Page 59 of His Dark Delights
I turned over ideas, ranging from pretending to be sick or throwing myself out the window. Soren couldn’t expect me to attend a fae death if there was one already dead at the base of a tower.
His Majesty knew how much I hated his cruelty and the war. Ordering me to attend the execution was a calculated move. He wanted me to witness him in action as king, to see him under the light of his nickname—The Fairy Butcher.
And he wanted me to love him regardless of it. I couldn’t say that I didn’t understand the sentiment because I did. More than anything, I related to that craving, bone deep and soul weary. I knew that wanting in my heart.
“Now, let’s get you dressed, dearie. It’s warm for a spring day. I think a lovely gown of vibrant tulle or gossamer would serve well,” Mrs. Gibbons commented.
“No,” I blurted, catching her bewildered eyes in the mirror. “No, I’ll wear black today.”
Her face blanched. “Black. That’s only for funerals and periods of mourning.”
“I’m attending an execution, Mrs. Gibbons. Not a celebration. I’ll wear black or nothing at all, and I don’tthink His Majesty would appreciate the latter.”
She clicked her tongue but huffed remorsefully. “Aye, girl. Black it is.”
Left alone, I stared at my leftovers. A half-eaten biscuit soaked in the pool left from greasy sausage. Red grapes rolled as I pushed them around with the point of my knife—
An unknown force seized me. A whispered instinct curled around my thoughts, winding me up and guiding my hand. Before I realized it, I’d tucked the knife into my underthings, hidden from Mrs. Gibbons and the king. She returned with a heavy layer of black fabric draped in her arms. As she dressed me, she didn’t feel the sharp thing hidden flush with my skin, pressed flat against my ribs.
I didn’t know what I’d do with it. I loved Soren too much to raise a blade against him, but if the gods whispered a warning in my ear, I’d be a fool not to listen. And I already knew I was a naïve fool, but I wouldn’t go to a fairy execution unprotected.
Mrs. Gibbons tightened my dress, laced up my heeled boots, and styled my hair. Dressed, stomach quivering, and nerves brittle, I followed her to the main hall on shaky legs.
A dozen men and women waited in their finest garments alongside the Grand Duchess in a garishly opulent blue and gold gown. Rhydan paced around the guards, assessing their stances while stroking his chin. At the head stood Soren Carnifex, the Fairy Butcher, dressed in rich blue finery with a sheathed sword hanging from his hip.
His tempestuous gaze noted my appearance, only needing a split second to assess me from head to toe.The king appraised the black dress from the collar bracing the back of my neck, to the deep V down my chest, and the long sleeves cascading to the floor, then the silver flowers woven into the shoulders and hips.
He might as well have cracked open my ribs, spilled my guts, and rooted out all the thoughts and secrets within me. A grim half-smile tugged at his lips, yet it didn’t chase away the shadow of death in his eyes.
That was not the man I loved. The frustratingly commanding figure before me was a Butcher, an executioner, and nothing more.
“Lilly,” his eyes roamed over my dress again, “I have something for you. I didn’t leave on a good foot this morning and wanted to make up for it.”
“You could try,” I retorted.
His Majesty smiled again, earnestly. He reached into his pocket and pulled out something long and thin that reflected the chandelier light overhead.
A delicate, dark chain swung from his fingers. A teardrop moonstone; iridescent white struck through with varying shades of blue, hung at the end.
My breath caught. “What is that?”
The king tipped his head to the side. “It was the only thing I could afford for my mother on a soldier’s salary. I’d like you to have it now.”
“Ren,” I faltered, unsure of what else to say. Tears rose behind my eyes even when I thought I lacked an ounce of emotion for the day. There was a sea in my heart, and it threatened to sweep me under the waves.
He stepped in behind me and carefully clasped the necklace in place. “Ah, think nothing of it.” He kissed the spot where my neck and shoulder met. “There. Perfect.”
When he turned his back to me, I mindlessly reached up and traced the shape of the stone nestled in the hollow of my throat. The necklace fit perfectly, and a sense of warmth flowed through me from the stone under my finger.
His mother’s necklace.
Soren addressed the awaiting council and guards while I grappled through a trance. “We finished the pyre this morning, and the prisoner is ready. Let’s get this over with.”
I rode in a silent, tense carriage with Soren and Rhydan, through the palace gates and into the bustling city. The Grand Duchess and the council members all rode in a parade behind us. Somewhere ahead, the Prince of Fairy was bound in a cage of iron, awaiting his fate.
And my fate was tied with his. We were fae, and we’d struck a deal. I didn’t know what would happen if I failed at my end, but I didn’t want to find out. My resolve faltered with Ren’s gift sitting heavy at my throat like my very own noose.
Even if I uphold my end of the bargain, would I allow Lunaric to whisk me away to the fae wild? It would mean leaving Soren and my animals behind.
