Page 5 of A Crown So Cursed
“Oh, I do!” I laugh without humor. “Lest you forget, during Aengus’ final days, all the same voices were crooning the same song. And now, it is my turn.”
“It could be they simply want a bride to soften your temper?”
I say nothing, and he continues.
“There is little reassuring about your demeanor of late. You’ve sat on that throne for too long without a mate. If it is Gwendolyn you covet, remedy this. Or resign yourself to doing as they ask.”
Every word of my reply sits on a knife’s edge. “I said I would not return tothat place.” My voice is a rumble of thunder. “I will not, even for her.”
“You would if she had but asked?”
“But she did not,” I say, and the Púca sighs, his whiskers twitching loudly.
“Well, then…you have an answer.”
I toss him a glare. “I did not ask you a question.”
“You may not avoid the Fates, Málik. Give the wretches the queen they long for, and be done. You know I speak true. The longer you delay, the more precarious your position.”
In this realm, there are many ways to kill a king even without resorting to slitting his throat as he sleeps…again, I know he speaks true. My wards are only as good as the guards I have employed, and their loyalties are sure to be tested.
The Púca’s words hang between us.
“The Shadow Court will see you dead if you defy them any longer. If not for your sake, for the sake of this realm, choose a bride and be done,” he argues.
I turn my gaze from Elric, meeting his daughter’s violet eyes. She waves excitedly, encouraging me to join the revelry, and I offer a nod devoid of sincerity.
Gods know, now is as good a time as any.
For all her father’s posturing, without a proper heir, it is he himself who would displace me.
And so we begin…
Sheis not here.
Sheis not coming.
And there is nothing anyone can do about it.
Not even me…
ChapterTwo
Just as predicted, a portal appeared along the horizon, its rim all but lost in the blush of sunlight, so that for a moment, it seemed nothing more than a trick of the clouds—a mere shimmer, pale and fleeting.
Crossing her arms against the cool, brisk wind, Gwendolyn inhaled a salt-laden breath, anticipation tickling at her belly like a thousandpiskiewings.
How desperately she longed to see him!
To reach out.
Touch him.
Trace the sharp contours of his face…
Throughout these twenty-two years, she had met no one who could make her feel the way he did. No one who could set her blood afire. No one consumed her thoughts as completely as did Málik from the moment their eyes met across the courtyard in Trevena.
Remembering, she closed her eyes…
