Page 4 of To Wake a Kingdom

Naomi lay closest to the door, her body sprawled on the black and silver rug that ran the length of the narrow room. The dark stone walls were punctuated with wide arched windows, brambles obscuring the view outside.

Doing what I could to cover her, I pulled the front of her diaphanous dress closed, trying to wrap it so it wouldn’t pop open. When I was done, I grabbed her by the arms and dragged her toward the hall. Yellow wings scraped the floor, and I winced at the sound. Shredded, their delicate membranes had been ripped from their frames, blood spattering them with crimson tattoos.

Naomi had been beautiful, as all Fae were. Thick copper curls were matted to her blood-soaked skull. Deep and red and gaping, her pale, creamy throat had been slashed almost to her spine.

What would possess a man to do this?

“I’m so sorry,” I whispered. “You deserved a better end than this, and you deserve a better burial, too. I’m sorry this is the best I can give you.”

With the back of my hand, I scrubbed more tears from my cheeks and then tugged on Naomi’s arms, dragging her further. Though she was slight, we lurched, inch by laborious inch. This was going to take forever.

My stomach growled. Whatever enchantment had kept my body suspended for so many years—requiring neither food nor water—had worn off. The sensation of nausea and hunger collided, threatening to dredge up the lining of my stomach yet again.

But I forgot my inconvenient human needs when a groan echoed from the far side of the room. One of the Fae rolled over, and I gasped, dropping Naomi’s arms.

“Are you okay?” I called, running across the room and dropping to my knees.

A shallow wound on the Fae’s ribs oozed red, as did a cut on her forehead. Blood coated both the side of her face and the expanse of her minty green, shimmering dress. They were superficial wounds, and I breathed a sigh of relief. If just one Fae had survived, perhaps everything wasn’t lost.

Kianna raised a slender brown arm, placing a hand against her forehead. Her warm, dark skin glistened in the weak sunlight filtering into the room.

“I think so.” Her shaky voice was high and musical. “What happened?”

I helped her sit up, and her eyes grew wide as she took me in.

“Princess Thorne, what happened to you? Is that your blood? Are you hurt?” Her eyes then expanded even further into dark orbs of surprise. “You’re awake? The curse! It’s broken!” Light beamed from her expression, but a glance at my face made it dim as quickly as it had come.

“I’m fine. This isn’t my blood.”

Kianna then let out a soft cry as she surveyed the room, a sob pressing from her throat. “What happened? My sisters. What happened to my sisters?”

I recounted the tale of the man in the red coat. “I’m awake, but the rest of the castle is asleep.”

Kianna pushed out her bottom lip, eyes shifting to the side. “Then my spell didn’t work.”

She had been the twelfth Fae. The one to counteract the curse her sister Mare had placed on me—instead of enslavement, an eternal sleep. I’d never figured out why that was meant to be better.

“We need to get out of here.” She clutched my arm, nails digging into my skin. “That man may come back.”

“I killed him.” My words were matter-of-fact. They had run through my head on a loop, over and over, as I attempted to distance myself from what I’d done.I killed a man.But as Kianna bore witness to my sin, they became part of me, etched in indelible ink.

A killer. Now and forever.

He’d deserved it and, given the chance, I’d do it again. I had never taken a human life, and I wanted to cry and vomit all at the same time, but I had work to do.

“You killed him? How?” Kianna asked.

“With the dagger Andrick gave me.” I shrugged as Kianna squeezed my arm again. “It was still attached to my leg.”Scanning the beautiful Fae from head to toe, I asked, “Did he…use you?”

Kianna’s face went blank for several long moments. “I don’t think so,” she finally replied.

It was only a sliver of hope, but I allowed it to prick my skin and slide under the surface. Slivers were all I had.

With her hand still on my arm, Kianna spoke as if to herself. “This was not how it was supposed to work.”

“How was it supposed to work?”

She turned, her mouth open, as though she’d forgotten I was there.

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