Page 18 of A War of Three Kings

Edmund barks orders to his guards, but I don’t hear them. I sway dangerously on my feet as fatigue rushes in. Abruptly, the humans funnel out of the room. Edmund is the last to leave, his magic still binding me as he examines me from the doorway.

“Just so you know,” he says, “we never tortured your man. Not like you think.”

I am so sick of these games.

I shoot him a gaze simmering with hatred. “Then why was he screaming when they pulled him from the room?”

“Because we told him you were about to be executed. Not even I would stoop so low as to cut up a man.”

He turns on his heel, stalks out of the room and slams the door behind him. Tethers of air release me, and I collapse to the ground.

I hadn’t realized he had been helping to hold me up.

Hot tears run down my face as I finally let go of everything I have been holding in. All the fear and grief and betrayal. Keira and I have both let each other down. My people suffered for the love between us, and now it may wither up and die. She can hardly look at me.

By the time the door opens again, I am seated at the table with a forgotten plate of food in front of me, staring into space.

The guards drag in a man who stumbles as they push and prod him. They remove the bag from his head, and Hawthorne scans his surroundings with wild eyes, searching for threats.

I walk over to him with wide arms. His entire face lights up as his gaze falls on me. As we embrace, Hawthorne’s body shakes with tears. We fall to the ground in a half-crouch, both exhausted, physically and emotionally. Neither of us notice the human guards leave.

“I was so scared for you, Aldrin,” Hawthorne chokes out. “For me too. The starvation, the sleep deprivation, the thirst—thatwas bad enough. But when they said they were going to execute you?” He shakes his head and his entire body shudders.

I continue to clutch his chest to mine, repeating again and again that it was a lie. When he calms, I seat him in a chair at the table.

“Have they given you food today? Water?” I ask.

Hawthorne squeezes my arm. “This afternoon, after Keira intervened. They allowed me to sleep last night and gave me real food. A lot of it.”

I pour wine into a chalice, diluting it with water because he is probably still dehydrated, then fold his fingers around the stem. The gods know he needs something to take the edge off.

I search deep inside me for a hint of healing magic, but I can access precious little of it. And the others may turn up in worse conditions.

The door crashes open and Hawthorne jumps, splashing wine in his lap. Guards march in, dragging with them a woman who hisses and swipes out with her elbows and fists. Lavender braids cascade out of the bag on her head and swish around her waist.

“For fuck’s sake, won’t anyone tell me where the actual fuck you are taking me now?” Klara roars, stomping hard on a man’s foot.They deposit her in the entrance of the suite then back awayrapidly. Not a single guard dares to remove the hood on her head.

Part of me admires her fight, wishing I had shown the same savage fury, but a deep sadness fills me to see such rage triggered in the normally level-headed minister.

“Klara.” I say her name as a warning. “It’s me, Aldrin. I’m going to remove your hood. Please don’t punch me.”

“Oh, I’m going to fucking punch you!” she screeches.

I grab the top of the hood and dart quickly back, narrowly missing a right hook from her. Klara staggers and I put the couches between us, but she circles around them to get to me.

“This was your brilliant plan!” she hisses as she chases me. “Let’s go into the human realm and find a human woman who doesn’t want me. I’m too mighty and powerful for any mere humans to capture me.Well, how did that go for us, Aldrin? Did Keira tell you that herfatheris an incredibly powerful fae?”

Klara plucks pillows off the couch and throws them at me. She shrieks incoherently when they pommel me in a most unsatisfying way.

“They don’t know about her father,” I say simply, dodging to the left when she picks up an unlit candle and tosses it at me.

“I don’t CARE!” Klara roars. She pulls a book off a shelf and readies herself to throw it.

I hold up a hand and raise my eyebrows. “Don’t you dare damage a book!”

“I want to damage your head!” She curses as the book slams against the wall behind me.

Klara rushes at me again, and I am forced to circle the couches. It is then that I notice another of my band has been brought to us, still blinded by the hood. His escort of guards watches us with consternation.

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