Page 150 of Of Realms and Chaos

I lept to my feet, rushing towards the male who I had considered a brother for nearly two centuries. He did not so much as blink at my approach. With more horror in my veins than magic, I looked down at his hands to see them slowly blistering, his armor melting into his skin and the hair on his arms burning away. Despite that, Bellamy showed no sign that he could even feel the pain of it.

“Bellamy, you have to tell me what is happening right now.” Silence. Even the screaming seemed to quiet down as we all waited for the prince to speak. With shaking hands, I reached up and placed my palms on his scalding pale cheeks. Gods, he was going to kill himself with that fire if he did not stop. “Little brother, I need you to let me help you.”

A screech sounded to my right, and I barely ducked in time to avoid the coming raven as it flew in my direction. Someone screamed when it circled low, demons and mortals alike panicking at the sight of a mere bird. It came towards me, flapping giant black wings slowly to hover over me. I released Bellamy from my hold, catching a small piece of parchment as the bird dropped it. Before I could even read it, the bird was off, flying back to its master. Whoever that might be.

Bellamy had finally moved, his fire extinguished and his eyes trained on the parchment. Waiting. He was waiting.

Taking a fortifying breath, I slowly untied the string and unrolled the letter.

Captain Henry Nash,

First of all, if you harm Jasper or Farai again, I will seek out every single future in which you suffer a horrifying death and personally select the worst. Then I will ensure it is the only future possible for you. Do not underestimate how far I will go to keep my family safe.

Now that we have that business out of the way, tell the Healer to help Asher’s prince. Then I need you to follow these instructions word for word.

I gasped at the writing upon the page, reading with renewed terror. Without a second thought, I skipped past the detailed orders the sender had written, letting my gaze roam to the perfectly scrawled signature at the bottom. Though the threat made me realize who had sent the raven, her name at the bottom still made my heart plummet into my stomach.

Nicola Salvatore

Epilogue

In a hallway void of light and warmth and joy, a broken princess was held up only by the arms of two males.

On her left was a traitor, one who gave up everything for a love that did not exist. His eyes of black stared forward, recalling a time it was his sister he carried to her death. Remembering the feel of her blood on his hands as she died. Though the barely conscious princess wore a thick band of leather around her neck, one with runes that glowed as they siphoned her magic from her, even she could feel the conflict that radiated from him. The regret.

On her right was a deceiver, one who gave up everything for vengeance that he would never have. His eyes of brown, eyes that were not truly his, stared down at her. His mind raced with memories of her denial, of her refusal, of her dismissal. Perhaps he understood where he went wrong, but there was no sorrow within him for the princess to sense. Only smug arrogance. For the male, with golden curls that he had only known a year, thought he had won.

Maybe he had.

As the princess’s feet dragged across the stone floors, the wound on her stomach only just healed, she wondered how long it would be before death claimed her. Her mind wandered to the statue depicting the God of Death and Creation then to his true face and name. Would he doom her to the Underworld as payback for leaving him? Or had the place she had gone been the Underworld all along? It was where all wicked souls went, after all.

Try as she might, the princess feared that she was too far gone for redemption.

What the princess did not know was that her story, though tragic, had not been in vain. Whether or not she lived to see that was still to be determined.

The two males continued to pull her along, taking her deeper into the abyss that lurked beneath a gilded island. When they slowed, the Princess forced her head up, those stormy eyes locking with the warmest brown irises she had ever seen.

Behind the iron bars sat a man, his clothes torn and stained but body free of dirt and grime. It was as if he had just been afforded a bath—as if he were being prepared.

The princess let out a gasp of surprise, her mind unable to comprehend what she was seeing. Who could blame her when little sense could be made of it?

The two males opened the cage beside his, and then they shoved her, watching as she flew to the ground with enough force to tear a cry of pain from her. Still, her gaze remained fixed on the prisoner to her right, who was scrambling towards her in a panic.

“Asher! Asher, are you okay?” Terror pinched his handsome features, those full lips and that petite nose so like his sister’s. In fact, there within the depths of those brown eyes were flecks of green, so similar to the bratty woman. The princess could find no words but one, the same that she had once used like a curse. As his warm pale hand met her cheek through the bars, the princess spoke.

“Sterling?”

Behind them, a Shifter loomed, his laugh wicked and vindictive in its shrillness. The princess turned, her eyes wide as she watched the male who had touched her and kissed her and threatened her morph. The thick blonde curls flattened, turning a muddy brown color. His once-pale skin deepened, taking on a shade of creamy brown. Those eyes, the ones that stared at her in her nightmares, lightened, a deep blue replacing the brown. Before her now stood a male she had not seen since Academy.

An immensely strong Multiple smiled down at the female he had long dreamed of holding. One he had wanted since he was only twelve years old. The very female who had rejected him time and time again, only to find herself at his mercy now.

“Hello, Ash.” The Multiple leaned forward, wrapping his hands around the bars and leaning his head against the metal. The princess recoiled, her eyes switching between the fae in front of her and the mortal beside her. Panic began to consume her, to remind her of all that she lost and all that she would lose still. In her state, she did not notice the traitor demon disappear in a cloud of darkness, nor did she witness when he reappeared, a golden queen now at his side. “I think I did quite well. The only thing I got wrong was his height, but you did not seem to realize. Not that I blame you. The two of you only met, what, twice?”

“Once,” the true prince beside her corrected with a growl.

His accent was twin to his sister’s, just slightly less formal than his parents’. Despite her horror, the princess silently chastised herself for not noticing before. For not putting together the pieces of the puzzle she had been given over the last year.

Before the princess could respond, the sound of heels meeting stone sounded from down the hall, lilac flooding the air. The queen, with her icy blue eyes and her bright orange hair, strutted forward, a smile contorting her face. There was no love in that expression, but perhaps there was some in those eyes. A love that was dangerous, for it brought nothing other than violence and desperation.

---