Page 31 of The Crown of a Fallen Queen
My jaw falls open, but I quickly shut it. In one glance, I can tell the heart of this stranger is hopelessly devoted to Elio, but there’s a shadow hovering over it.
A dark soul—a leech—eels its way through the woman’s spine, curling itself around the delicate fibers of her spinal cord. The silent intruder feeds on the connection between her mind and her body, and the way it nestles there turns my stomach. I can’t admit to seeing it in front of Seth, not without revealing my darkest secret.
I swallow, forcing my mouth shut to hide my turmoil. This woman is not only a copy of Iris. She carries her battered soul within.
“You were close with Iris, yes?” Lori asks.
“Yes,” I answer, my voice thick with tears.
Fuck.
Iris’s soul fled after her death, and I hunted it foryears, taking incredible risks and visiting parts of Faerie that chilled me to the core. I had to give up the search not to kill myself in the process.
Why is it here now? How?It’s buried deep in Lori—too deep for me to extract. I need to speak with the newlyweds alone.
Seth clears his throat, stepping into our intense tête-à-tête. “Hey, Lori.”
He kisses her cheeks like they’re old friends, and my gut cramps. Does he know about Iris’s soul?What in the seven hells?
Before I betray my emotions, the window closest to us ripples with the arrival of a Faeling. Dressed in a tight-fitting navytuxedo, with slicked-back hair and round glasses, he carries an air of snobbery I’m all too familiar with. I refrain from rolling my eyes, a grunt threatening to rise in my throat.
Byron almost drops his precious clipboard at the sight of us. “By Thanatos.” He swallows hard, hovering high in the air with his iridescent wings beating furiously at his back. “Percival Batten. How dare you show your face here?” he squeaks.
Percy lets go of my injured arm. “Hello, Byron.”
Byron hikes his tiny round glasses up his severe nose. “Well…you don’t look good, I dare say.”
The Faelings stare each other down like they’re about to duel, and Percy tips his chin in defiance. “Still bitter, I see.”
Byron clutches his clipboard to his chest. “Me? Bitter?”
“Precisely,” Percy huffs. “I was just doing my job.”
“Sure felt personal.”
Seth leans in and whispers, “What’s with them?”
“Byron and Percy used to date,” I explain.
Seth’s jaw slacks, but he quickly schools his gaze back to neutral.
“Did you cross paths with a nightmare on your way over?” Lori asks, settling into the armchair previously occupied by Sara. We all return to our seats, leaving the ex-lovers to squabble over old grudges.
"Yes, a wolf, and it wasn’t very friendly. The first step in taking control of the continent is isolating us from one another, and populating the sceawere with nightmares is an efficient way to go about it,” I say, rubbing my face down.
Percy’s high emotions tug at the link between us, bringing on a ginormous headache.
The corners of Seth’s mouth curl down. "Wolves are Luther’s thing. He must be the one weaving them."
Lori clutches her side. "I bet Morrigan taught him how to weave nightmares. Lucky we have her in custody, or we’d be dealing with venomous spiders on top of everything."
I arch a brow at the easy admission that Rye is indeed here in Wintermere, at their mercy and yet alive, when plenty of time has passed since I learned of her capture. Enough time for a trial to be held, and for a guilty sentence to be carried out. “I’m surprised you let her live. Damian must have demanded her head on a stick.”
The Winter Queen’s expression twists into a pensive frown. “It’s complicated. Do you want to see her?”
My nose wrinkles at the notion. “Never.”
“She might have usable intel. Can’t you rekindle your friendship for the sake of the realm?” Elio suggests.
