Page 45 of The Crown of a Fallen Queen (Curse of the Fae #4)

Roxanne

DEVI

T o my extreme surprise, Alaric sends me back to my room without pushing his advantage further, but the unexpected mercy feels hollow.

Dangerous. What kind of maniacal king kisses his new fiancée once, gropes her like a trophy, and then simply sends her to bed?

Especially when she’s wearing the most outrageous dress known to man—a dress clearly designed to be peeled off by outside help.

The imprint of Alaric’s fingers throbs on my asscheeks, a phantom reminder of the humiliating tap he gave me in lieu of a proper goodnight. A crude little pat, like I was a horse he owned.

Brel doesn’t offer any assistance with the dress and closes the door like she did last night, but the click of the lock never comes. Nathaniel was right.

Percy leaps out of his hiding spot, and my heart caves in relief. “The sprite left the door open. We have to get out of here,” he says quickly.

I release my hair from the bun. “Nathaniel warned me this would happen. It’s a test. Alaric will be watching me.”

“Why?”

“He wants to see if I’ll try to escape,” I avert my gaze. “Before the wedding.”

Percy gapes, his face decomposing into a horribly twisted grimace of fear. “What wedding?”

“I know.” My eyes fly to the sky as I try to make light of it. “Another handsome, arrogant Storm Fae who only wants me for my magic. Draw a number, please?—”

Percy cuts me off. “Do not insult me by comparing them.”

“No?”

Failing to catch my gaze, Percy lands on my shoulder and pinches my neck.

I wince at the pain, but in all fairness, I deserved that.

“Be honest, diamantay ,” he scolds me. “From the moment Seth Devine knelt in front of you, a piece of your heart has belonged to him. You can’t marry anyone else, and especially not Alaric.”

A tear weasels its way to my cheek, and I rub it off violently. “Not an important part. Barely a shard. My heart is useless. Broken .”

“And if you marry that Rayne King, you’ll never find out what that shard could have become, had it been allowed to heal.”

“I don’t have a choice. It’s the only way I can protect you,” I explain.

“Besides, it’s not such a bad idea. Who knows?

Maybe his magic won’t trigger the cupids.

Why would it, when it’s not truly mine? I’ll finally have magic again, and if things get a little too dark, I can always fry his brains out.

I’ll at least have the option. It isn’t so different than marrying Seth, and you’ll see that when your silly crush on him fizzles out. ”

“ Diamantay ! Don’t do this. It’ll destroy you.” His voice is high and urgent, like he didn’t really believe me before. “Alaric is like Ethan. You can’t marry a man like that.”

The mention of my father brings acid to my mouth. A dark hole inside me pulses, aches, throbs .

“I’ve been fighting all my life, to belong only to myself, to be queen in my own right, to matter , and for what?”

“For what’s right.”

“Seth is Freya’s heir, Perce.”

“Children shouldn’t be blamed for their parent’s sins.”

I shake my head. “Even if I could find a way out of this, Alaric is too strong, and Seth is his prisoner— He’d hurt him. And you.”

“Then fight! Raise hell! Recruit this creepy Nathan guy to help, if you must. Be Devi Eros!”

“I’m not the Devi you used to know. I faded away, day by day, month by month. I’m tired of running, Perce. I want it done.”

“You’ve given up?”

“It’s no use. My heart is unfixable.” I tear at my fiery locs, wishing I could erase them—erase the woman, the myth, the legend. “The girl you were born to protect is gone .”

He presses his palms to my mangled heart over the diamond-shaped plates. “No, she’s here. She’s right here .”

“I’m sorry.” I turn my back on him and squeeze my eyes shut. The panicked edge of my voice withers into a decisive drawl. “I need you to stay here quietly until I return, Percival Arthur Batten.”

The words hang in the air—more hurtful and damaging than if I’d sucker-punched him.

“Don’t you d—” His voice wheezes out, cut off mid-sentence.

“It’s only for a little while…” I don’t turn back to see the betrayal on his face, the disappointment, the hurt.

I can see them perfectly in my mind.

Somehow, this night has gone horribly, horribly wrong. I slip out of my room, each painful step leading me to Alaric’s bedroom.

Nathaniel’s offer might’ve been well-intentioned, but he made it before he knew his brother was king, and going to Seth? That would sign his death warrant. He’s stuck in a cage, powerless, so there’s only one option left that keeps us both alive.

But as it turns out, I’m not the only prisoner running loose in this cursed citadel.

A flicker of movement. The softest exhale in the dark.

“That’s”—the voice scrapes through the silence, hoarse and far too familiar—“quite a dress.”

Seth.

My steps falter. I thought I could slip into Alaric’s bed unnoticed and bury my shame in silence and silk sheets, but fate’s got other plans.

