Page 139 of Crown of Slumber

I resisted the urge to bark out a laugh at that. Instead I grinned broadly and nodded my thanks to each noble individually.

King of the Midnight Court. A title I had never wanted for myself. Yet today, it made me feel more complete than I’d ever felt in my life.

I stood,poised and erect on the dais of the throne room. Guards formed an aisle before me, and the council was on either side. My heartbeat hammered loudly inside me as I waited.

At long last, the throne room doors opened, and a pair of soldiers escorted Mother inside. Her expression was twisted in fury, but when she caught sight of me—standing in front ofherthrone and wearing my crown—her face slackened in shock.

“Fennick,” she hissed, glancing around the room. “What is this?”

“This is a formal declaration that you have officially been deposed,” I said. My insides rumbled with unease, but my voice remained firm. “As of this moment, you no longer hold the right to rule the kingdom of the Midnight Court. The council has unanimously voted me to take your place.”

Mother’s face drained of color, and she staggered back a step. Her eyes swept around the room as if searching for someone to tell her this was a joke. But everyone watched her with a stony expression.

“You—You cannot do this,” she breathed. “Fennick, youcannotdo this!”

“It’s already done, Mother.” I stared at her, my expression stoic and impassive.

She held my gaze, eyes wide, for a long moment. Then, her features contorted with fury. “I have sacrificedeverythingfor this crown! And you think you can take it from me so easily?” She elbowed the soldier next to her in the throat. He doubledover, and Mother drew his sword, advancing toward me with the blade aimed at my chest.

The crowd gasped. Someone shouted something, but I couldn’t make out the words. I held perfectly still, panic and fear coursing through me.

All our blades were infused with iron. It was the only way to ensure we could kill the unseelie who attacked us. A normal blade wouldn’t deal me a fatal blow. But this one would.

She wouldn’t… Would she? Would she murder her own son?

I had once believed her to love me. To love her people. But these past few days had shown me how wrong I was. I wasn’t sure what to believe anymore.

“Mother,” I said softly, “you are surrounded. Even if you strike me down, these guards will arrest you immediately. Be rational.”

“Rational?” She laughed, the sound high and slightly crazed. “Nothing about this is rational! You are achild. You’ve been so busy cavorting with women that you don’t know the first thing about ruling a kingdom. And you expect me to believe our people willingly chose to follow you over me?” She huffed another dry laugh. “It’s clear you’ve used your persuasive powers to turn the council against me. And it won’t work, Fennick! They will come out of the spell soon, and when they do, I will haveyouarrested.”

She inched forward, and the guards closest to her shifted as if to intervene.

“Don’t,” I told them, raising a hand. “Do nothing.”

The council’s frightened murmurs grew louder. But still, Mother drew closer. With each step, an alarm blared louder and louder in my ears, drowning out all other sounds.

When the sword tip touched the fabric of my tunic, I lunged, drawing my short sword until the blades clashed with a metallicclang.

A noblewoman shrieked in surprise. Mother’s eyes widened. It was clear she hadn’t expected me to fight back.

Did she think I would just let her attack me?

I swung again, pressing my advantage. She parried and dodged, backing up to keep me from running her through.

I had no intention of killing her. But I had to remind her I was the better swordsman. I always had been.

She struck, and I blocked. I swung wide on purpose, and when she fell for the bait, I jabbed her in the gut, then wrenched the sword from her hands. She stumbled, barely catching herself before she fell, then glared up at me, panting.

“Yield, Mother,” I said, my voice cold.

“Never,” she growled, then lunged again.

I swung without thinking. My blade struck her chest, but she didn’t stop. With a roar of anguish, she grabbed the hilt of my sword, burrowing it further into her until the blade protruded from her back.

One of the courtiers cried out, making a strangled, horrified sound. My mouth fell open in horror, and I dropped the sword, but it was too late. It was lodged straight through her chest. Blood bloomed on her dress, spreading until the silver fabric turned crimson. She choked, blood bubbling from her lips.

“Mother,” I breathed. “W-What have you done?”

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