Page 61 of Fire & Ice

"Now, I want the full story," the queen said, her hands resting in her lap as she looked at us intently.

"My Queen, it's so much to explain, but I'll try to get to the crux of the matter. Sara and Charlie had a plan to make Beau and I fall in love with them. They used some sort of spell to erase Beau's memories of me and then Sara used that ring and, well Charlie used that necklace to try and make us succumb to them. It did not go according to their plans," I explained as best I could, feeling exhaustion set in.

The king let out a low growl, "They wanted you to forget everything that you had with one another and make you fall in love with them? mated separated by the false whims of magic.... impossible."

The queen bit her lip as she looked at us, "That is all you have to tell us?"

"There is something else," Beau said. "Deakon attended the masquerade and conveniently asked me to go to my study with him for a private conversation upon which Sara just happened to come upon us to wield her spell."

"We are very certain that he was there, and the masquerade ball was all a ploy to get us alone and separated. Because as soon as Deakon left, there was Charlie ready to whisk me away into a friendly dance, before leading me right to them to witness Sara and Beau in their farce of an intimate embrace." I added.

The King and Queen looked at each other gravely, before the King said, his voice low and angry, "It does appear that Deakon was working with Sara to put this plan into fruition. He is clearly trying to hurt our son—my heir—by any means necessary."

"But why?" I asked, true curiosity clear in my voice.

The Queen inhaled sharply before speaking, "He may be like others who think our family's bloodline has sat too long upon the throne, or perhaps he may have even had true feelings for Sara and wanted to please her. Either way, until we know the truth, we can't rule out that he may be out for revenge."

Chapter 50

The thick scent of blood wine permeated the air as Deakon strode through the palace kitchens, his boots echoing on the stone floor. His veins burned with rage at the thought of Beau and Tempest cozying up in their lavish suite, sipping from crystal goblets and laughing without a care.

How dare they live so happily, after what they'd done. Deakon paused alongside the kitchen corridor, listening. The low rumble of the staff's laughter and giggles as they prepared Beau and Tempest’s meals made his fangs ache to sink into flesh.

Not yet. He had a better plan. A more devious revenge.

He slid a vial from his pocket and uncorked it, the colorless liquid inside sloshing—Sara's final gift to him. An odorless, tasteless poison that would plunge its victims into a deep sleep from which they'd never awaken.

The servants were good at their jobs, the food looked delectable, and the fresh blood wine was a succulent deep red. As Deakon crept forward, he tipped a few drops of the poison into the decanter, swirling to mix it in. It didn't matter which one drank it. Either one of their anguishes at losing a mate would be punishment enough.

He pocketed the vial again and strode away down the hall, a grim smile twisting his lips. Let the festivities begin, he smirked as he watched the fragile place the bottle of blood wine on a silver platter and carry it toward Beau and Tempest's suite. His plan was working perfectly.

Soon, Beau would suffer as he had suffered. Losing Sara had nearly destroyed him, and now Beau would experience that same anguish. Poetic justice, he thought, humming softly under his breath.

In the kitchen, the staff laughed and chatted, unaware of the poison that had been slipped into the wine. By the time anyone realized Tempest had been drugged, it would be too late.

The servant knocked on the door of the suite, waiting for Beau to open it and usher him inside, Deakon rubbed his hands together, savoring the moment.

His revenge was at hand, and it was sweeter than he ever could have imagined. Beau and Tempest had taken everything from him, and now Deakon would rip away the one thing they cherished most in this world.

Each other.

Without the other, they would be lost and broken. They would suffer endlessly, trapped in a waking nightmare from which there could be no escape.

He smiled in anticipation, sharp fangs gleaming. Such a fitting punishment for all the pain they had caused him.

Tonight, their world would burn and Deakon would stand back and watch it crumble to ashes.

The fragile knocked again, and this time Beau opened the door.

"Your dinner, sir," the fragile said, bowing as he offered the tray of food and wine.

"Thank you," Beau said, ushering the man inside. "You may leave it there on the table."

The fragile did as he was told, hurrying from the room. Beau closed the door behind him and turned to find Tempest lounging on the bed, her hair spilling over the pillows like liquid fire.

"Are you hungry?" he asked, moving to stand beside her.

She smiled up at him, amber eyes gleaming. "Starved."

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