Page 57 of Shadows of the Crown

Something solid presses against me, and I pinch it, blinking when the crinkling of paper breaks through the utter silence of the courtyard.

Three words sear through my every nerve like fire when I un-crumple the small bit of paper.

I warned you.

If that message did not solidify my resolve, the sound of the prince’s voice would have.

“What’s going on?”

No one speaks as his footsteps get louder. I rise from the ledge, stuffing the confession in my bra before crossing my feet to face the worried eyes of the prince.

“Ariella. What’s going on?” he repeats, his leg twitching to take another step but halting when my gaze darkens.

He was a fool to become attached to me.

I am not good or kind. I am not the girl you marry and enjoy a life with. It’s unfortunate he will be reminded like this…in front of dozens who wish for nothing more than to capture any gossip they can on the royals.

“This is your fault.” My voice is menacing and cold, causing him to wince. “You just couldn’t stay away from me, and that was your first mistake. Even after I’ve told you time after time that you meannothingto me. That you are no more than a momentof entertainment. Even after I agreed to go to the ball with your fucking cousin, youstillcouldn’t leave me be.”

His nostrils flare, features glazing over before he remembers our eager audience. “I—” His stormy eyes flick to Isaiah, shoulders dropping when he sees just what could make the Silver Wraith cry. His throat bobs, a haunted expression overcoming his face. “I swear to you, I will find who did this and make them pay.”

“Iknowwho did it! Are you that fucking ignorant, Caspian, that you haven’t a clue?” He bristles and rubs at the stubble along his jaw. His gaze searches mine for several moments before he nods, looking away.

Is that all? A nod of acknowledgment for what he and his family have done?

I don’t fucking think so.

I unsheathe one of my blades and fling it, ignoring the warmth that blooms in my abdomen when the prince catches it just before it sinks into his heart. Exasperated noises fall from the mouths of the crowd. They retreat as a group, though do not leave the courtyard—always looking for a show.

I’ll give them one.

Guards rush me, swords drawn to take what they think will be my life. “Leave her be.” The prince raises a hand, gesturing for the men to stand down. They share confused glances before obeying, though they do not return to their original positions. “You want someone to take your anger out on, angel? That’s fine—I’ll havewhatever you wish to give.” His arms widen, a clear invitation. This is a dangerous game he’s playing, unaware of just how thin a line he treads.

“Take my anger out on you? As if you do not deserve it?” My voice rises as I take purposeful steps toward him. He watches me with sympathy, waiting until I’m just inches away to speak.

“I do. I’m sorr—” My fist strikes his jaw, familiar pain radiating through my knuckles from the contact. He catches himself on hands and knees, heaving as he spits hot blood to the ground.

“Donotpity me. You are not sorry,” I hiss, grabbing the collar of his thick jacket and dragging him to his feet so that our chests press together. My eyes find his as they demand him to hear my next words as if they were his last. “But you’re about to be.”

“Ariella—”

“No. There isnothingyou can say that I will listen to. Isaiah is dead. Your entire family will pay for this.” His brows furrow, skin paling as he registers the blade in his abdomen. “Starting with you.”

I release his collar, not taking my eyes from his pained ones as I step back. He falls to his knees, hands trembling around the protruding metal.

He laughs, groaning at the movement. Bile rises while my chest constricts every available muscle. I barely notice people screaming and hurriedly running from the scene. The guards advance onceagain, though I do not move to protect myself. I refuse to look away and break the connection between Caspian and me.

“You areforbiddenfrom touching her!” he roars, coughing at the last word as blood spills from his mouth. He hunches forward, struggling to hide the pain in his features. They pause, unsure of what to do in such a situation, eventually relenting when the prince pins them with a sharp glare.

Has he learned nothing?

I should heal—no. He deserves this.

When the courtyard is empty, his heavy eyes find mine, pleading for promises and confessions I will not give. I look one last time to his blood soaking through the stone—a stark reminder.

In my peripheral, guards peek from around the castle doors, clearly arguing with each other, though none come for me. One barks for another to find a healer. I chuckle to myself—it won’t matter if they find one or not. Caspian’s fate will not change.

The prince’s legs give out as he clambers to his side, barely holding his body up with one arm. He struggles for a few moments before exhaustion overcomes him, eyes closing as his back thuds heavily to the ground, hands clutching the blade.

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