Page 49 of The Crown of a Fallen Queen (Curse of the Fae #4)

I circle around Nathaniel, putting distance between myself and the ledge, then step into the third circle.

“Did you hear me?” I call out. “I challenge you, Alaric Neptune Rayne.”

He thinks I’m broken.

Bruised.

Barely standing.

Easy pickings.

He’s king. I’m nothing. And that’s why he laughs, even though I know his name. “You challenge me?”

“I invoke the ancient rite of rakvir ,” I say, my voice raw, cracked. “A duel to decide who gets to wed this woman.”

The laws of the Storm Court are older than any crown, and if he insists on this ancient, barbaric wedding, dusting off some forsaken part of our history, I can only repay the favor.

“You insisted on a traditional Storm wedding. Challenges are allowed, and to the death,” I add.

Echoes and shouts ripple through the amphitheater. No one invokes those laws anymore, not since the Mist Wars ended, but they’re still written. Still binding. It’s not a wedding arena for nothing, and for once, Alaric’s arrogance works in my favor, because he can’t imagine losing.

Nathaniel walks offstage in a hurry, the tails of his coat flying behind him.

Devi’s lips part in surprise, the first sign that she heard me. That she even knows I’m here. She cranes her neck around to glance past Alaric and meets my gaze. The cold in her eyes, the tightness in her jaw… those aren’t just signs of lyranthium poisoning. They’re signs of suffering.

“You’d die for her?” Alaric drawls, mocking. “Even with my seed still leaking out of her sweet cunt?”

Devi’s silver gaze drops back to the ground at that, but I don’t miss a beat.

“I would.”

Rage floods my blood, chest, and ears. That monster.

I swallow the acrid swell rising in my throat, forcing it down before it can poison my thoughts. He hurt her. Violated her. And that breaks me more than any wound Alaric could ever inflict. No wonder she’s given up—she’s in shock.

“Very well,” Alaric purrs, rolling his shoulders. “I accept.” He strips off his jacket and undershirt and throws them both to the ground.

I do the same, revealing my bruises, lacerations, and burns.

Devi stirs. Her now translucent gown gleams like frostbitten snow in the night, but it’s the heat in her cheeks that quickens my pulse. A flicker of life. Defiance. Her fists tighten against the silk at her sides.

“You promised he’d be safe,” she whispers. The words are barely audible, but the ache in her voice is sharp enough to pierce stone.

Two sprites fly to keep her from getting involved, one on each arm. They turn her back around and force her to her knees.

“The bride must wait for the victor at the altar,” Brel says mechanically.

Devi retreats back into whatever hell she’s buried herself in—chin lifted, face blank, eyes dead, but everything is different.

The pain fades. The unbearable weight pressing down on my ribs eases. Because if there’s even a sliver of her left in there, if she’s still fighting in her own,hopeless way, then I can fight, too.

I will kill Alaric Rayne if it’s the last thing I do.

Alaric raises his hand, and sparks race along his fingers, waiting to be unleashed. Wind gusts into the arena. Thunder cracks above us. The stone under my feet vibrates.

The rules are clear. No armor. No weapons. No tricks. Only Storm magic and brute strength. Nothing else. I can’t rely on my mother’s gifts. This fight is on his terms.

I set my feet. My knuckles tighten.

Alaric drinks in the sight of my wounds. “Look at you. You’re already broken.”

He doesn’t wait. The wind slams into me. I slide back, boots scraping on stone, but my balance holds.

I send a blast of lightning into his chest. He takes it in stride, inflating his pecs to receive it, then laughs. “You think you can overpower your king? I’m a vessel for Zeus himself. He chose me to represent him on this earth?—”

I leap forward, closing the distance in three strides. My fist connects with his jaw, and a dark satisfaction rakes through me as the hit lands hard. His head jerks, and blood sprays the floor.

“You talk too much,” I say.

With a snarl, he punches my side. My vision flickers. My legs weaken, but I stay upright, avoiding his next two strikes as I try to immobilize him in a rear chokehold. He grunts and grasps my arm, keeping it from strangling him.

Another flash blinds me. Lightning hits my shoulder, and heat surges through me. My muscles scream. The scent of burned cloth and skin pervades the air.

I land a few quick blows, but his wind acts as a shield, keeping the other kicks and punches from landing, until it gathers below him. He lifts from the ground and hovers a few feet into the air.

Alaric’s power threads through my body like marionette strings, and I fall to my knees at his feet. Thunder pounds through the arena, each crash counting down the last seconds of my life. Rain whips across my skin, soaking me through.

My arms are scorched. My knees are bleeding. I can’t breathe right.

A powerful lash knocks the wind out of me, and my vision sways. The sky deepens to black, lightning gathering at his fingertips as the crowd roars his name in cheer.

He’s going to win.

And then, I see Devi.

She’s no longer held at the altar. She’s wrapped around Alaric’s neck, her fingers clawing at his eyes, her weight throwing him off balance. He staggers, and they both crash to the ground.

The crowd barks in outrage as the storm dies for a beat.

The pressure lifts from my chest, and I suck in air. The taste of blood and burnt stone fills my mouth. Then a flash of metal catches my eye to my left—a heart-shaped hilt, its greenish sheen promising certain death.

Devi’s end-all blade.

How the hell did it get here?

Doesn’t matter.

I lunge for it. My fingers close around the hilt just as Alaric slams a bolt where I stood seconds before, heat scorching my back.

I rise, blade in hand.

Screw the rules.

This ends with him dead.

Alaric spots the weapon and scans the crowd, nostrils flaring.

His gaze locks on Nathaniel. His younger brother is leaning against the stone arch of a side passage carved into the arena wall.

The first few rows of seats curve over it, casting deep shadows inside the alcove, hiding the narrow passage from view of the spectators.

It’s meant for dramatic arrivals or exits, but today, it hides a quiet rebellion.

Nathan prowls forward, revealing his presence to the crowd. “Where is Tatiana? What did you do to her?”

Alaric’s jaw ticks as he glares at his brother. “You never loved her, admit it. Only toyed with her because I wanted her. Well, I got to her first, Nate, and she was good. Maybe now that she’s worthless, her father will let you play with her too.”

Nathan spits at Alaric’s feet. “Zeus made a mistake, choosing you.”

The sky rumbles, Alaric’s knuckles overrun with yellow lines of electricity.

“You will all kneel for your one true king.” He joins his hands to concentrate his power into a giant flare of lightning, and I brace myself for the strike.

The bolt hits me square in the chest, short-circuiting my heart and my breath.

The forced reboot of my nervous system sends me crashing to the ground, and I drop the blade.

My clothes ignite before the lightning arcs, snapping to Nathan and blasting the man back several feet. His skull emits a sickening crack as it hits the rock.

Alaric’s lightning chains toward Devi next. It slams into her chest, hurling her backward… straight over the ledge.