Page 32 of Forgotten Monsters
“Get dressed, the King is ready.”
Ohhh—the King is ready, is he?
Rebellion spreads to my blood, and fire lurks underneath my skin.
The Fae servant has laid down a black dress on the bed, and I graze the textured corset, the laced neckline so plunging my throat dries up. “Can I wear something else?”
She clicks her tongue. “He’s grieved for you foryears. What you wear doesn’t matter.”
I bite my tongue. “Alright, but take these damn cuffs off!”
Mary reaches inside her pockets for a small key and complies with a click of the tongue. I rub my wrists in relief, but the spell attached to the shackles doesn’t dissipate.
Fuck it. Dress or no dress, the entire vibe is plainwrong.The only right thing about it is my emerald necklace, which waits for me next to the dress. I let out a relieved sigh as I secure it back around my neck.
The laced hem of the dress waves at my mid-thigh, the scratch of the fabric maddening, and I hate how my thin frame makes me look even younger than I am.
I follow Mary to an uncharted part of the palace. The decorative metallic foliage grows sparse as we reach a long corridor flanked by tall windows. A breath-taking view of Faerie’s sacred tree, the Hawthorn, leaves me no doubt we’re heading up to the King’s wing.
We pass another set of golden doors and enter a dining room. Cole sits at one end of a ginormous banquet table, but he doesn’t get up as we arrive. The setup is grand and ludicrous. Freshly cooked meat and acidic wine flavor the air, but my stomach clenches.
“Where should we start?” I ask, my attitude tucked away by the seriousness on Cole’s face. Despite his icy behavior, I feel for him. I don’t know what I would have done in his position, if I’d lost him only to find him again a decade later…
He serves himself a glass of wine, his eyes locked on his golden cup. “You go.”
Alright, I can give him this. I walk to the opposite end of the table where the only other chair awaits, and sit. “After I almost closed down the tear, Darkwood double-crossed me and sank a dagger in my guts. Allie intervened and tried to fight him off, Onyx too, but he had this magic armor around him, so Allie flew us into the Underworld portal instead.”
Cole links his hands together in front of his face, listening intently.
“There was a huge building on the other side, but it was in ruins and full of hollows, so we had to flee. The dagger wound healed—thanks to you.”
I recount our weeks at sea and the naga attack, giving as much detail as I can until I get to Barron’s claim about the Underworld hub. Cole glowers from the other side of the room, a dark cloud stuck to his face.
“It confirms what you thought—that the Unseelie are using the Underworld hub as a way to travel from Faerie back to their lair. Barron said—”
Cole squints. “Who’s Barron? He just happened to be walking by the Underworld tear when you crashed through it?”
I nod. “Mallory knew him, but he wasn’t very open about his past with us. I’m sure he had something to hide.”
“And Mallory is—”
“Onyx, yes.” The conversation still rings like an interrogation.
He tilts his head to one side.
I force a deep breath down my lungs. “Is Flynn okay?”
He grows a shade whiter. “Verinos is no longer my concern—or yours.”
What the fuck?
The backward answer evaporates what was left of my goodwill and patience, so I slam the utensils on the table and jerk to my feet. “What is wrong with you? Why won’t you touch me? Why do you speak to me as though I’m a stranger in an interrogation room? Why are we sitting on opposite ends of an enormous table full of food when we’re clearly not fucking hungry?”
He rubs down his face with both hands. “You’re exactly the same…rash and hot-tempered.”
“Ohh—I’mthe problem here?” I rush over to him, hating how withdrawn he appears, how cold. “You checked to see if I was truly Jules… I might argue you’re not really Cole.”
He shrugs—fuckingshrugs—and discards his napkin. “I changed.”
