Page 85 of Crown of Slumber

“Stay behind me,” he breathed.

“Where is Tyrone?”

A low groan answered me, echoing in the hall. I tried peering around Fenn, but he continued to shield me. “I’m serious, Aurelia! Stay put.”

“Why, so whoever is out there can kill us?” I snapped. With all my strength, I pushed against Fenn’s back. He stumbled, grunting in surprise, which was all I needed to slide around him.

He swore as I crept into the hallway, still hovering just above a crouching position, my legs moving awkwardly like a crab.

The sconces were burning faintly, barely illuminating the golden rug that ran down the length of the hallway. But even in the low light, I could make out the splotches of blood on the floor.

My heart sank into my stomach. Shit, shit, shit…

Nothing but stillness surrounded me. Whoever had groaned earlier had been silenced.

I didn’t want to think about what that meant. But deep down, I knew; Tyrone was dead.

So, why was I creeping down the hallway? Logic meant nothing to me now. All I knew was the quivering in my hand as I wielded my dagger, blade out, so if anyone rushed me, they would get stabbed.

There was no way out if I stayed in my bedroom. Tyrone had been right; someone was after him.

And if they had been stalking him, they would know Tyrone had been speaking with someone. They would come after me and Fenn.

A ringing sounded in my ears, and goose flesh puckered along my arms, making me shiver. I continued following the trail of blood, focusing on taking steady breaths. In this moment, I wished for Tyrone’s fire magic; if I could light a brilliant torch that eliminated the shadows in every corner of this hall, I would feel a lot better.

A choked, gurgling sound echoed nearby, and I froze. Someone coughed, and it sounded wet.

Tyrone.

Then, I was running, urgency flooding my veins, my blood pounding. Panic blared in my mind like a warning bell, over and over and over again.

I rounded a corner and found him lying in a pool of blood with a bolt lodged in his chest. The thick liquid surrounding him reflected the light of the sconces and filled the air with a sharp, metallic smell.

Gods, how could one bolt cause so much damage? Tyrone was fae. His body should have been able to withstand the injury easily.

I rushed to his side, ripping a piece of fabric from his tunic to try to staunch the flow of blood.

“Aur—Aurelia,” he choked, and blood bubbled from his lips. “Don’t.”

I shook my head, struggling to stop the gushing blood. But his face was so very pale. He had lost too much blood already.

“The bolt… is iron,” he wheezed. “It’s too late.”

“Dammit, Tyrone! Do you understand what happens if you die? You left a trail of blood from my rooms!” Tears stung my eyes as I tried fruitlessly to save this despicable man’s life. Mere moments ago, I had daydreamed of ending him, of letting my blade be the last thing he saw.

And now, there was a killer out there who had made damn sure that there was evidence leading to my bedroom just before Tyrone’s death.

“Tell… my brother…” Tyrone coughed again, spraying flecks of blood on my nightgown.

“Be quiet,” I ordered, still pressing hard on the wound.

Tyrone’s eyes started to glaze over. “So much…” He trailed off with another rattling breath and then went perfectly still.

“Tyrone,” I said sharply, then shook his shoulders. “Tyrone!” My voice rang, bouncing off the walls.

From down the hall, a lantern lit. Shuffling noises drew closer.

I stood, my hands and skirt covered in Tyrone’s blood.

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