Page 35 of The Crown of a Fallen Queen (Curse of the Fae #4)

Stop the Feeling

SETH

D eiltine’s gates rise at the end of the winding road.

The steep cliffs we rappelled down cradle the left side of the path, while the downhill slopes across from us drop into a frothing sea.

Wind howls as it blows past the surface of our bubble, but here, in the middle of the storm, I feel steady. Whole.

I feel more at home here than I ever did in Spring. It almost compensates for the burn of Devi’s rejection. The steel in her eyes cuts after the night we had. I thought I was tearing down the walls between us, but kindling our physical connection only amplified her resistance.

She’s holding back. Not just keeping secrets—though gods know she has plenty—but parts of herself. Her magic buried deep. Her heart locked away. She flinches at my attempts at small talk and stiffens when I get too close.

I want to believe it’s fear. That she’s afraid of feeling.

Maybe I’m being naive. Maybe she’s already decided I’m not worth it.

She warned me not to fall for her, certain I was too reckless and immature, and now she’s filing me away as just another lover. Another mistake.

But it’s too late for me. I’ve already fallen.

Ahead, wooden palisades block our path. Deiltine’s walls aren’t made of clean-cut timber, but of driftwood from shipwrecks that floated into the bay centuries ago. The wood is held together by time, salt, and spells older than memory.

We climb over the occasional pile of scree until we reach the gatehouse’s studded door.

“Here goes,” Devi grumbles, raising a hand to the knob, but I grab her arm.

“Wait. There’s still one more thing.”

I shrink the protective bubble around us to mimic the kind of barrier a run-of-the-mill, weaker Storm Fae could manage.

“The guard can’t see us looking so dry,” I explain.

“Are you kidding?”

“Just give it a minute.”

When we’re reasonably damp, I tap the round, metallic knob to the lyranthium plate below it. The peep hole in the door opens from the inside, revealing the face of a worn-down, bearded guard.

“We were not expecting anyone today. Who are you?”

Fuck. I’ve never seen him before, so I’m not sure if he’s part of Horace’s crew or not. Horace’s guys are always open to a little gold in exchange for a favor.

“I’m the best technician you’ll ever get,” I say, imitating the local accent. “Horace can vouch for me.”

A sarcastic chuckle pops out of Devi’s throat, drawing attention to her.

“Who’s she?” the guard asks.

“My woman,” I grumble. "Come on, let us in. It’s pouring out here.”

“Just wait. And ask your wife to keep quiet.”

Devi’s eyes narrow, her lips parted in outrage. “What if they don’t let us in?” she whispers in a rush. “We’re not equipped to climb the cliffs back in reverse.”

“Patience.”

“And for the record, I’m not your woman.” She mimes air quotes, her top lip curled in disgust. “I’m baffled you could even get the words out.”

I crack a smile, loving how angry she looks. Anger I can manage. It’s eons better than the stilted, tensed indifference she saddled me with on our walk over. It tells me I can still crawl under her skin.

“I can say it because it’s true,” I say, grinning.

“Only in your skewed, distorted brain.” She paws at the blade hidden beneath her tunic. “What if they attack us first?”

“Then I’ll die as I lived. Drenched and under-appreciated,” I crack. “Look, even if we had reason to push in, we wouldn’t make it to the obsidian passage. Not with your current limitations. What exactly is going on with your magic?”

She fidgets, weight shifting from one foot to the other. “You’re awfully noisy.”

“I’ve been called worse.”

Devi crosses her arms tightly, like she’s holding herself together.

“Your magic worked in the sceawere,” I press her. “What was different there? Why could you use it there and not here? Is it Faerie? Is that why you stayed away so long? After they banished you?”

She doesn’t respond, focussing on the lightning storm above our heads instead. Even though I glamored away her silver stare, high cheekbones, and delicious freckles, I can’t help but admire how her wet clothes hug her curves.

What kind of magic could muzzle someone like Devi Eros?

I’ve read the stories—accounts of her turning the Royal Academy, the Spring Courts, even the Eternal Halls on their heads.

And yet here she stands beside me in the rain, an end-all blade tucked in her tunic, as if her magic—her infamous bow and arrow—have never existed at all.

It wouldn’t take just an enchantment to do that.

It would take immense power. I wonder if that’s why she stayed away so long.

Maybe Faerie itself is what binds her. Maybe returning here is not a homecoming, but a prison sentence.

She turns to me. Her eyes are darker.. “I wish it were that simple.”

The peep hole snaps shut, interrupting our conversation. A breath later, the palisade groans open. The door drags against the earth, sending ripples across the puddles.

“Come with me,” the sentry says flatly.

A second guard holding a double-edge axe motions for us to follow his colleague, the sharp blade decorated with runes.

“We don’t need a guide,” I grit my teeth. “I know this place like the back of my hand. I’ll report to Horace immediately.”

“Horace isn’t in charge anymore,” the guard with the flail replies, his leather gloves creaking as he tightens his grip on the hilt. “Since the old king’s death, all strangers must be taken directly to the warden.”

My jaw clenches, but I will myself not to spark into a one-man storm, unable to hide the frown that overpowers my face at the notion that our stealthy operation has just lost all discretion.

“Smooth,” Devi mutters, just loud enough for me to hear.

Fuck. My past is about to bite me in the ass.

Last time I saw my uncle and cousins, the warden asked me never to return—and his oldest son, Alaric, wanted my head on a spike. He’d drowned in his own hubris. The thought of him curdles my blood. I don’t know what he’s become in my absence, but I doubt he’ll welcome me with open arms.

I watch Devi, rain dripping from my lashes.

Her true beauty is still veiled behind my glamor.

I reach up, wipe the rune from my neck, and discreetly rub off the ones behind my ears.

Glamor or no glamor, my uncle will recognize my bite of power, and I don't want him suspecting I've altered our appearances at all.

If they don’t realize who Devi is, we might be on our way within the hour with minimal fuss. If they do, I know in my gut that Alaric will fight to take her from me.

I brought her here. And now, it’s on me to protect her.

“We’re going to have to negotiate our way into the citadel,” I admit grimly, “even if that means begging my uncle for help. Because my cousins would gladly throw us off a cliff instead.”

A dry chuckle slips from her mouth. “Noted. If negotiations fail, you can go first.”