Page 35 of Dreams and Dragon Wings
I stroke a fingertip against Bene’s amulet, grounding myself with the subtle grooves ridging that scale, before I tuck it beneath the neckline of my gown. Hiding it from view.
Lord Reginald is here. He will be able to get me out of this bizarre situation. Even men like Friedemar are inclined to listen to the wisdom of other men.
Now I finally see why Bene always spoke so poorly of his fellow prince when we were young.
But when I chance a peek around Reggie’s shoulder, my stomach plummets to the floor.
King Friedemar stalks toward us, his eyes shadowed, his mouth twisted into a displeased sneer. “No,” he snarls, his voice cutting through the corridor like a blade. “There has beennomistake.”
His gaze finds mine. In the scant light cast by the lanterns, I see it—his eyes.
Not warm, not regal, but dark. Unhinged.
“Aurelia Weaver ismine,” the king ridiculously declares, as if I am some prized object to be claimed.
A disbelieving laugh bursts from my throat.
But Reggie isn’t laughing.
“Go,” he urges me as he pulls free the rapier at his hip—a decorative blade like the sort all gentlemen wear. I am not even sure he knows how to use it. “Find your mother. Leave.”
Now it is Friedemar’s turn to bark out a laugh. “You dare threaten your king, old man?”
Reggie calmly counters, “I dare protect my intended from the unwanted advances of another man.”
The king’s amusement dissipates in the next breath. His eyes flick between Reggie, me, and the golden mask I still wear.
“Guards!” he shouts. “Arrest this man for treason.”
I shake my head and hastily back away, but it’s too late.
Booted feet pound down the corridor. Shouts echo. I frantically turn back toward the ballroom, where all those people still stand, still watching.
Doing nothing.
“Help!” I scream, all in vain. Because no one moves to help us. No one tries to stop King Friedemar’s madness.
They just stand there and watch as the royal guards descend on Reggie with weapons drawn, as steel clashes against steel. Vaguely, I’m aware of my mother pushing her way through the crowd. My eyes catch hers. I see her lips move, but I don’t hear her words.
All I hear is the guards shouting to arrest her, too.
“No!” I scream, lunging toward the ballroom.
Fingers wrap around my wrist like a vice, snapping tight, bruising flesh.
I cry out in pain as I am wrenched backward and around to face Friedemar again.
“Your glamour doesn’t fool me, Jewel,” he hisses. “I smelled you for what you are the moment you entered the palace.”
Jewel.Bene spoke about those once. They were a type of fae, were they not?
Anextincttype of fae.
“You’re insane,” I accuse, struggling against Friedemar’s hold.
He ignores my attempts to free myself and drags me onward down the hall—like a stubborn donkey on a lead—and into the foyer as more shouts echo behind us, as the sounds of battle fade.
My heart clenches. Reggie. Mama. They are in danger.
