Page 151 of Bride of the Fae Prince

“He executed Listhra’s friends,” Ash grinds out. “Lady Shalar and Princess Brolnyr. Except Lady Iluna.”

“The Neverseen King left when you did,” Edvear says, his always steady voice shaken. “It was immediately after that when he ordered them brought forward. One of them is a princess. The Courts will riot!”

“They will,” Ash agrees grimly. “After the Nothril Court and the Neverseen King, Faradir wants them to be angry. He wants to meet them in force. Inwar.”

“My lord, this is very, very bad—”

“I’ve got it under control,” Ash replies, a little sharply. “If Faradir wants a war, then we’ll give him one.”

“But surely there has been enough death!” Edvear pleads, and all that comes into my range of vision is one of his outstretched hands. “How much more can we endure? How much more until we admit the High King isthe High Kingand we cannot gainsay him?”

Ash’s hard as flint gaze drops to me, drifts down to my chest as though to reassure himself I am still breathing. “Get Princess Stella’s antidote immediately.”

“My lord—”

“Immediately!”

Edvear shuts his mouth, and I can almost hear the desperation in his retreating footsteps.

Ash turns his full attention back down to me, his expression softening into worry. “Can you feel this?” He runs his hands up both my arms. I give an almost imperceptible nod. “Are you in pain?”

That’s a question I’m not certain at first how to answer. I am overwhelmed with weakness, with the ache that comes with it. But I don’t think I would describe it as painful, exactly. I shake my head.

“Good. You should have your strength back by tomorrow morning at the latest. If you still have immunity from my blood, it will be much faster.” He looks up when Edvear reenters—except it’s not Edvear, it’s a different servant I haven’t met. He gives Ash two large leaves the size of my palm. Ash takes one leaf, rolls it up, and bids me open my mouth. “Can you chew?”

I do, and the unusual flavor that fills my mouth I can only describe as vaguely minty.

“Good, good,” he says gently. “You don’t need toeatthe leaf, but do chew and suck on it. When you’re done, I’ll give you the second.”

He makes to stand, but I reach out with a flailing arm. He stops immediately, turning his concern back on me in full force. “Stella?”

“Ash.” Speaking with the leaf between my teeth is a challenge, but I can’t let him go just yet. Not after what I saw in his eyes when I asserted my glamour at the celebration. “Are you alright?”

A shadow crosses his face. He takes one of my hands, turns it up, and kisses my palm softly. Wordlessly.

Then a soft but hurried knock raps on the door. Ash gets to his feet, his hand going to the hilt of his sword. Feeling bits of strength returning the longer I suck on this leaf, I turn my head to follow him to the door as Edvear darts out of the kitchen.

“Hurry!” the steward says. “The footman should be back from—”

Ash opens the door—

And a rush of blue fabric and flashing gold eyes come flying through the opening. Ash, letting out a grunt of surprise, barely dodges the sword Listhra swings straight at him. Someone is screaming, but I can hardly tell whom.

My blood spikes in my veins. I think my husband’s name rips from my throat in a frantic cry, but there’s a sudden clash ofblades, the sound of glass shattering, and such a cacophony I can barely think.

I can’t stay lying on this couch.

Especially as Listhra’s wild eyes latch on to me, lying helpless with a stupid leaf sticking out between my teeth.

Listhra dives for me, using her wings to lend her speed. Ash snarls something vicious, grabs her ankle, and yanks her back so violently she hits the wall with enough force to send a crack shooting up through the plaster.

Frantically, I roll off the couch, land in a heap of limbs on the floor, spit out my leaf, and try to crawl away. My legs give out. A frustrated, panicked whimper escapes me as something flies through the air, hits the couch just above my head with a sharp thunk.A knife.

If I was any less scared, I might have been able to scream.

“You wicked soul!” Listhra plunges her blade toward Ash’s stomach, and he ducks to one side, rolls, and grabs her neck. She screams, then sinks her fangs into his shoulder. He lets out a hiss, tightens his grip on her neck, and slams her head into the wall.

“Don’t make me kill you,” he seethes.

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