Page 138 of Court of the Fae Princes

I was wrong.

Everything hurts. My eyes ache from the constant darkness, and all the energy I have left over after my repeated beatings and pointless tasks goes into keeping in place the magical barrier that protects our kingdom. But even that feels like it is slipping away from me.

What will we do when we can’t keep the barrier up any longer?

As I stumble toward the pile, my thoughts turn to the people of my court. They depend on me, and yet, here I am, struggling under the weight of these boulders. Growing weaker with each step I take. Shame and guilt claw at my mind. What will happen to them now that I’m enslaved to the House of Death? What if the Keeper of Death doesn’t stop this game in time?

All of us princes are struggling. I haven’t seen the others recently, but I can sense them. We’re not doing well, which isn’t good for our people. If the four of us fall, so will the kingdom. Doing these menial tasks will only serve in destroying everything we’ve worked so hard to keep safe.

And why? Why is the Keeper of Death pushing us this far?

“Do you want a war with the Iron Demons?” I roar, my fury blazing like wildfire.

A terrible spot of light appears in the darkness, and I jerk back from it, lifting my hand to hide my eyes. It fucking burns so badly that it feels like staring into a thousand blazing suns… until my eyes adjust, and I find the Keeper of Death standing near me, a torch in hand. I don’t know where she came from, since the walls around her still stand, showing no way in or out, but she looks like nothing more than a ghost. She wears a gray gown that spreads over her like spiderwebs, and bones are woven into her long, black hair.

She cocks her head in that creepy way she does, and I feel an icy chill when she’s inches away from me. “You’re smarter than you look, Prince Sunshine.”

Smarter than I look… what did I say?

“How so?” I ask in confusion. The darkness, my pain, my exhaustion, all of it makes my thoughts feel like they’re swimming through butter.

“About what I want.” Her words are low and filled with pleasure.

Then it hits me. “Wait, you want a war with the iron demons?”

That’s not possible. No one would want that, especially a fae.

“Yes.” The word hangs in the air. “Peace has woven a slow and colorful tapestry over the lands. Death no longer visits us as it should, and my house is nearly empty. We have been forgotten–our power ignored. I need people to fill my halls. I need death.”

“No–”

“You have forgotten our place in this world. You don’t respect our house anymore. None of you do.” Her eyes lock onto mine as she speaks, each word a dagger aimed straight at me. “Now, you’ll have to.”

I almost laugh, but bite back the sound. “The House of Death has always been respected, and it always will be. If the courts have made the error of not reminding you of that respect, then we will correct ourselves at once. We will celebrate the day of the dead. Gifts will be sent. We will–”

She does laugh, but the sound is harsh and cruel. “It’s too late for that. We have you four. When you’re broken, the barrier will fall, and the House of Death will have to be respected once more.”

Maybe it’s the pain I’m in, or how unnerving it is to go from days, or hours, I’m not sure which, of complete darkness, to being in the light once more, but I almost can’t comprehend what she’s saying. Getting us to agree to the bargain with Cassia was never about humiliating us, or playing with us. It was… about destroying the kingdom?

I feel sick. A fae bargain is never what it seems.

“Keeper of Death, we will do anything to right the slight to your house–”

“You need not do more than you’ve already done. You’ve given me the lives of all your privileged, delicate, weak fae on a silver platter. People who aren’t warriors like you and your men, with exception to the House of War. People who will be well-fed pigs being led to the slaughter.”

I shake my head, my hands clenching into fists. “You’re not old enough to remember the days of war and darkness. If you were, I’m sure you wouldn’t want that life.”

“I’ve read enough, sweet honeyed prince, to know that those were the best days for the House of Death. I will bring about a golden age for my people once more.”

I want to shout, I want to attack her, but I have to believe there’s something I can still say to shake this woman from her foolish ideas. Fae are known for being tricked by promises, trinkets, and sweet words. Not anger. Not threats.

Something must work to change her mind, but what?

She smiles, drawing closer, her scent of decay washing over me. “And all because you were so sure about your bride. But you were wrong, weren’t you? She was far too smart, too powerful for you. She didn’t want the four of you, even with your wealth and power.” And the Keeper of Death sounds… oddly proud as she tears my heart into pieces.

Cassia. Just her name makes me feel like a knife is twisting in my heart.

Were we fools to think Cassia would want to marry us after we saved her? Maybe not. But we were fools to put ourselves in a position that now endangers our entire kingdom. Regardless of how we feel about her, we have a responsibility to our people. We might have never thought the House of Death would be capable of this, but we should never have taken this kind of risk.

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