with Seth? Why didn’t he just deny it when I asked?”

I cross my arms. “Before I explain, I have a few questions about Iris.”

Her eyes widen. “Iris?”

“I know about your current condition. I…sense her in you.”

She draws a sharp intake of breath, scanning the gardens before lowering her voice. “How? I thought only soul catchers could see dark souls.”

“I have the power.” I hesitate. “Do you…talk to her?”

Lori’s gaze softens. “You loved her like a sister, I know. And she loved you, too. Maybe that’s why I’m so eager to get to know you,” she says quickly. “You never blamed Elio for her death, which he’s very grateful for.”

I start walking away from Iris’s coffin.

It feels disloyal somehow, to discuss this in front of her grave.

“Listen… Iris was never meant to be queen of Winter. When she told me she was entering the Yule pageant to get a frost apple, I begged her not to. She didn’t care about duty, and she was secretly fucking Elio’s brother.

Loved him, even. Her marriage to Elio was doomed before it even started. ”

“I’ve shared memories with her—relived parts of her life while sleeping,” Lori says. “I’ve seen things. Seen you. I feel like I’ve known you all my life, to be honest.”

“It must be hard to carry a dark soul.” I lick my dry lips.

Iris might be listening in, and it’s bizarre and unsettling, but I’ve got to say my piece.

“She’d hate me for saying this, but she never should’ve run from her reaper.

No dark soul stays intact once the tether to its body is cut.

Possession isn’t a viable path to immortality.

Dark souls strong enough to overpower their hosts rot from the inside out until nothing’s left but scraps of who they were.

” A rough sigh slips out of my lungs. “Fae aren’t meant to survive death. ”

Dark souls don’t survive—they infect. And what’s left of Iris will keep festering in that woman until it consumes her.

Lori’s mouth tightens. “Can you do anything about it?”

She wants, with good reason, to get rid of Iris.

“No,” I say too quickly. “And even if I could… I’m not sure I’d be able to destroy what’s left of her. Even if I think it’s the right thing to do.”

Lori squeezes my lower arm, her sad eyes exactly like Iris’s. My heart pounds in my chest, and I’m desperate to change the subject, but since we’re in painful territory...

“I know Morrigan Quinn is in your custody, but I don’t get why Elio is keeping her alive.”

Her nose wrinkles. “Aren’t you glad? Elio said you two used to be friends.”

“She’s the reason I lost my crown. I wouldn’t mind seeing her dead. Has Damian asked for leniency or something? Because I thought she’d be executed the minute she was caught.”

Lori’s frown deepens. “Believe me, I wouldn’t mind seeing her dead, either, but we’re at an impasse. I can’t tell you the details, but she cast a blood spell that makes it impossible for us to kill her. Seth called you a witch last night… Would you be able to help us?”

I shake my head. I’ve never heard of a blood spell that makes someone impervious to death, but if it exists, I wouldn’t put it past Rye to find it. “Don’t let the red hair fool you. I’m only distantly related to witches. Seth was joking.”

“Too bad. I was kind of hoping we could get rid of her before Luther Storm comes knocking.”

“Mabel Bloodsinger might be able to help,” I muse, thinking if Elio’s too stubborn to ask, maybe his wife can make him see reason.

Lori nods at that, and excuses herself. “I’m going for a run. Wanna come with?”

“No thanks.”

Lori waves goodbye before running toward the maze entrance, and I watch her turn the corner. How does Elio plan on saving her before it’s too late? Maybe he’s still cursed after all.

Extracting Iris’s soul from Lori will take more Light magic than Elio possesses. The King of Light would have the power, but Lori is better off as she is now than in Ethan Lightbringer’s company.

A little while later, I meet Seth back in the parlor, and he pats the empty seat next to him. “You and Lori apparently had a ton to discuss,” he says, his inquisitive eyes asking a million questions. “Anything interesting to share?”

I stop by the buffet and pour myself a fresh, hot coffee. “With you?” I taunt.

His plain shirt hugs his body in all the right places, the fabric stretching tight across his large shoulders.

His dark skin is simply flawless. Compared to my scar-riddled shell, the smoothness of his is hypnotic.

It makes me angry, envious, and horny all at once.

I wish I could touch it. Cower into his heat after my long walk in the snowy gardens.

Spring Fae are meant to lure their prey in, but when two carnivorous plants meet each other, they know not to trust the beauty in front of them. It doesn’t make it less tempting.

His eyes darken in a way that sizzles through my belly. “Trust goes both ways, you know,” he warns.

“I asked her about Morrigan,” I explain, trying to appease his suspicions without revealing anything about Iris’s dark soul.

A muscle twitches at the corner of his jaw. “I’ll breathe easier when that witch is dead and buried.”

“I guess we’ll both have to get used to disappointment.” I size him up, wondering if his anger is genuine or just another move in the game.

“Weren’t you and Morrigan friends once? Before she stole your arrows to enchant Damian Sombra?” he asks.

My eyes fly to the sky, my temper rumbling inside my throat.

“When will everyone stop rubbing that in my face? Rye used to be the life of the party, before we all realized she was insane. Everybody was friends with her. But don’t fool yourself, pretty boy.

What happened between Damian and Morrigan was just an excuse to steal my crown. ”

Seth comes to sit next to me, dragging the chair closer so that his knees almost bump my left thigh. “How so?”

I didn’t plan on saying so much, but the words keep leaking out of me, stolen by his calmness or patience or beauty.

“I was too popular, too powerful, and too free from politics and bribes. Plus, I was the only Spring Fae strong enough to craft a love arrow that could pierce a Fae’s heart.

That made me a threat. Threats don’t get to keep their crowns, especially women.

Gods forbid a woman, a Fae royal, be happy alone.

Maybe if I had married some dumb prince from another realm back when I was queen, the others wouldn’t have been so quick to banish me.

” I play with my fingers, keeping them firmly tucked in my lap.

Seth’s gaze drops down to the repetitive motion before he covers my hands with his, and all the stress coiled in my body evaporates. “When you put it like that, it sure hits differently,” he whispers.

Long lashes frame his purple irises, mesmerizing. Damn him and his beautiful skin.

“I’m just stating facts. But of course, banished royals don’t get to write the history books.”

I should hate myself for even considering marrying Seth, as if a man with a dubious title could be some magic fix-all card. The stupid rules high society made up disgust me, but as Mabel says, we are all forced to live in the times we were born in.

Seth’s lips quirk in a sad smile. “It was very unjust, what happened to you. And I don’t need a revised history book to see that.”

I slip my hands out of his grasp to brush a rebellious strand of hair away from his forehead. It’s incredibly soft to the touch.

My gaze falls to his sculpted, masculine lips.