Page 1 of The Crowned Fae Queen
Prologue
Bear
“Fucking help her!” My roar is a lashing thing that tenses the entire room into a splintering thin glass.
The Chaplain’s little eyes shift this way and that as he places yet another useless wet cloth to her pale head. “She’s healing, my King. She’s healing. Just... give her time. I said she needs time.”
Fucking time.
My jaw clenches so hard, a cracking sound accompanies my pounding heartbeat in my ears.
“Get out.” I fling the bedroom door open so hard, the handle breaks.
Again.
It’s the second one I’ve broken in two days now.
Chaplain scuttles from the room with his robes sweeping around his fast-moving feet.
“I’ll continue to pray for her,” he yelps on his way past.
Fucking useless prayers.
I fling the door shut in his wake, and then…
Then it’s just her and me.
And the awful silence that hangs in the air around us where bantering and bickering used to fill the void.
A weak breath slips from my lips as I stare at her deep blue hair spread over the pillow and her all-too-white face. She’s still pretty.
Of course she’s still pretty. Her soft features are vacant now, though. Empty of laughter or anger. Reckless, beautiful fucking anger.
What I wouldn’t give to hear her tell me to go fuck myself right now.
Seconds pass, and in those few short moments, my knees give out and with a hard thump, I hit the ground. My hands hang at my sides, and I think about every fucking wrong I’ve ever committed in this life.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper.
Not to the Goddess. Not to my father who’s long dead.
Just to her.
“I’m so sorry I failed you, Syren.” Emotion cuts my voice in half, and I have to swallow the harsh feeling back.
Even as I crawl to her side. On my hands and knees, I crawl over the papers and broken lamps I’ve thrown to the floor in the past two days. Pain slices my palms, and all I think about is her—how she feels nothing.
My fingers skim her blankets as I lift to kneel at her bedside.
She’s healing. She’ll pull through. She’s strong.
All the things Miranda and Chaplain have promised me for days are a feeble whisper in my mind as I look at her peaceful face.
“My Queen,” I whisper, letting my fingers brush through the softest hair I’ve ever touched. “My Queen, I need you. I need you so fucking bad. I don’t know how to do this anymore. Not without you...” Once more, weakness shudders through my voice, and I can’t even stop it. “Syren, I need you. I need you to scream at me when my mind’s too far gone. I need you to ground me through all this hell. I need you to remind me life is good. I need—”
I need... I need...
My heart stops.
