Page 91 of Destined for the Fae King

Maybe that’s why I can help tearing my attention from Lysandir to glance at the floor. To understand why Katherine screams, why Gabriella invokes God, why Grace’s hand in mine nearly crushes it, or why Zoe gags and turns away.

The strange assortment of things doesn’t register at first. Brown and curled. Sharp and twisting. Small and pointed. They are bits and pieces of a puzzle my mind cannot piece together.

Until it does. All at once.

Horns. Antlers. Bits of fur. Teeth. Shards of bone.

Trophies from the dead. From the Unseelie the king has slaughtered in our name. And there are dozens of them. Hundreds.

“My son,” Elaine gasps. “What have you done?”

Chapter 36

Alot of whathappened after the king dumped the gruesome contents of his bag all over the floor is a blur. I can’t clearly recall what was said or done. Someone fainted—Adeline, I think. I remember being jostled as someone else knocked into me. I found Lysandir standing near his brother, deep sorrow and regret etched into his features. All his focus was glued to me, pleading. Then the guards were there, ushering us away.

I ended up back in my room with Fia offering things she thought might help—dinner in my room, tea, a bath, a sleeping potion. None of those would help me. There was only one thing I needed, and it was far out of reach until I could convince her to leave me be and let me rest.

It took a while. Worse was waiting a few minutes after she left to make sure she didn’t come back and that I was truly alone.

Finally, I push open the back door an inch or so, just enough to peek out. No one lingers in the courtyard that I can see, though much of it is blocked by foliage.

It’s quiet out, the other women tucked safely in their rooms.

I quickly slip out the door, close it behind me, and make my way along the cobbled path. My flats are quiet on the stonework, andonly the gentle sounds of night birds and bugs fill the air. Such a contrast to the outcry that erupted upon the king’s return.

Once I reach the center, I pause, trying to remember which color stone marked the path to Lysandir’s room. But every moment I wait just makes me second-guess my choices and has my pulse racing faster at the fear of getting caught, so I pick one and head down it. Itfeelsright.

I turn the corner around a particularly thick tree and draw up short. Lysandir has just closed the door behind him and turns to me. Armor still graces his form, and when he spies me along the path, he goes absolutely still almost like he’s spied a ghost.

“Mira.” The harsh whisper of my name barely reaches my ears, but that’s all it takes, all I need. I race across the last few feet of the cobblestones and nearly throw myself into his arms when Lysandir stops me with an upturned palm and outstretched hand.

“Not here. Not like this.” He gestures to himself, to the blood I’d tried so hard to forget about.

I nod and quickly follow him inside.

“You were coming to see me,” I say once we’re secured in his room.

“I was,” he admits.

“Without even stopping to change.”

A hint of color races to his cheeks, and he rubs the back of his neck. “I should have. But I wasn’t thinking. I needed to see you, to know that you were okay.”

This man. Less than a minute, and he has me wanting to collapse into a puddle of warm, melty feelings. “You just saw me when you returned.”

“Yes.” He swallows, gaze darting. “But after what you saw, what you all saw… Not at all injuries are physical.”

No, they are not. “Itwas…”

Disgusting. Horrific. Terrible.

“Upsetting,” I say, finally settling on a response. “But I will be okay. You’re here. You’re safe. The worst of my fears didn’t come true.”

A fragile smile lifts the corner of his mouth. “You worried about me?”

“Of course.” I shove his shoulder, an area untouched by obvious filth.

He glances at that spot then back at me, his gaze suddenly hot and hungry. “I worried about you too,” he says. “Every day. Every spare minute.”

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