Page 11 of The Fallen Fae King

I am sobbing, as I feel my friends close around me. My ravens circle above me.

I risk a single glance over my shoulder.

Ma is staring glassily out at her burning court. She is still clutching Da’s hand.

King Branna and Queen Aine, legendary soulmates. People wrote songs and stories about their love.

I hoped that one day…

Tarquin heads straight for my parents. Then he releases a stream of fire, and my parents are turned to ash.

Grief makes me double over.

How is this pain survivable? Why do I have to wear this heavy crown and protect my people, when I want to become ash too?

Yet the ring on my thumb heats, scorching my skin.

I stare down at it in shock.

I jolt, sucking in a breath at the intense sensation that burrows deep into my magic.

So many spirits…ghosts…unjustly killed on this holy ground by the dragons are being pulled into the bronze ring.

I can sense their screams for justice being drawn in by the primal magic.

I glance over the baby’s head at the ring in horror.

How many souls am I now responsible for?

The crown on my head weighs down my neck.

Somehow, I must find a way to rescue the kids. Then somehow, we must survive as outlaws, hunted by the dragons, since my kingdom has fallen.

Yet now, I am responsible for something far greater.

“I swear by the Shadow Devils,” I mutter, as I am covered in the ash and feathers of the dead, “that I will return to reclaim my Winter Court. Then I will use the enemy blood of the House of Draca to bring the spirits back to life.”

CHAPTER TWO

Diamond Ballroom, Blood Kingdom

Daire

Eight years later…

On this Night of the Shades, I’m about to have my throat slit with the legendary dagger of the Shadow Vampire Queen, KalaKant, whom I killed. The druids would have called it the turning of the wheel.

But I call it fate’s bloody vicious joke.

I always thought that it would be the dragons who killed me.

My mistake.

I can’t see well through my blurred vision. I can feel the iron, however, burning my throat from the blade.

My muscles ache from being stretched across the silver altar with my arms and wings shackled down by chains.

My lips scream in agony from being gagged with an iron bit, which is searing them.