Page 76 of Fae Exile

The moment the words crossed his lips, I knew.

Before Azariah’s eyes widened in panicked shock, I knew.

“Oh holy Etherlands,” Azariah quavered. “It’s too late.”

25.THE ONLY NASTY, FILTHY CREATURE HERE IS YOU

~ ELOWYN ~

“That’smythrone,” snarled a familiar voice as Rush angled his large frame between me and the queen, who stood upon the dais, already glowering.

Once I’d glowed and done ... well, whatever exactly I’d done to connect with the magic of the fae land, I’d realized I’d one day have to confront her again. It was an inevitability.

But did it have to bethisday? So soon?

I still hadn’t finished absorbing the fact that I’d been in the Sorumbra facing off with what I’d then believed to be the last dragon in existence outside of Nightguard, save little Saffron of course, my friends behind me, when the Wilds had vanished. I would rather spend an entire month camped out in the bitter, harsh, insufferable cold of the Nightguard Mountains than to find myself at the palace again with her disgusting stare on me.

Dressed in a lacy black negligee that left little to the imagination, sky-high heels, and nothing else but her crown and blood-red lipstick, the queen snapped at the blue she-dragon, who still perched atop the throne.

“Get off, you filthy, nasty creature. Thrones are for royalty.”

The she-dragon craned her large head at the idiotic queen. The dragon would bite off her head and spare me the trouble. The day would have a happy ending, after all.

“I see only one throne when there are two royals present,” said my father, whom I hadn’t noticed till just that moment.

He stepped out from behind the queen to stare down at the pile of dust and a few fist-sized chunks that were all that remained of his throne. In a long nightshirt, he’d obviously been snatched straight from his bed. No doubt Dashiell would be beyond himself with worry.

The queen shot an irritatedtskin his direction, but didn’t so much as look at him.

“Get. Off,” the queen growled at the she-dragon.

A smile tugged at my lips of its own accord, spreading wide in anticipation of the gruesome display to come. I slid Saffron around to hug him to my chest again, in case he should startle at the imminent attack.

When the she-dragon only hissed at her, before baring her formidable teeth, the queen actually rolled her eyes, frowned, and called, “Ivar. Braque.”

After five seconds passed and they didn’t pipe up to kiss her ass, she finally glanced behind her—wholly unconcerned by the vicious predator several times her size a mere arm’s length away.

Why was she not afraid? My anticipatory smile fell and my stomach churned.

“Oh,” she said. “Right.” Facing forward—looking past the huge, scary dragon to study the rest of us—she scowled. “The magic of the Fae Heir Trials.”

She shook her head, her long, loose hair sliding gracefully along her bare shoulders and back. “Elowyn, how perfectly unpleasant to see you back here.”

I had no doubt now. Something was wrong—very, very wrong. As if I’d swallowed an entire basket of rocks, my stomach took a nosedive toward my toes.

The wicked queen—who was supposed to believe I was dead—didn’t seem the least bit surprised to see me.

Sure, she’d likely been watching me through the many severed eyeballs that still bobbed along the ceiling despite her presence, but shouldn’t she have at least been a little thrown to find me here? For fuck’s sake, Rush stabbed me in the heart to get her to fall for my supposed death!

As if Rush’s thoughts were traveling along the same lines, he fully stationed himself in front of me and Saffron, his fingers loose and at the ready at his weapons belt—not that weapons seemed to do a damn thing to kill the bitch.

“I thought...” the king started, trailing off. “I thought ... Elowyn was ... dead.” Beneath a droopy sleeping cap, his brow crunched into lines of confusion. “…my daughter was dead.”

I scowled, huffed, then finally decided to ignore him, just as the queen had. The man didn’t get the right to call me his daughter when he lazed around letting her do her worst. He didn’t lift a single finger to defend me or anyone else deserving of his protection.

Fuck him.

More so,fuck her.

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