The damp air of the citadel crawls along my spine, up my legs and exposed thighs. The metal bodice of my dress bites into my ribs with every breath, and I stand there burning. Unraveling.

Seth is still wearing the same clothes he had on when we arrived, his shirt torn at the front like he fought his way past a few guards.

Dirt smudges his jaw, and his dark curls are damp with sweat, stuck to his forehead.

He smells of despair and humidity, raw magic and blightroot powder, but he’s still the most attractive man in the worlds.

Relief floods me so hard, I nearly drop to my knees. I drink him in like a starving woman, my eyes tracing every familiar line—his large shoulders, his witty mouth, the shape of his arms. I want to run to him, bury my face in his chest, and disappear in his embrace.

But I can’t.

Terror coils low in my belly. He has no idea what’s coming. No idea what I’ve promised to keep him alive.

Seth searches the dark corridor ahead. “Where were you headed?” His eyes rake over me, and he takes a step forward, arm extended. “Come on.” He reaches for my hand. “Let’s leave this place together.”

My body tenses, and I jerk away before he can touch me. “We can’t.”

I know better than to fail this test. Alaric is nearby—I feel it in the prickle across my skin, in the way the dress hums in warning, and in the chill that hasn’t left my body since he proposed.

Seth doesn’t back down. “Between the two of us, we can fight our way to the warden’s chambers?—”

“Our intel was wrong. Luther might have ordered all mirrors shattered in the capital and allowed Tidecallers boats into Zepharion, but he’s not the new Storm King.” My voice falters. “Alaric is.”

Seth opens and closes his mouth. “Then we have to escape now .” He shackles my wrist. “I know him. He will hurt you to get back at me.”

“Why would he think I mean anything to you?”

He blinks, stunned. “Because you do.”

He steps closer, both hands on my arms, grounding me.

“You know you do,” he says again, softer this time. Pleading.

I try to lift my arms, to push him back, but they don’t listen. They’re desperate to hold him instead.

I force a shrug. “You said you’d never fall for me. So that’s a gross mistake on your part. Our arrangement doesn’t serve us anymore. Consider it done.”

His breath catches. “You don’t mean that.”

But I do. There’s no way to warn him, no way to explain that death is skulking in the dark. The only way to keep him alive is to convince Alaric that I’m truly done with him.

Something twists in my chest, cold and broken, but I press on.

“The crowns asked me to kill your brother,” I say, the words bitter in my mouth. “That’s the real reason they sent me with you to Zepharion. They made it a condition for us to wed. But you wouldn’t have married me after I’d done it, so we were doomed long before we ever set foot in this place.”

I let the revelation simmer.

A flurry of emotions twist his face like a storm trapped in a bottle. Fury, betrayal. Doubt.

So I remind myself who he is. Why he came to me. What he truly wanted.

My magic. My body. Nothing more.

There can’t be more.

I have nothing else to give.

“You leave if you want. But I’m staying.” I lift my chin, each word another nail in the coffin of our budding romance. “I’m sorry, Seth. Our little scheme has run its course. Alaric asked me to marry him.”

He chokes on a strangled breath. “You’d…sell yourself to him like that?”

“How is that different than selling myself to you?”

The blow lands. His mouth parts, but no sound comes out.

I deserve his obvious disgust. Every bit of that and more .

“I could never have loved you, Seth. Your mother grabbed one of my arrows and rammed it straight here.” I hit the space over my heart, hard. “She drove it deep and raked it around. She doesn’t deserve to die knowing her son and heir will be king after her.”

A strange heaviness settles in my ribcage, like my soul is slowly leaking out. Drip. Drip. Drip. Only the knowledge that I have used and abused Seth remains.

And then?—

Clap. Clap. Clap.

A slow, cruel applause echoes off the stone walls.

Alaric steps in, all teeth. “You heard her, Seth.” He drapes an arm around me. “She doesn’t want you. She’d rather marry a true king.”

Seth summons his blade with a flick of the hand, but Alaric clicks his tongue.

“Calm down, Sethanias.”

The Storm King doesn’t need steel. His power drums down the corridor in a violent gale, slamming into Seth hard enough to blur his shape. His blade is blown out of his hand and vanishes into thin air before it hits the ground.

“But you’ll be her kindred, yes?” Alaric tilts his head, waiting for an answer as though his offer is overly magnanimous. “You’re the only friend she has in these parts.”

Seth struggles to stay upright. His eyes—those beautiful, purple-flecked eyes—hit me one last time. A goodbye wrapped in disbelief and heartbreak. “Do I have a choice?”

“Not really.” Alaric chuckles. “Let me escort you back to your cell. You wait for me in your room, Lady Eros.”

I can’t look at Seth. Not now. Not ever. I’m just glad he gets to live.