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He nudges me. “She’ll be fine, right?”
I don’t answer.
“Right?” Panic sets into his voice, the kind that hints he might throw himself at the Bridge in hopes of finding a way to break through its wards to rescue her. The same as he tried with Dyphena when he almost dove into the River of Souls from the shore after her.
But Rosemarie isn’t Dyphena. History won’t repeat itself tonight. Not with our fated mate.
“Right.” I manage to keep the edge out of my voice, a fake so good that I almost believe what I’m saying. “She’ll be fine. She’ll win the trials, and the Bridge will choose her.”
There’s a whoosh as loud as a hundred wings unfurling, and the darkness cloaking the candidates parts, leaving only Rosemarie standing on the Bridge. My vision narrows to her, my heart hammers hard against my ribs, and the tightness in my skin stops threatening to turn me to forever stone in an instant.
She did it.
Silence descends over the crowd.
“Our next queen,” someone shouts. “Kneel before the queen.”
I drop to my knees, and a sigh rushes from me in the first full, deep breath I’ve managed to take since we stepped out of the tower.
“With the coronation, we will have a new queen,” an elder announces as if reminding us that while the Bridge has chosen, the ceremony isn’t yet complete.
Sudden movement has me spinning to find the source. I immediately scan the crowd for Cutter. If he went after her once, who’s to say he’ll stop now? But no, instead, it’s Truman rushing the Bridge—a place forbidden unless expressly granted permission by the reigning queen. Rosemarie hasn’t been crowned yet which means…I search the Royal Tower, looking for the woman who replaced Dyphena on that awful coronation night a century ago.
She walks from the doorway toward the Bridge, not faltering in her steps despite her self-induced blindness.
Why would she tell Truman to go to Rosemarie? Unless something’s wrong. Unless he’s trying to help. Or unless…a truly terrible thought slams into me, and fear writhes along my wings in a ripple that rattles me to my bones.
Rosemarie grabs her head and screams as though she’s in agony.
“What’s happening?” Jace demands, rushing forward.
I’m a heartbeat behind him, my wings whipping outward as we fly toward the Bridge.
Truman holds a dagger against the base of Rosemarie’s rib cage, pushing upward. The blind queen steps onto the Bridge.
I freeze, catching Jace by the arm. “Don’t,” I warn.
Jace scowls. “If he hurts our mate?—“
“Then we end him, but we can’t make it past the Bridge’s wards, and you won’t reach her before that blade pierces her heart.” I raise my voice. “You don’t want to do this, Truman.”
Rosemarie meets my gaze, her eyes burning with rage and hurt. She trembles in his grip, and he tightens his hold. All those years of him visiting us during our stone sentence, all this time when he claimed to be our ally, and now he pulls this? I’ll tear his limbs off to match his missing wings.
Truman shakes his head. “If she’d simply listened to the recordings I made for her, we could’ve done this the easy way.”
Fuck, I’d almost handed him access to her. “The dark magic that made Dyphena jump—that was you.”
Grumbling goes up around us at my accusation, but I don’t let it distract me from Truman or his hold on my mate. “Why go after Dyphena or Rosemarie? They’re innocents in this.”
“There are no innocents among the humans,” Truman says. “Not your Rosemarie.” He glares at Jace. “Not your Dyphena. And not the one who cost me my wings. Of course, if your father had just overlooked one mortal’s death, he wouldn’t have passed the sentence, and I would still have my wings.”
“Our father?” I look to Jace who shakes his head. “What does he have to do with this?”
“Everything,” Truman says. “The coward went to his eternal sleep rather than stick around to watch me ruin his golden sons who would be kings. That prophecy won’t come true as long as I’m around.”
The oldest of our elders steps forward. “Truman, you raped and murdered a human girl after being forbidden to even speak to her. That is why you lost your wings. Release the future queen.”
Rosemarie struggles to get away, but she can’t compete with a gargoyle’s strength. “He started the rumor about the demon bargain,” she says. “He wanted to force me out of the trials.” Truman tightens his hold on her, and her face contorts into a grimace of pain. “Get out of my head,” she says, her voice shaking.
