Page 159 of The King has Fallen

We’d been taken, clearly. But by whom? Had her comrades betrayed us? Or had they inadvertently led our mutual enemies to us? Was she imprisoned too?

The Nephilim wouldn’t have put us up this way. It had to be another—

Yilan.

I swallowed the mouthful of bread too early and it hurt going down, but I barely felt it as the memory rushed back to me.

“You hold the keys to my soul, Yilan. And the weapon to take down my people… please do not make me a fool for loving you.”

Her eyes sang of sadness, but she shook her head then turned to kiss my neck. “I will never chooseanythingto hurt you, Melek. You have my word.”

With a low growl, I turned that circle again and even though there were no direct clues, it made sense.

It made so much fucking sense.

Fucking Fetch.

Rage expanded my chest at the same moment something deep inside me screamed with pain. My mate was here. Somewhere near enough for me to sense her.

Lies.

Deception.

Betrayal.

Mate.

I was still reeling, still breathing against the fire of rage when there was a massiveclunkand the twin doors that filled that doorway arch beyond the bars began to swing outward.

I whirled, throwing the bread aside, cursing my body for feeling so shaky and weak, but bracing so that it wouldn’t show as the gap between the doors widened to reveal at least a dozen people.

The anteroom outside the door was dim, no windows or lanterns, but the light from the room was enough by which to see who stood there.

At the center, right at the front, a short, slim woman stood, dressed in finery the likes of which I had never seen. She wore a purple velvet cloak with a white fur trim that was clasped with a gold chain which draped across her collarbones.

Her dress under that was plainer—no embroidery or frill, but made from a fabric with such a lustrous sheen I instinctively didn’t want to touch it in case I marred it with my soldier’s hands.

Her chin was high so that she stared down her nose at me, though I was two feet taller than she was. There was a pretty circlet on her head, and a bright purple diadem hanging at the center of her forehead.

Unlike Yilan, her hair was curly and a warm brown, which was the first surprise. I’d thought all the Fetch were pale skinned with black hair and blue eyes, like Yilan and Turo.

But she was definitely Fetch. Of that I had no doubt.

I’d thought Yilan’s mannerisms were her own, but now it was clear that my mate was deeplyFetch.

As the Queen was revealed, so was the entourage behind her. Several women, also in deep cloaks, though with hoods high, a handful of guards with stern faces and spears at the ready.Then another line of men behind them—one of them was Turo—standing with feet apart and hands on the hilts of the swords at their waists.

And every single one of them reminded me of birds—trim, powerful bodies poised on the edge of movement even when they only stood there. They didn’t move, yet there was afeelingabout them—as if they were only barely tethered to this world, and with one step, they could walk the wind.

Shadows,I reminded myself, grinding my teeth.They walk theshadows.

A memory rushed back to me, then. Yilan’s words.

“…I walk the shadows, I do not serve them. There is a huge difference.”

Was there?

The doors were drawn back, and the Queen drifted forward until she stood just outside arm’s reach from the bars.

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