Page 77 of Destined for the Fae King

We don’t make it far before a pained bellow echoes from the distance. The utter agony in the sound, the way it reverberates through my body, raises the fine hairs on the back of my neck.The birds of the forest go eerily quiet. Tharin pulls his sword from where it’s strapped along his back and turns in place, assessing for danger.

I reach for my bow, for any weapon. “What was—”

The sound comes again, this time from a new direction. Closer. Through a break in the tree canopy, I spy something soaring up into the sky. My chest empties out as recognition sinks in.

Fire.

A pillar of fire soars toward the clouds.

I gasp and jolt as Tharin grabs hold of my arm. He tugs me close until I’m practically plastered against his body. His sword is out in front of us, a shield against some unknown foe.

“What is happening?” I implore.

I barely register the tingle of magic across my skin before Tharin jerks me behind him.

“Mira!”

My heart leaps. “Lysandir!”

At the arrival of his prince, Tharin releases me.

I run to Lysandir, but he’s already there, pulling me into his arms. Strong fingers weave through my hair and cup the back of my head, and he holds me against his chest, cradling me like a lost child.

“You’re okay. You’re fine.” His palm skim down my back and across my side.

I lean my head back just enough to look up at Lysandir. His eyes are wide and panicked. His chest rises and falls with heavy breaths like he’s just run a marathon.

“What’s happening?” I all but beg.

“I don’t know,” he admits. The edge of a quaver lingers in his voice. He shifts his attention to Tharin. “Take her to my mother at the pavilion.”

“What?” I gape as he pulls away.

It’s trouble. Or something horrible. Both. I don’t know. All I know is being apart from Lysandir in this moment feels like the worst possible outcome.

I reach for him. “I don’t—”

But Tharin is already there. I barely have the chance to register him taking my hand before the world melts away and suddenly we’re standing under a large, open pavilion consumed by frantic whispers and rushing bodies.

“What’s happened?” Elaine is on her feet, inching her way toward Tharin the moment we appear.

Nearby, more guards materialize with Adeline and Cora.

“I do not know,” Tharin replies to the dowager. “There was a cry I believe to be the king’s, followed by a another and a pillar of fire.”

I nearly choke on a gasp. “The king?” I stammer. “Is he hurt?”

But no one is paying me any attention.

More magic rushes over my skin. Katherine and Zoe are back now, asking the same questions as the rest of us. Lysandir reappears with Grace in tow. There’s barely time for relief that he’s back when he orders, “Get my mother and the women inside. Keep them safe.”

The last of his command still rings in the air when he vanishes again.

“Tharin?” I turn to him, but his attention is focused on Elaine.

“Bring us to the royal wing,” she orders nearby guards. The way she so calmly assumes command would impress even a hardened general. “We’ll stay in my quarters. They’re heavily warded. It should be safe there.”

Tharin finally glances at me, face set with hardened focus. “You heard her.”

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