Page 1 of The Crown of a Fallen Queen
Chapter 1
SOS
SETH
20 miles off the coast of the Summerlands, Faerie
It takes only one big rock to sink a boat. One stupid, badly-placed rock, andbam, you go from being captain of a sailing boat to a very fucked, very pissed off castaway.
And that weird mist—where the hell did that come from?
Water skims my knees as I wade through the cargo hold. The gurgles of sea water being sucked in through the gaping hole in the hull are counting down the minutes until my little brother drowns. Wooden crates slosh around the cramped space, Luther rolling his eyes at me as I make my way toward him.
“You sunk my ship?” he grumbles, unimpressed.
I grab the first shackle chaining his wrists and ankles to the floor of the boat and twist the key into the lock, freeing his left hand. It took a lot of manpower—and frankly, a bit of luck—to get him into those cuffs, and the growing pressure in my chest fills me with dread. But I don’t want him to die, and I haven’t got many other options at the moment.
I kneel down to free his leg, but in my haste, I accidentally tug on the chain. The rowan spikes embedded inside the cuffs sink deeper into his skin, drawing a sharp, pained gasp from him.
“Fuck,” he hisses under his breath. “Those shackles hurt like hell. Be careful.”
I manage to liberate his left leg and move quickly to the other, but it’s tricky with the water rising. “You chained me down here first, as I recall. I was only repaying the favor.”
“I only tied you up because you were being unreasonable.”
“Shut up,” I mutter, my tone more amused than I’d like.
He cracks a grin, and I grin back. No matter how far he’s fallen, he’s still my baby brother.
But that smile fades as quickly as it came, replaced by the cold, hard stare of the revolutionist—the “do whatever’s necessary, kill or be killed” warrior he’s become.
“When are you going to accept that you and I aren’t on the same side anymore?” His voice is low, yet steady. I can feel the distance in it, and how easy it is for him to detach himself from his old life.
I pause, trying to keep my hands from shaking, and finally uncuff his other leg. “Oh, there are sides now?”
“You made it very clear you don’t want to join the tides.”
I stand to work on his other wrist, and the flicker of hurt in his eyes twists my heart.
“So, if I’m not with you, I’m against you?” I say.
He grunts at that, like I’m playing with words. “Seems obvious enough.” There’s that edge again, the one that makes me feel like I’ve already lost him.
A heavy sigh escapes my throat. “You’re still young, Luther. Your so-called allies are exploiting your idealistic views.” The words hang in the air, laced with something I can’t quite name. Regret. Love. A mix of both. “They’re using you.”
The last cuff comes undone, and he rubs his wrists in turn. His magic crackles over the surface of his skin, no longer held back by the silver and rowan alloy. Electricity zaps up and down the muscles of his arms.
“And you wonder why we don’t get along anymore,” he mutters. “When you always treat me like I’m too young to know my own mind.” He shakes the thunder off his shoulders. “You know what that mist means, don’t you?”
My brows furrow as the thick, murky mist that derailed our voyage slithers inside the cargo hold. “Bad weather?”
His focus shifts, and he climbs over the barrels and crates bolted to the sinking ship. His accomplice, Imogen, is tied up in a similar fashion in the back of the cargo hold, and I join them on the other side.
The water is rising quickly in this section, too. Imogen struggles to find traction on the wood, the boat slowly tipping over, forcing her to balance herself on her tiptoes to relieve her bound arms.
The slender woman with short black hair grunts in relief as Luther blasts her restraints off with his juiced-up magic and slides down her gag.
“Well done sinking the ship, Seth,” she snaps.
