Page 130 of The Prince from a Cruel Summer
Two men. Two Aidans.
The second Aidan angles his body away from the dead queen. “By all means, come in, Beth.”
This Aidan remembers me, but there’s no amity in his tone, no warmth. And definitely no love. And while I’m not a hundred percent sure, I’m almost positive the Aidan I came in with, the one who looks about to burst out into a supernova of flames, is the real one, meaning the one holding the queen’s hand must be the impostor.
Only Light Fae royalty has the power to disguise their appearances to such a degree, so the man in front of us might be Ethan Lightbringer. But his voice is a little off compared to the cruel, hollow tone I remember.
“Fancy seeing you two here, together...” The trickster adds. “No wonder your bride was crying when I found her.” The man whispers in a very deliberate and rehearsed manner, as though to hide his true pitch.
Aidan curls his fists, marching to the empty side of the bed to clasp his mother’s wrist. “What did you do to my mother?” he croaks, letting Thera’s arm fall as quickly as he picked it up.
“Nothing. Thera’s time had come.” Faux-Aidan rises to his feet. “I wanted to be here for the end and came to deliver your wedding gift.” He reaches into his green cloak and retrieves a long, narrow wooden box. “The queen had ordered a special present for the occasion.”
He flicks open the lid of the carved ornamental box and showcases the contents. Tucked over the white silk lining of the box, two crystalline forbidden arrows shine, their pointy tips reflecting the fury of Aidan’s fire.
“She didn’t want to condemn her precious phoenix to a loveless marriage.” Faux-Aidan’s voice is laced with a sharp edge of bitterness. “You should thank me, really. Who knows what that arrow would have done to you, given your current state.”
“My mother had love arrows made for me and Heather?” Aidan asks.
The impostor nods. “Yes, two love arrows, custom made just for you newlyweds, meant to smooth out the adverse effects of her botched memory-altering enchantment. Do you think she cared that there might not be anything left of the real you after all that meddling? Or was she so far gone that she truly believed it was for your own good?”
A gasp pops out of my mouth. “Thera was the one who erased his memories?”
“Yes. She wanted to make sure her son—her heir—forgot all about his first love. Little did she know it would also prevent him from moving on—or loving anyone else.” An exaggerated grimace twists the imposter’s face, followed by a hollow smirk. “Whoops.”
He tosses one of the arrows at Aidan, who catches it in his fist.
“Who are you?” Aidan asks.
The impostor chuckles, shaking his head. “I’m the Lord of the Tides. The leader of therebels, as you call us.”
A second shadow appears at my back and shoves me deeper inside the room. I struggle to keep my balance, scrambling to stay upright. Before I can react, the newcomer bands one arm across my neck, the bulge of his forearm settling over my throat, immobilizing me in a bear hug.
He’s tall and lean, but with some serious muscles in his unforgiving hold, and I feel as though I’ve been swallowed by a dark, expansive void. My assailant is dressed in black from head to toe, along with the blackest hair I’ve ever seen. A geodesic mask covers his eyes, not as light or functional as most Shadow masks, but definitely magic. His bite of power feels like the crack of a whip across my back, the scents of blackfyre oil and charcoal entering my nose at his proximity.
His other hand is wrapped around the hilt of a rowan and silver blade, a weapon that could either kill me in seconds, or condemn me to a slow, agonizing death with just a scratch. I grip the arm holding me captive and try to ice it through, but my captor grits his teeth and endures the pain, not letting go. “Stop moving, woman, or I’ll nick you with my blade,” he hisses in my ear, pressing me down harder against his hard frame.
A whimper pops out of my lungs as I let the magic flake off into white, powdery snow.
Electricity crackles in the air, nefarious shadows creeping out of the walls and transforming the moonlit room into the eye of a dark, forsaken storm.
Aidan spreads his arms out to both sides. “Release her at once!” He moves to attack my captor, but his doppelgänger wags his finger.
“Tut-tut. One false move, and Beth dies.” The impostor holds his hands up. “Don’t burn the academy down for nothing. I just want to chat.”
“Where is Heather?” Aidan barks. The shock and grief that had settled over his face has lifted, replaced by a menacing scowl.
“Safe, for now.” The Lord of the Tides answers, “But that could change if you decide to make a scene.”
“What do you want?” I chime in, sinking my nails into my assailant’s arm to keep him from choking me. The dark man presses harder and harder on my windpipe, his arm apparently made of stone, the feel of them sturdier than skin ought to feel.
The copycat winks at the dark-haired man. “We’re here to save Aidan from a sham marriage…and take his place on the Summer throne. For the tides.”
“For the tides,” the man behind me whispers lovingly.
“The time has come for Fae royals to answer for their crimes.” The Lord of the Tides pries the second arrow from the box and retrieves a small, red vial hidden underneath the silk. “Drink this.” He tosses the red vial over to Aidan. “Drink it now, or Beth will suffer the same fate as the Summer Queen.”
Aidan grips the vial, his lips pressed into a firm line. “I won’t let you destroy my kingdom.”
