Page 7 of A Story of Sinners

I refused to give credence to the falsities he’d spoken.

His words haunted me, and I shook my head, as if I could erase the thoughts prickling at the base of my skull. My fists clenched the gilded armrests of my throne, and I spoke to the occupants of the throne room.Mythrone room. “You are dismissed.”

Fae filed out, one by one, and once we were alone, the others celebrated, hugging each other and chattering with excitement. Lyra poured us each a glass of wine, but I refused to move.

I’d worked too hard to move from the throne, even for a celebratory drink. I killed for this chair, betrayed and lied for this chair. I abandoned my mate for this chair.

Fin gripped my shoulder. “We did it!”

My lips stretched into a thin line as Lyra handed me a small glass of sparkling fairy wine, her gaze raking over the throne I occupied and the crown on my head. Her eyes sparkled as her gaze shifted towards the small accompanying throne at my side, likely dreaming of the day it might be hers.

Never.

I forced a tight smile across my face. “We did.”

I rose hesitantly, as if leaving the throne would somehow undo my title as king, but my friends were owed my gratitude. For their loyalty, their persistence, planning, and bravery.

I placed my wine glass onto the table beside me, prepared to speak, but a flash of gold caught my eye, rendering me speechless.

A stack of unopened letters lay on that table, likely ignored and disregarded by my brother. At the very top sat a golden envelope, stamped with the purple crest of Cambriel.

My hand whipped to the envelope, and I tore it open, my eyes scanning the letter from the new King of Cambriel—Aiden. Its contents were alarming yet thrilling. Finally, a well-deserved smile stretched across my face. Victory. Glorious victory.

In that letter lay a call to action, a call for help. An invitation to the Continental Summit of Nations.

There would be no need to fight or break the established treaty between Cambriel and Faerie—the one that claimed fae could not enter. There would be no need to steal Dahlia away in the dead of night, thus starting a war.

The doors to Cambriel were wide open for anyone willing to aid in their plight.

A wolfish smile spread across my face as I crumpled the note in my fist.

It seemed I would be seeing my mate, and soon.

I could hardly wait.

Chapter4

Dahlia

I’d been left to die. Forgotten.

Darkness crowded my vision, and my attempts at peering into the dim sublevel of the dungeon to see something,anything, proved fruitless. The torches had long since fizzled out, as not a soul had bothered to enter this level of the dungeon in what seemed like ages. I would have given anything for just a bit of warmth. Or food. Or light.

Redmond’s visits had grown few and far in between, but I dreamt of the nights he snuck in, smuggling a basket of food or cup of water. He’d been missing for a while, and I dared not ponder why. The thought of something happening to him, thanks to my mistakes, was too much to bear.

Minutes blended into hours, hours into days, then weeks. Time was impossible to account for, and I’d long since given up on gouging scratch marks into the wall. There was no point pretending there would be a new tomorrow.

I was nearing the end.

My stomach growled, signaling a deep hunger that never ceased, and I listened intently for the scraping sounds of any nearby critters. My fate, for however long, had solely depended on the odd scurrying rat or the slow drip of trickling water down the cell wall, but both had faded into oblivion. The rodent population that had once been overwhelming dwindled to nothing, thanks to my hunger.

I pressed my tongue to the wall and dragged it along the filth-encrusted stone, searching for even the smallest drop of water to quench my thirst. Dirt and dust filled my mouth, and I pounded my fist against cold, hard stone. Nothing.

The dribbling sound of water that once drove me mad had been my last chance at survival, an offering of hope that now ceased to exist.

Just as I would.

My body collapsed, too weak and fatigued to carry on or search for something, anything, that could sustain me. There was no point in trying, not anymore. I’d been left to starve. Abandoned. Left to die.

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