CHAPTER THIRTY FIVE

BETH

I stared after him as he strode back the way we’d just come. I was relieved to not have him breathing down my neck. But maybe meeting the king by myself was worse. Whichever way I tended, Prys was right about one thing: I shouldn’t make the king wait.

The planting became more plentiful as I continued along the path. The sun was warm, bathing the gardens in a golden light. It would be easy to forget that none of this was real. That the bounty surrounding me was paid for with the lives of humans, both adults and children.

I didn’t know how far it was to the rose garden, but when I got there, it was easy to recognize. Before I reached the flowers, I could smell them. First, a subtle fruity sweetness, familiar to me from my dad’s garden. Then the scent grew heavier, more cloying, until it became a solid presence.

I kept walking until the roses formed a ten-foot wall on either side. The path was covered with dropped petals. My feet crushed them and released even more of the sickly sweet smell.

There was no sign of the king. Deeper and deeper I went, debating with myself whether calling his name would be considered disrespectful. There was so little I didn’t know about this realm.

Ahead of me, a brown blotch drew my attention. It looked like a boot, and above it was the outline of a shoulder. It had to be the king. Who else would be waiting for me in this place?

“Good morning,” I called out.

There was no answer. I waited until I was nearly upon the figure. “Hello? I’m looking for the king.”

I was so close, I could nearly touch the man before me. He stood in front of the roses, his arm raised to pluck a flower from the plant.

“Hello?” I said again.

Something was wrong. The way the king didn’t react, just stood there, made my stomach clench. Why wasn’t he moving?

I reached out a hand and shook his shoulder. Then I screamed.

My touch has dislodged him, and his body turned and crashed to the ground. His eyes were wide and his mouth gaping in a silent scream. Blood had run from his eye sockets and nostrils and was dried to his skin in rivulets of sticky paint. Everywhere the thorns had reached, his flesh was torn and cut.

I fell to my knees, and with trembling fingers, felt for a pulse. There was blood everywhere, and it got on my hands and my clothes. I didn’t care. He must have died in agony, stuck against the inch-long spines of the plant. How long had he waited for someone to save him?

Frantically, I looked around for help. Then I scrambled to my feet. I didn’t want to be left alone with the king’s corpse. My body began to shake as it sank in.

My grandfather was dead. Even though I had barely known him, the loss hit me hard. He was my only family. The only one who’d welcomed me.

And now my uncle’s path to the throne was clear, except for me in his way. He would try everything to get rid of me. In the depth of my soul, I knew that whatever precarious protection I’d gained since the king had claimed me as his long-lost granddaughter had just been annihilated. Maybe it was better if I ran and hid in the safety of the winding alleys of Emlyn?

But before I could move, footsteps crunched rapidly on the gravel. I looked in the direction of the noise, knowing I’d missed my chance to get away. If I ran now, they’d see and recognize me.

The first person around the corner was the prince. He stopped dead, his gaze falling on his father’s body. His face contorted with grief, but it took him just a split second too long to plaster on that expression.

I knew his father’s demise was no surprise to him.

He waited, pinning me with his cruel eyes, giving the men behind him time to catch up. Three guards moved around the corner, stopping when they saw the tableau in front of them.

I stared wide-eyed at the prince and then at each of the guards. All of them gaped at the stickiness on my hands and the stains on my pants where I’d kneeled next to the dead king.

Somebody else stepped around the corner, joining his comrades and the prince. Bleddyn’s gaze met mine, but instead of sympathy, he gave me an expressionless look. His face was immobile and his eyes so dead, I might as well have been looking at a statue.

Then his fingers moved, and he drew the beginnings of a travel rune. I didn’t know what that meant. Did he want me to flee?

The prince had followed my gaze, and with this raptor eyes, there was no way he couldn’t have noticed Bleddyn’s signal.

For a moment, his mask of the aggrieved son slipped, and his lips twitched up in a triumphant smirk. Then he got himself back under control and stuck out his hand dramatically, pointing at me.

“Arrest her. She killed the king.”

***

Thank you so much for following along with reading Fae Lost!

In the next serial, Beth is faced with the full evil of her nasty uncle. Will Bleddyn defy his lord and break his oath? Will Daeary reject Beth for her own good, making the ultimate sacrifice? And what about the blue-eyed mystery man in the pool?

If you missed any parts of the story or want to download the e-book, one-click FAE LOST now

And if you can’t wait for the next story, one-click FAE TORN here

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What do a former ghost, a half incubus, a confused human-cat hybrid, and a damaged orphan have in common?

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