Page 129 of Forged in Cursed Flames (Crown and Crest 2)

Algernon brings a fist to his chest, rocking forward even as Lawrence drags him into the chair.

“Where’s Pranmore?” Lawrence demands, looking frantic. “Find the Woodmore!”

The doors are thrown open, and someone yells into the hall, but it’s too late. Algernon falls to the side, out of the chair and onto the floor. Lawrence catches him halfway, holding the king as he gasps for breath.

“Father,” Lawrence breathes, growing frantic. “Hold on. It will pass—they always pass. The Woodmore is coming. He can—”

“Son.” Algernon clutches Lawrence’s arm. “Be a better man than I am. Be a better husband…a better father.”

Lawrence begs Algernon to stay quiet, to stay with him. Our knights circle around the king and prince, weapons drawn.

Suddenly, the king goes still. His hand falls from Lawrence’s arm and hits the cold marble floor.

“No,” Lawrence begs, his shoulders hunching as he curls into himself. He looks at the knights, shaking his head as his eyes pool with emotion. “He’s fine,” he says in a panic. “It’s happened before.”

I stare at the king’s lifeless body, feeling my throat begin to close.

He’s not fine. Not this time.

I drop to Lawrence’s side, clutching his shoulders. He turns into me, shaking his head, his agony wetting my dress. “It’s happened before.”

I have no words. Tears stream down my cheeks as I ache for my friend and his heartbreaking loss.

“It can’t be,” Camellia says softly, sitting up as she swats Augmirian’s hand away. The duke releases her, looking stunned.

Apparently, this wasn’t in their plans.

“He didn’t sign it!” Camellia screams, her usually beautiful face contorting into something ugly. She pushes past Augmirian’s men, shoving Henrik and Brielle aside.

The knights reluctantly part for her, and she drops to her knees, violently shaking her father’s body in a fit of rage. “NO!”

Lawrence shoves her away. “Don’t youdaretouch him.”

Looking feral, Camellia lunges at Lawrence and me, drawing dark green magic I’ve never seen in my life. Just before it envelops us, the princess is surrounded by a familiar blue glow, her magic trapped in a Woodmore ward.

Camellia screeches, fighting the magic.

I turn toward the entrance and find Pranmore, hands lifted, concentrating hard to cage Camellia’s power.

Before I can get my wits about me, someone yanks on my shoulder. “We have to get you out of here,” Gavriel snarls near my ear.

Our knights drag Lawrence to his feet, along with the king’s body. Magic flares around us as Augmirian’s men begin to attack, but I’m already halfway out the door.

“Henrik!” I holler as Denny joins my eldest brother in his quest to haul me to safety.

“Go,” the commander mouths urgently, dragging Brielle into the corner to protect her from the fighting with his body.

“Henrik,” I beg, holding onto the door frame.

We can’t just leave them here.

“After her!” Camellia screams, breaking free of the ward. “Henrik, NOW!”

When he hesitates, Brielle suddenly chokes. The girl frantically grasps the chain at her neck, stumbling onto her knees. Fear contorts Henrik’s face when he realizes what’s happening, and he raises his hands to Camellia in submission.

In reply, the princess jerks her head toward me. Brielle inhales sharply, clutching her throat now that she’s able to breathe again, her eyes wide with terror.

Henrik takes a step forward, his expression hard as his fingers brush the hilt of his sword.

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