Page 48 of A Kingdom of Broken Bonds

I’m not quite sure how I feel about the fact that even Havoc’s closest friend has no idea what the prince is doing. He’s unpredictable, and in my world, that makes you dangerous. He left me feeling… adrift, unable to fulfil my purpose.

Finnik is staring at me with a raised brow, knowing exactly what I’m trying to do and seeing straight through my deflection with humour. Before he can say anything in return, though, movement at my arm draws my attention.

A nobleman I vaguely recognise is holding his hand out to me expectantly. “Lady Anthea, will you do me the honour of this dance?”

Unable to say no without seeming rude, and secretly glad for an excuse to escape Finnik and his piercing gaze, I smile and place my hand into the male’s before being drawn onto the dance floor.

I spend the next hour or so moving from partner to partner, dancing around the ballroom and answering the same questions over and over. The nobles do not particularly care about me, yet I hold information they want, so I am in high demand. Of course, they all act as though they are honoured to spend time with one of the brides. Really, they just want gossip of what is happening between Havoc and me, asking carefully phrased questions to try and trick answers from me. Most of them leave disappointed, as I know next to nothing anyway.

Dipping my head in thanks to my last dance partner, I move away, hoping to hide in a corner for a while to recover from having to be social. A figure appears in front of me, and I bite back my sigh. When I look up, though, I see Finnik holding out his hand to me, wearing a crooked smile.

“You wouldn’t deny me a dance, now would you?” he teases.

“It depends,” I quip, smiling as I place my hand in his, automatically, falling into step with him as he leads. “Last time we danced together like this, the evening ended up being pretty disappointing.”

His lips twitch, remembering the ball I’m speaking of—when Eli arrived and danced with me over and over.

“Ah, that was because I had to put out the trash.” His grin is feral, flashing those sharp teeth of his.

If there really is anything between Finnik and me, then he is going to have to learn to accept that Eli is a part of my life too. I might have thought he was joking about putting out the trash when he was referring to the other fae had it not been for his grin. He was showing entirely too many teeth for it to be an innocent comment.

“Finnik—”

Whatever I am going to say next is cut off by Havoc, who’s standing on the dais and clapping his hands together to get our attention.

“Attention one and all,” he shouts, stamping his foot loudly. His hair is even more tousled than before, where he has clearly been running his hands through it, and a manic gleam shines in his eyes.

Finnik freezes and steadies me as I bump into him, cursing violently as he takes in the state of his friend. He doesn’t let go of me, though, holding onto me tightly.

Low muttering fills the hall as they sense that something is wrong, the king and queen frowning as they watch their son. In fact, the king is hastily whispering something to his steward. Havoc is either completely oblivious to this, or he just does not care.

“I know you must be wondering why I called this ball. I have an important announcement to make, which is why I extended the invitation to all who work in the castle, as well as the nobility of Drathlor City.”

People shuffle awkwardly. This is not how things are done in this world, and change is not usually for a positive reason—not to mention the prince has been outwardly hostile towards me in public, then today’s strange behaviour. It feels as though that has all been leading up to something.

“Anthea, my betrothed,” he calls brightly, gesturing towards me on the dance floor, my arms around another man. “Oh, and with my closest friend too. Wonderful. Please join me.”

I walk slowly towards the prince. Finnik is stiff at my side, but he walks forward with me as well, something I am grateful for. I am not sure why, but the fae’s presence is helping to keep me calm. The prince doesn’t sound like he’s speaking sarcastically when he mentions Finnik being with me, yet I get the distinct impression that seeing the two of us together triggered him.

Havoc says nothing as we walk up, but he watches us closely. Finnik is very careful not to touch me, picking up on the same vibes I am. You could hear a pin drop in the room, absolute silence surrounding us. No one wants to draw attention to themselves in case they incur the prince’s wrath.

My instincts are warning me not to step up onto the dais, and I listen, pausing at the bottom and looking up at my betrothed expectantly. People shuffle around behind me, closing the gap on the dance floor and moving closer to hear better, while keeping a bubble of space between them and us.

“You are the first bride of the prophecy, and the gods decided to bind us together, making you my mate,” Havoc begins, his warm expression changing in the blink of an eye as he glares at me. “They chose wrong.”

Gasps fill the hall. Not only is he breaking the prophecy, but he is insulting the gods and their decisions. A fated mate is an honour most never receive, and he is rubbing that into everyone’s faces. Havoc’s brothers look furious, and one of them, Chaos I believe, makes a move towards his younger brother, but he is held back by the others.

A part of me was expecting insults. What I was not expecting was how painful hearing those words would be. I press my hands against my abdomen as cramping twists my insides. I feel nauseous and devastated that I am going to have to go through public humiliation once more. The worst thing, though, is the fact that I allowed myself to hope that things might have changed.

“Havoc,” Finnik calls, staring up at his friend like he doesn’t recognise him.

“I will never bond with you, and I knew I had to make this as public as possible, otherwise you would never leave me be,” Havoc continues, either not hearing his friend or not caring. He sneers at me, his true hatred for who I am finally breaking through the control he was attempting to hold over himself.

King Darth stands, his hands braced against the armrests of his throne as anger lines his face. “Son, stop this now, before things get out of hand.”

I was expecting the king to march over and shake some sense into his son or order him to do his duty. Drath is not known for his kindness, so why is this all he is doing? Why is no one stepping in? Why are his brothers holding Chaos back? Am I just cannon fodder, a commodity they are disappointed to lose but not willing to go out of their way to save? Is there something about the prophecy I do not know? None of them are doing anything to help. In fact, the queen is just staring at me with sympathy, like she knows what is coming.

“No, Father.” Havoc spins, jabbing his finger viciously towards the king, his teeth bared and words clipped with his anger. “You cannot force me into this. I tried for your sake, but the more time I spend around her, the worse things are getting in the kingdom. They are the ones who are tearing us apart, not some mystical prophecy.”

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