Page 54 of Fearless

Edric

Edric’s arms are covered in blood.

That should not bother him. He is a king, after all. History itself is bathed in blood, and it is the kings who shed it. He should be indifferent, stony like his father raised him to be.

But this is not some necessary battle or worthless Ordinary. This is…

Voices muffle around him, blurring together into one frantic string of words.

The queen is dead.

Iris’s lifeless body lies on the bed. Blood stains once-white covers, mars once-warm skin.

Advisers bicker, Healers hover, Fatals stand solemnly beside him.

Edric hears none of it. There is a steady ringing in his ears, and for that, he is thankful.

His wife is dead. The life has been drained from her body by a mere infant, and there was nothing his Healers could do to save her. Now, there is nothing left but a still shell of the woman Edric loved.

Well, that isn’t entirely true.

There is a baby girl in his arms.

Her lungs are filled with shrill cries that slip from a small mouth. Again, the king does not mind such a distraction. He shuts bleary eyes, unable to lower them to his daughter below. Only further remnants of his lifeless love lie there.

This child shares her mother’s piercing gaze, or rather, stole it. Those eyes belong to Iris, not the infant who killed her.

When the ringing quiets in Edric’s ears, and the floor threatens to cave in beneath him, there is only one question the king cares to ask. The child is quickly shoved into his Silencer’s arms. “How much power?”

The three words are born of greed, of an unquenchable ache for strength. Because nothing is more important to Edric than power—not anymore.

The Silencer stutters.

“What is it, Damion?” the king pants.

All eyes fall to the three Fatals under Edric’s care. A crease of concentration forms between Damion’s brows, followed by a concerning flurry of blinks. He opens his mouth. Shuts it.

“Out with it!”

The king’s command rings about the chamber, cutting through even the thick stench of death. It is the anger and grief in his voice that pushes the Silencer to whisper what may be his own death sentence. Kings have a way of killing the messenger.

“She is powerless.”

CHAPTER 21Paedyn

I flinch at the tingling sensation in my temple.

Not because it’s painful to have a wound close beneath the hands of a Healer.

No, it’s the familiarity that hurts most.

The feel of my skin stitching back together only reminds me of when it was my father on the other end of that ability. Once, his nimble fingers were the ones to run over every ache and gash earned during my long training sessions. And after he had healed me, or I’d helped him heal another, we would share a butterscotch to celebrate another day survived.

Until he was gone. And now I’ve forgotten what the sweet tastes like.

I shift on the bed, my body tingling with each pass of the Healer’s swift hands. Attempting to distract myself from the familiar feel of it, I stare instead at the late afternoon light spilling through so many surrounding windows. Kai hadn’t left my bedroom until the early hours of the morning, leaving me to sleep most of the day away.

He had tried to convince me to see a Healer up until the moment I watched him slip out the door. But I was far too tired to entertainthe idea until this very moment, having stumbled out of the bath in a tremendous amount of pain. And with the ball looming only a handful of hours away, I force myself to endure the ache of being healed by unfamiliar hands.

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