Page 19 of A War of Three Kings

“Now that is a sentiment I can get behind,” Drake’s voice booms, right as a guard whips the bag off his head. He steadieshis staggering steps by grabbing the guard’s elbow. “Boy, I said I will destroy you if you touch me again. Do you know what we do to humans in our realm? We drink their blood. We wear their skin as cloaks. And we use pretty little boys like you to pour our wine.”

Drake beams his classic sardonic smile that is all teeth down at the blond guard with delicate, handsome features, who is probably around Keira’s age. Drake towers a good head over him and is half again as wide, and the guard visibly pales, not understanding Drake’s humor. Few appreciate it.

“Don’t start more rumors, Drake.” I run a hand through my hair. “They already think badly enough of us.”

Klara comes up beside me while I am distracted and rams an elbow hard into my ribs. I double over, more from the shock of it than the pain, and she gives a satisfied grunt.

Drake opens his arms wide for her and she rushes into them. They stay like that for a long time, rocking together, holding each other up, whispering words only they can hear.

Silvan enters next, his eyes narrowed and simmering with a savageness as he mutters something about Cyprien being the smartest of us all for staying in our realm.

The shoulder-length sheet of his strawberry-blond hair hangs limp over his face, and the shaved half of his head is fuzzy with regrowth. He merely grunts at me, then stalks to the table and takes a long swig of wine straight out of the jug.

He lets out a string of profanities, then hunts the bar for something stronger.

When Zinnia arrives, she simply gives me a slap on the back. “I’ve survived worse in your employ. It wasn’t exactly the dungeons of the Shadow Court when I was discovered spying.” She uses the derogatory term for the Starlight Court without flinching, then walks to the table to inspect the food. Most faeare too afraid to speak or even think about that court full of demons.

I can breathe easier now that all my people have arrived in one piece. Logic would dictate that we all collapse into bed; instead we will begin to plan our next move. Or try to.

We have no cards left to play.

Chapter 5

Keira

Ihardly sleep all night. Every time I doze off, vivid images flash beneath my eyelids and I gasp awake.

I see Aldrin sitting on the floor of that tiny cell with despair in his shadowed eyes, his hair in disarray, a sheen of sickly sweat coating his skin. His fear for Hawthorne crippled him, and I didn’t so much as offer him a single comfort. Not a word or touch.

I was too consumed by fury. By my own overwhelming sense of betrayal. I was selfish.All the ways I could have done better run through my mind.

I see Hawthorne, delirious and unable to speak or focus his eyes, because my family tortured that sweet man with deprivation. Bile rises in my throat.

Did they drug him with a hallucinogen as well? Poison his mind and body?

My mind races in circles, and I become angrier and angrier with myself and my failures that allowed this. With Aldrin, because we would not be here without his secrets. With the broken trust that has shattered my heart and made me question whether I know him at all.

Mostly, with my father and grandmother for this cruelty toward people they know I care for.

I will never forgive them.

Aldrin’s expression when I walked into that cell springs to mind. The hope, the longing, the sheer carnal lust. It raised similar feelings within me, and I was not ready for it.

Hot tears run down my face. How do we get past this? How do we have a future together when we need to cut through a forest of lies and betrayals and failures? How do we get beyond the fact that my family abused him and his people?

I am up and charging through the corridors with the first rays of sunlight, heading straight for my father’s personal library. I hardly notice the roaring fireplaces or the floor-to-ceiling bookshelves that line the walls, too intent on finding him in the connecting study.

It is disappointingly empty.

The clearing of a throat has me turning on my heel. My father sits on the reading couch I just stalked past in the middle of the small library, an ankle crossed over his knee, holding a cup of mulled wine. An open tome rests in his lap.

“Isn’t it a little early to be drinking?” I spit.

“Not when you haven’t slept yet.” He sets down his chalice, then closes the book and adds it to a pile, as though he is afraid I might throw something at him and damage it. “Before we get into another yelling match, I suggest we invite Aldrin and your grandmother into my study to clear the air.”

“I want my mother present too,” I say a little too quickly. “At this point, I don’t trust a word that comes out of your mouth, or my grandmother’s.” I shake my head. “Or Aldrin’s, for that matter. You can all talk circles around me, but not her.”

He spreads his arms. “Whatever you want, Keira. You may not believe me, but this has always been about you and your best interests.”

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