Page 2 of The Crown of a Fallen Queen
Electricity sparks along her arms, but Luther braces his hands on her shoulders to pacify her. “Meet me at the rendezvous point, Gen.” He tosses his head in my direction. “I’ll deal with my brother.”
Half-brother, really, but I've always been more comfortable in a storm than in the luxurious halls of the Spring castle. While my magic straddles the line, my personality is more compatible with darklings, and no one has ever been truer kin to me than Luther.
Imogen nods gravely, still as loyal to him as she was when they were Faen playing pirates in the Storm Court’s catacombs.She disappears into a cloud of rain, and a familiar ache settles in my chest.
For years I’ve been obsessed with finding Luther, and now that he’s finally here, finally within reach, I’m about to lose him again. Maybe for good this time. It’s heartbreaking to search for someone who doesn’t want to be found and being desperate to help him even though he doesn’t want to be helped. It’s a fool’s errand, really, but I had so muchhope. I thought I could get through to him, or say the right thing at the right time, enough to tip the scale and bridge our differences.
I’ve failed.
Luther turns to face me, his eyes flickering with a thirst I know all too well—one I even shared, once upon a time. “The tides are rising, Seth. The Storm King is dead. I feel it in my bones, and with any luck, all his buddies went with him.” The bottomless greed in his voice makes my heart pound. If he’s right, and all the monarchs of Faerie perished tonight, then the whole Fae Continent is at war.
“It’s troubling how you speak of your father’s death as though it’s something to be celebrated,” I say quietly, beating the thickening fog with my arms to keep it at bay.
His brows raise, calling me out for my hypocrisy. “He was your father, too, and you don’t sound at all choked up.”
I look away from his youthful face, well-aware of the part I played in souring their relationship. “Let’s be honest, he was more your father than he ever was mine.”
Luther’s lips curl in a bitter pout. “Because he was weak. Always scheming to keep us in the dark, trying to control us.” He raises his arm in my direction. “War is coming. What have the seven crowns ever done for you but laugh in your face and reject your power, all because you're a little too dark for the light folk, and too much of an extrovert to keep to the shadows? You have to join us, brother.”
The thought of war, of irreparable bloodshed, ices my soul.
“All this violence. All this hate. It’s not you, Luther,” I croak, trying to hold him back, to keep him from his darkest desires, to save him from a path that’ll no doubt chip away the last remnant of the boy I once knew. But I fear he’s already gone.
“Where you see darkness, I see potential. Where you see conflict, I see change. And the sooner you accept that, the happier you’ll be.” He grips my head with both hands, pressing a loud kiss to my forehead. The loving touch feels both overdone and sincere. “Though I would have loved to have you on my side again.”
Then, just like that, he vanishes into a silver, powdery cloud.
Chapter 2
Monsters
DEVI
All monsters look normal in the dark.
Creatures that aren’t supposed to exist can’t exactly walk around in broad daylight—especially not in a place that hasn’t completely forgotten about the Fae.
The busy streets of Inverness are empty at this hour. Even the drunkards stumbling out of bars and taverns have gone home. The tourists yearning for a change of scenery are still tucked in their warm hotel beds, while the lively shops, cafes, and restaurants remain closed.
It’s the perfect time for outcasts like me to do business.
The glare from the shops’ windows stabs at my retinas, and I pull my hood lower over my red locs, turning away from the wide, reflective glass panes. In these uncertain times, you never know who might be watching.
My army boots echo off the stone pavement as I stride toward the shadowy back alley leading to the banks of the river, where I’m to meet Nick’s friend. The scent of fresh blooms and cheap beer gives way to rain-soaked earth and a hint of something metallic that reminds me of industrial steel.
The man I'm meeting is tall but lean, with a scruffy red beard and wearing too much leather for his own good. His brows knit together when he sees me coming. He’s nervous, twitchy, his fingers drumming against his thigh.
"Oh, you’re havin’ a laugh!” he grunts, eyes to the sky.
“Beg your pardon?”
“How old are you?” he scoffs, like he can’t quite believe his bad luck.
“Older than I look, I assure you.” My eyes narrow just as my lips stretch in a sly smile, daring him to contradict me.
The man pinches the bridge of his nose. “I told Nickolas I needed his very best. It’s a verydelicateoperation.”
I can’t believe Nick stuck me with a rookie. He knows better than that. But even my rebellious godson can’t pick and choose which of his sources will lead him to the most precious cargo. I usually don’t handle middlemen, but after hearing Nick’s claim about the shipment being moved throughmycity, I had to come and see for myself.
