Page 20 of A Crown of Darkness

Lady Oriole nodded, her expression calm again, radiating satisfaction. She had won.

‘Father,’ said Leander, still wearing Finn’s face, still living this lie. ‘You can’t do this. She doesn’t know what she’s saying. She’s mine. She promised.Youpromised.’

‘I promised you nothing,’ Wren told him, but Leander mounted the steps to the dais, approaching his father. Of coursehe ignored her. What interest did he have in anything she might have to say?

‘Don’t do this, Father. I warn you. I will not let it stand.’

The shadows rose again, swirling like leaves caught in a whirlwind. They tore through the chamber, throwing back the guards and forcing them away. For a moment Wren thought it might be Leander’s doing but he stared around, wide-eyed, and his gaze locked on her in accusation.

But it wasn’t her either. Not this time. Her anger might have stirred them but it couldn’t call the shadows, not here, not while she wore that accursed bracelet.

The king pushed himself up to standing as the darkness deepened, centring on the middle of the chamber, a vortex of darkness coalescing in the middle. In its depths, she saw two figures, one standing tall and the other slumped in his arms.

And she knew them, knew them both.

Hestia, limp and pale, magic draining out of her as she spilled her power in a recklessness born of panic and desperation…her eyes almost entirely white as she sank to her knees. And trying to stop her falling, holding her so tenderly…white blond hair whipping around his razor-sharp face…Leander.

Only it wasn’t Leander, was it? His grey eyes fixed on hers and in them was a warmth that had never been there before.

‘Finn!’ Wren shouted, and her voice cracked as she scrambled across the space between them on legs that would barely move.

He stumbled and almost fell as the darkness around them faded. Laurence reached the two of them before Wren could, grabbing Hestia and lowering her to the ground.

‘Aunt Oriole!’ he screamed. ‘Aunt Oriole, please, help her! She’s used all her magic. It’s drained her. She’s dying.’

But no one else was listening to the boy. Panic spread throughout the chamber, chaos breaking out all around them.

Old magic surged through the ground, through the air, a power the likes of which Wren had never felt before. It was not just the Nox, or the Aurum. It was something else, wild and out of control, chasing the magic that had brought Finn and Hestia here. Lines of light and darkness wrapped around Leander’s body and Finn struggled against them, but she watched them spread out, tangling around the two men.

‘What is the meaning of this?’ the king shouted. ‘What is happening? Lady Oriole?—’

With a snarl, Leander grabbed his father by the shoulder and plunged the knife into his throat.

Blood splattered across his face – Finn’s face – bright and red, scarlet making his stolen blue eyes unbearably bright as they fixed on Wren’s horrified gaze.

The king slid from his grasp, sprawling on the steps beneath his own throne, his eyes wide and glassy in death.

CHAPTER 11

FINN

Shadows swirled around Finn’s borrowed body, and his stomach almost emptied itself as everything came to a juddering halt, as if he and Hestia had slammed into a wall of night. She gave a groan and slumped against him, all strength leaving her suddenly limp body. She slipped out of his arms as if lifeless. He tried to grab her, to hold onto her, but it was like trying to seize water.

The world twisted sickeningly, struggling to right itself, and he looked up. They were in the throne room in Sidonia, his father gazing down at him, and a man standing beside him, the man in Finn’s own body…

And then he was standing in two places, both beneath and beside the throne.

Wren cried out, her eyes wide in horror, and something hot and wet splashed over his face. He was holding a knife and…

‘He’s killed the king!’ Leander cried out. Leander, back in his own body, still wounded and exhausted, but seizing the moment and directing the panic of the assembled court against his enemy. And Finn had always been his enemy. Now his brother had made him the enemy of all of Ilanthus in a single moment. ‘He’s murdered our father. Seize him. Now!’

The pounding in Finn’s head reached a crescendo and he staggered back. His father sprawled across the steps to the throne, no longer moving, blood drenching his chest. It wasn’t possible. It wasn’t…

He hadn’t…

The knife fell from his numb hand. Wren’s lips moved, as if trying to form his name. She was so close, just a few steps away. Beautiful, fragile, clothed as the dark goddess the Ilanthians saw in her. Her eyes were wide and dark, filled with tears. She wore a gown like the night itself and her hair curled around her in ever moving waves, alive with magic she couldn’t use because of the bracelet they had trapped her with.

‘No,’ he whispered, unsure who he was trying to reason with. Who here was going to listen? Only Hestia knew what had truly happened and all Finn could hear was Laurence pleading for someone to save her. ‘Please, listen.’

---