Total pages in book: 169
Estimated words: 156210 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 781(@200wpm)___ 625(@250wpm)___ 521(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 156210 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 781(@200wpm)___ 625(@250wpm)___ 521(@300wpm)
It’s agony. I’m burning on the inside.
I throw the person off me, and they fall to the marble floor with a yelp.
“Seize the imposter!” Anatole yells from behind the table, but there’s a pained rasp in his voice.
I pull at the silver collar blocking my access to shadowcraft, half-lucid with rage.
“This Sunspawn doesn’t deserve a Dark Companion!” Anatole continues, crawling under a bench with no dignity left. It’s the right choice, because I don’t need shadows to best him. I’ll rip him apart with my bare hands. “His promised should be put down as a warning to others!”
The bastard is shredding my heart, but my need to protect Luke is stronger than the desire for revenge, and I dash toward my lover, reaching for his bleeding hand. “He didn’t know! Luke Moor is innocent,” I roar, pulling him close as my gaze settles on Tristan’s pale, horrified features. He might hate me now, but at heart he’s always been fair, so I drag Luke closer to him, prompting the guards to raise their pikes and point them at me. “Tristan, please. He’s innocent.”
Tristan’s face is hard to read, but his mouth forms a tight line. “Hand him over then,” he says, extending his arm.
Luke stares into my eyes with terror. “No. I’m not leaving your side.” But if it’s because his love is true or because he’s frightened of what will happen to him away from me, I can’t know. Not that it matters. I would protect him either way.
Behind a wall of guards, Anatole limps to his feet, his face red and bruised yet filled with satisfaction. “How did you murder the rightful crown prince, traitor? Where is his body?”
It’s as though I’ve gone deaf, because the sudden silence feels unnatural. So many gazes slither over me with fear and disgust, and I feel so damn small, like a sick animal, its eyes crawling with maggots. Nobody wants to be seen close to me. Nobody wants me to exist. I’m everyone’s shame. I’m the fall of the court and the end of the Nightweed bloodline. The secret that was to never come out.
“I… I didn’t,” I mumble, watching Luke rather than Anatole, because if my life is over, I want him at least to know that I didn’t just go and murder my brother in cold blood, no matter how despicable he sometimes was.
“He should be executed on the spot!” Anatole yells, because of course this is his chance to begin the Goldweed reign.
Sabine steps to her brother’s side, pale as bone. “No! That is not what our laws state,” she says even though her voice trembles, and she won’t look at me. “Decisions of such magnitude cannot be made so hastily. He may no longer be the crown prince, but he is a prince, and deserves to be considered for the right of succession.”
Anatole spits on the floor, but since none of the guards move to put me down, he knows he’s lost momentum.
His brother appears out of nowhere, but while he speaks up, he’s keeping his distance from me. “And there is no need to kill his promised, as he might still make a fine Dark Companion to someone else, were Prince Ky—the prince’s twin to die.”
“Really? You’re feasting on my corpse already?” I ask as hope drains from my body, leaving behind only the husk of the man Luke fell in love with.
I’m no one now.
The embodiment of tales we tell children to scare them. The jealous one. The brother killer.
Me.
I should have left Luke in peace and never tainted him with my hopes and desires. If I’d never gone to get him, no one would have known he was bound to me. No one would have reached out for him. He would be safe.
“Are you deaf, Princekiller?” someone hisses from the back of the room. “Where’s the real prince?”
The mood shifts as fear seeps out of the elves, making room for suspicion and anger. I brace myself for anything, but I don’t expect the burger flying through the air to hit the side of my head. It leaves behind a splash of ketchup as it falls apart and drops to the floor.
I shudder with humiliation as the word murderer echoes ever louder.
“Will you be quiet?” Sabine roars, and Tristan whistles, as if woken up from a bad dream.
That does the trick, and Sabine clears her throat, raising her soft voice as much as she possibly can. “Rules of succession are clear. Every prince and princess can now get a Dark Companion if they wish to risk it, and the next Lord or Lordess will emerge through a trial tomorrow. The council of Law Keepers will decide if Prince Kyranis’s brother is eligible to take part.”
“He shouldn’t be eligible to live if you ask me. None of us knew of his existence,” Anatole rasps.