Page 43 of The Crown of a Fallen Queen (Curse of the Fae #4)

Tatiana doesn’t want to marry Alaric, but like most well-born daughters, she likely didn’t get to choose Maddox, either. And Alaric will marry her tomorrow one way or another, so the love potion is kinder than the alternative.

That’s how I try to rationalize it, but my hands shake.

It’s disgusting, plain and simple. I should stop. Right now. Dump the contents of the vial, let the plan fall apart, and face the consequences.

But if I do, it’s not just me who suffers.

I pour the potion in Tatiana’s wine, right before she picks the cup off the tray. The liquid vanishes instantly, and a tight knot curls under my ribs.

I slip out of the room to click the talisman off.

When I return, my shoulders are squared, my face composed. There’s no applause for this kind of trickery, no glory. Just white-hot guilt.

My eyes lock on my mark. I know better than to assume she’ll drink the poisoned wine without a hitch. She wets her lips on the rim of the flute just as Nathaniel approaches and steals it from her hands.

Bloody hells.

I’m too far away to hear his words, but I’m good at lip reading. “May I have this dance?” he asks.

Tatiana curtsies, smiling from ear to ear.

Nathaniel hands the metal flute over to her father. “I’ll bring her back shortly, Your Lordship.”

Does he know? Did he see me spike her drink?

The couple takes to the dance floor. For a woman engaged to Maddox Storm, Tatiana Grimmage certainly enjoys the company of the youngest Rayne. He holds her close, and the way she blushes tickles my curiosity.

Are they lovers?

But if that were true, wouldn’t Alaric be ticked off by it? Unless Nathaniel is making a play for her, like he did for me? Alaric did mention she was a virgin.

As Tatiana stares up at Nathaniel, the storm over her heart thins long enough for me to glimpse at the truth. She’s engaged to Maddox, coveted by Alaric, but she loves Nathaniel. It’s right there, in the glow of her heart as he holds her.

Alaric weaves his way through the dancers to tap his brother’s shoulder.

“Can I step in?”

Tatiana’s eyes widen, and she shakes her head. “No.”

I slip closer.

“You’re here, in my home,” Alaric hisses. “You can’t refuse your host a simple dance.”

So much for patience. Is he such a glutton for punishment that he couldn’t wait for me to act before he picked a fight with her? What is he trying to do?

“Now, brother. The lady said no,” Nathan says, but the admonishment sounds like a taunt.

Tatiana grabs a fist of her dress, standing taller, her eyes narrowed. “If I have any say in it, Nathan will be warden of this province, not you.”

Alaric grips her elbow to keep her from retreating. “Believe me Tatia, I will lead this province. Wouldn’t you prefer to wed me? To stay close to your beloved raven?”

Tatiana struggles, wriggling in his hold but failing to break free. “You’re a monster, Alaric. I’d never lay with you—not even if you were the last man in Faerie.”

Everyone stops dancing and drinking, and Lord Grimmage hurries to his daughter’s side.

Fuck. Where did he put the wine?

Luckily, both flutes—his and Tatiana’s—are still tight in his grip, and he slams them on Brel’s empty tray before taking his daughter’s hand. “Alaric Rayne. My daughter is engaged to our new king?—”

Alaric’s voice crashes through the ballroom in a thunderous boom. “And where is he, eh? Your supposed king? It’s not like Maddox Storm hasn’t broken an engagement before. Who’s to say he’s our new king at all?”

Tatiana’s brows furrow. “Maddox is the Jackal’s son. He’ll be king.”

“Gods are powerful,” Alaric replies, “but their affections are fickle at best.” He finishes his wine and discards his cup. “Be careful, Lord Grimmage. Or your daughter will end up bouncing on my cock as one of my brother’s whores, not as a wife. And certainly not as a queen .”

Lord Grimmage swings at him.

Alaric shoves him aside, sending the man straight into Brel. The flying sprite, Lord Grimmage, the tray—including the two wine flutes—stumble, fall, and clatter to the floor.

Burgundy wine splashes across the marble, staining it deep red. Gossip thrums through the air, the guests absorbing the scene.

Alaric has gone nuclear, electricity sparking off him in all directions. A thunderstorm obscures the glass ceiling from the inside of the ballroom, the somber specter gathered right above his head. His power crackles at the heart of the storm, putting the subterfuge to bed.

Now, there’s no doubt who wears the crown.

Every hair on my body lifts in warning, and my nipples chafe against the cold metal of my dress.

Lord Grimmage crawls to his feet, his sneer melting into a horrified grimace. “You…”

Alaric doesn’t look angry. In fact, he’s smiling. “That’s right, I am now King of Storm’s End. And you’re all expected here for my wedding tomorrow. Especially you, Tatiana.”

With that, Alaric vanishes in a flash. His electricity merges with the clouds overhead, and chunks of hail hit the ground. Guests cry out in surprise, raising their arms to shield themselves, helpless against the incoming storm.

Nathaniel shrugs off his coat and uses it to shield Tatiana’s head. “We should leave. Now.”

“Poor boy,” Lord Grimmage says darkly. “There’s nowhere to run where he can’t find you.”

Tatiana clutches Nathaniel’s chest. “Did you know?”

“No. If I had known, I would have warned you, somehow.”

I turn away from the distraught couple. A strange tickling spreads across my shoulder blades, chest, and neck.

The metal pieces of my dress begin to vibrate, warming against my skin, and I realize I’ve been spared the worst of the blizzard.

The lyranthium shields me from the storm, but Alaric is calling me to him.

And I must obey.