Page 54 of Bound to the Fae Assassin

“Gods,” he moaned, turning to his father. “Is that really true?”

But the King could not meet his son’s eyes.

“Please,” Farrow asked. “Please tell the others.”

“People of Fairweather,” the Prince said in a voice almost strangled by sadness. “Eat the cake. A single bite each, so that you may share a morsel with the bakers and with the villagers outside. All should know the shame of our kingdom. Only then can we begin to work to undo this wrong.”

“Alaric,” the King cried out. “You’re under her spell. Can’t everyone see that?”

But the people listened to their Prince. As each took a bite of cake there was recognition and revulsion.

Farrow felt a bone-deep pride. She had used her magic to help the people of both kingdoms, and she had done it in a way that caused her no shame. Her sacrifice was great, but it was worth it.

She called off the vines and released her hold on Blackthorn. He hesitated for a moment, his blade still in place for that killing blow. But then he opened his hand and let the cake server clatter to the floor.

“Guards, take her away,” the King screamed as soon as he was free.

But the guards had tasted of the cake now, too.

“We do not serve you,” the leader of the guard said in a mournful, deep voice. “We serve the kingdom.”

At the Prince’s signal, the guards moved on the King, allowing Blackthorn to step back unharmed.

The King struggled, but the guards carried him away, as the whole court looked on.

Poor Lady Gwinn frowned after him as tears streaked down her cheeks. The sweet lady must have been so ashamed of her former charge. One of the ladies of the court wrapped an arm around the elderly woman’s shoulders and took the empty fork from her hand, leading her to a chair where several others waited to comfort her.

“Miss Barton, is it?” a deep, cultured voice said.

Farrow turned and found herself face to face with Prince Alaric.

“Thank you for what you have done,” he said softly, then turned back. “Lady Gwinn, are we ready to choose a winner?”

“What?” Farrow managed.

After all that, she’d expected to be dragged to the dungeons. But he was going to continue the contest?

“There is an order to things,” the Prince said. “To abandon that order is to invite chaos. And I think we’ve had quite enough of that today.”

Poor Lady Gwinn stood again, a determined expression on her careworn face.

“Your Majesty,” she said, curtsying very low. “The King has the honor of choosing the winner. That duty now falls to you.”

There was a murmur in the crowd. But of course, Lady Gwinn was right. Prince Alaric would be King as soon as his father’s removal was certified.

“Thank you, Lady Gwinn,” he said. “But there is no one more qualified than you. And blood should not come before merit. Please choose our winner.”

There was a murmur of approval in the crowd. Farrow was surprised to realize that the new King would not just be better than his father, but he might actually be exactly what the kingdom needed.

“All the desserts today were exquisite,” Lady Gwinn said, beaming with pride. “The cream on the fruit tart was just splendid. And, oh, how I admired the sugar work on the swan piece.”

Farrow held her breath.

“But the simple chocolate cake was a revelation,” Lady Gwinn said. “In all my years I have never experienced a food that could reveal the truth. I award the prize to Farrow Barton of Lockwood Village. Your cake is the pride of Fairweather Kingdom.”

As the room erupted in cheers, Farrow couldn’t help but notice how ironic it was that she was being lauded just before she would surely be jailed.

“Well chosen, Lady Gwinn,” the Prince said. “In addition, for her extreme loyalty to the kingdom, even under the threat of grave personal danger, I feel Miss Barton has earned a place in the castle.”

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