Droga let out a dark chuckle.You think you have everything figured out, Worldweaver. But even you won’t be able to resist the darkness of the Hidden King. One who has already promised his blood to me.
I didn’t understand what he was talking about.
“Stop speaking in riddles!” Ethan shouted. “The Hidden King is dead!”
Don’t play games with me, boy. Elijah Zlodia was no dark master. It isyouwho are the leader of the Unseelie, Droga replied.
“What? No, I’m not!” Ethan protested.
Then Ethan’s eyes flashed violet, and remained that way. A twisting feeling knotted up my insides as I watched Ethan withdraw his sword from its sheath, and approach me.
He took a wide swing in my direction. I batted it off, though the blow made me stumble backward and nearly off my feet.
“What are you doing?” I gasped.
“I’m sorry,onawilke! I can’t stop myself!” Ethan wailed.
Droga emitted a chilling laugh.Mine to control. You will die this day, Worldweaver, at your mate’s own hand. There is no escaping it.
I struggled to comprehend what was going on. A faint memory broke into my mind… of Ethan offering his blood to Droga at the stone altar, in the catacombs where the Black Claw had been hiding, in order to gain entry to the cult. The altar had glowed amethyst once his blood had touched it. The same color his eyes were gleaming now.
Lord Lucien’s words brought only more confirmation. “A Hidden King can only come from the line of the first original Unseelie kings, which originated hundreds of years ago. This must be a bloodline that Ethan and Elijah both share…an Unseelie king never makes their identity known, for the safety of his court and his people… if they are to betrueleaders of the Unseelie, these Hidden Kings must remain out of sight, and unproclaimed. That’s how the royal magic passes down, from one Unseelie monarch to another.”
Wretched grief cleaved me through as the love of my life approached me with a sword. I had no choice but to face the grave truth.
Ethan was the Hidden King. Healwayshad been. And as Odette had prophesied, me saving Ethan’s life from the leshane had brought my killer right to me. My mate had just agreed to another bad contract, with the dark god holding the terms. By refusing Droga’s accusation that he was the Hidden King, Ethan had confirmed that hewas— because a Hidden King always had to deny that they were one. With his denial of the name, he’d consented tobeingthe Hidden King himself.
The dark god had tricked Ethan into confirming he was the ruler of the Unseelie by getting him to verbally say that he wasn’t. And now, with the offering of blood, alongside his declination of the title, Ethan was Droga’s to control.
My husband struck again. I batted away his sword with a clash of my own, and put up a hand to blast Ethan back. He rolled backward, only to spring back up again. I threw a battle orb, but it was a half-hearted attempt. It sailed by his head as his sword struck mine again. I attempted to use a binding spell on him, but as it settled around his form, the spell melted away. Droga’s wrath protected Ethan, as Milonna’s grace protected me.
A lump grew thick in my throat. I couldn’t cast anything worthwhile to defend myself, because it would kill Ethan. Droga had complete control over him. Though he wanted to stop, he couldn’t. The offering of his blood upon the stone altar, and the bad contract he’d just made, had given Droga utter power over my husband.
See if you can put me away now! Droga cried.Choose, Worldweaver! Your own life, or the life of your mate!
“Emma, kill me,” Ethan pleaded as we fought. His blows made my arms quiver and ache. In his tone was desperation. “Take my life so you may live.”
Tears fell as he struggled to resist Droga’s hold, and though his eyes gleamed amethyst, I could tell within them was nothing but suffering and woe. Ethan longed to die, if it meant saving me.
“I won’t hurt you!” I promised. If I could seal Droga away inside his tomb, his control over Ethan would end. We might get out of this alive. I put an exploding shield between us, and it blew Ethan back a few feet, giving me some time. I fished my left hand in my bag and wrenched out the silver crown, taking a breath to recite the spell.
“Droga, Black Stag of Wrath,
On fae souls you have dined—”
I grunted and had to stop the incantation as Ethan came charging at me. He rammed his shoulder into mine, and I scrambled away from him. His sword smashed into the dirt as I rolled out of the way, choking out the words.
“The time for suffering is over now,
With my magic thus I bind—”
I scrambled to grab my sword and get back on my feet just before Ethan’s sword cut off my head. I stopped his blade mid-swing, though my arm shook. I continued to speak as I batted Ethan off, dancing around him and fainting blows.
“Return to your stone prison,
This silver crown is your jailer
For I have come to offer it,
