Page 173 of Bride of the Fae Prince

He lets out a bloodcurdling scream as bright blue blood gushes onto the polished marble floor. My arcing sword clatters to the ground. I am already in motion, diving to catch the falling globe—and the hand still holding it—before it shatters.

I barely catch it, wrench Faradir’s severed hand from around it, and clutch the blood-smeared globe to my heart. “I’ve got you,” I whisper, hardly able to draw a full breath. This close, I can see the purple bruises ringing her tiny neck, marring her beautiful face. But her eyes are open, blinking at me—in horror, shock, perhaps—and her hands are braced against the edges of the globe. She mouths my name. “Forgive me for leaving you,” I tell her quickly, then shove her in my pocket and throw myselfbehind one of the pillars ringing the throne to dodge Faradir’s flying axe.

“You are the bane of my existence!” he roars at me. A blast of pure magic hurtles from his one remaining hand and hits the pillar, toppling it in seconds. I scramble out of the way of the blackened rubble, struggling to get my footing as blast after blast rains down on me. “I have never hated anyone so much as I hate you!”

The words ring true, and I am too busy trying not to die to be hurt by them. Rahk’s words echo my ear, telling me not to kill the High King. No matter how much I want to hurl my own magic right back at him.

Instead, I get up and run.

“Don’t run from me!” Faradir bellows as I sprint for the double doors. Rahk is already there, holding one open for me. “Don’t you dare run like a coward! Face me, you spineless spawn of mine!”

I keep running.

The doors to the throne room blast open from a shockwave that leaves them broken and smoking. Rahk ducks into another hallway while I take refuge behind the massive winged statue overgrown with greenery.

I cup the glass globe through the fabric of my tunic, say a prayer, and then the head is blasted off my statue.

My feet are in motion again. I long for my sword, but it’s gone, back in the throne room. Over the sound of my own loud breathing and the crashes from Faradir’s magic bolts, I can hear him chasing me.

I run into the first door I find, fling it open, and throw myself inside.

Everything is blue.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I growl under my breath as my eyes land on a perfectly formed glass peacock lying in two pieceson the floor. The waterfall of blue silk partitions what was once Listhra’s reception room from her personal rooms. I haven’t even made it to that partition before the door is blasted down behind me.

I turn, panting.

The High King storms into the room through the smoking, blackened rubble of the door. His single fist glows with brilliant light, ready to decimate me.

“Do you enjoy being trapped like a dog?” Faradir snarls at me, striding toward me.

I stand on the threshold of that blue silk, my foot ready to take one step back. Waiting. Deliberating with myself.

I willnotsay his title. No matter how much my instinct screams for me to obey the law.

Not yet.

“You do not know how many times I have cursed that geas on the throne that prevents me from siring more than one heir,” says Faradir, slowly approaching with his one hand raised. Ready to end me.

“I know you hate me,” I pant. “I hate you too.”

Keep him distracted. Don’t say his title. Let him forget the law.

“It appears we’re even on that front, at least.” His stump of a wrist drips blue blood on the floor. It matches the aesthetic of the room.

I dare not let my hand stray to where Stella rests in my pocket. My heel inches back. My mind wars with itself, remembering Rahk’s demand. I clench my jaw. If I must make this sacrifice, then I swear by the Great Kings, it will be my last. “I didn’t always. I remember a time when I loved you.”

His teeth flash in an ugly, maniacal grin. “Well, I hated you the first moment I smelled you. You reeked of your mother.”

The lie fills my nostrils with iron. Neither of us flinches, but the truth remains exposed.

Faradir takes three aggressive steps toward me. Blood smears his face, stains his teeth as he speaks. “Tell me you are sorry for the misery you’ve wrought in my life, and perhaps I won’t kill you now.”

I hold my ground.Keep him distracted.“I know why you hate me.”

“Because you are a rebel to your core! You tried me as a child, and you have never once stopped to aid me, to strengthen our throne. All you have done is seek to weaken me. To weakenus.”

We’re only a foot apart now. I’m unarmed, and my magic alone cannot stand against his great well of power as High King. He holds a ball of magic in his one good fist, ready to annihilate me. His only heir. His key to a strong and peaceful reign.

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