Page 104 of The Crown of a Fallen Queen
“There’s no other way.”
He buzzes closer and grips one strap of my dress. “This dress—it’s the lyranthium! It’s making you act this way.”
Alaric sends a burst of power forward, and the hollowness inside my chest throbs.
“Get in, Percy,” I command.
Percy flies up to Alaric, teeth bared. “You’re controlling her, somehow.”
“I’m not.” Alaric slithers to my side and brushes my braids away from my neck to plant a kiss there. “She’s exactly herself, but without hope. Without joy. The Queen of Hearts in her purest form.”
“Release her!” Percy claws at the scales of my dress, but even though I understand what he’s trying to do, I know it’s pointless.
“Don’t worry. I’ll take the dress off her soon enough, but it won’t change anything. Lyranthium doesn’t create agony. It only amplifies what despair or regrets are already there. It doesn’t summon emotions from thin air, but shines a light on what she’s kept buried. If she’s drowning now, it means she was already neck-deep before I ever touched her.” Alaric licks his lips. “Your mistress is darker than even I am, pet. Now, get in the cage, or I’ll cook you through.”
Percy purses his lips, but obeys.
I can breathe again.
Alaric melts the latch with a zap of magic, and I open the wardrobe.
I don’t want Percy to see me this way. He’s better off in the dark.
Once he’s safely tucked away, Alaric’s middle brother, Salazar, wheels a drink cart into the room. “I have what you asked for, Ric.”
I haven’t seen him since I first arrived, but he must have been at the ball, too, because he’s dressed in tails. His thick beard is at a sharp contrast with his brothers’ sleek, aristocratic looks.
“Come in, Sal.” Alaric picks a familiar cup from the cart and skips over to me. “This is a little keepsake from the ballroom…”
The bronze and tungsten wine flute looks awfully familiar, and my throat itches at the heady scent rising from the wine.
“Brel managed to keep your little potion safe. I want you to drink it.”
The empty shell in my chest shrinks. “No.”
“You’re not as good an actress as you think, and I don’t want to fuck a woman who wishes Seth was there instead.” He sniffs the potion. “How long does it take to work?”
I pick up the flute. “A couple of minutes.”
The scales of the dress expand like the skin of a snake coiling around its victim. I want to dump the wine, but somehow, I can’t. The liquid swirls in a dizzying spin, and I feel as though I was always meant to drink it. I betrayed myself. Denied my conscience. Betrayed the only man my broken heart beats for. It’s only fitting I should suffer for it.
Alaric raises a brow. “And how long does the effects of your elixir last?”
My ribs cramp. “A day.”
Alaric shrugs off his jacket. “That gives us plenty of time to practice before our wedding tomorrow.”
I pull the cup to my lips, and Alaric tips it toward my mouth.
The sweet taste brings tears to my eyes.
“Drink it all. That’s it, good girl.” He brushes a drop from my chin and licks it off his little finger. “Now, we’re going to play a little game.”
Salazar sits on the bench by the window, his large frame obscuring the sky.
“What is he doing?”
Alaric tugs on his belt. “He’s the Worm. He likes to watch me play. Don’t worry, he won’t touch you.”
