Page 115 of Of Masks and Fury

Alfred stumbled backward, finally understanding this wasn’t random chaos. It was an extraction.

And I was the target.

Trew wore the same tunic and pants from yesterday, though they were decidedly dirtier. But his chin remained high, he’d thrust his shoulders back, and he moved with the confidence of a king walking into his own throne room.

Golden eyes locked on mine, and the world narrowed to just us.

“Guards!” Father’s voice cracked like a whip. “Kill them. Stop this madness.”

But the guards couldn’t move. Terrified nobles blocked their path, and they gaped at the firecats. A few attempted to rally the others, shouting orders, but Pherin blasted fire toward them, and they pivoted, racing beyond her reach.

Never breaking eye contact, Trew kept walking straight toward me.

“Holding a wedding without me, my love?” he asked as he neared, magic flickering in his eyes.

Lord Alfred roared with anger.

Pherin and Gavelle stopped, their big paws planted between chairs, smoke curling from their drawn back lips.

Trew reached the altar, and he pulled me to his side. Our fingers intertwined, and warmth flooded through me.

He sneered at the elder, whose face had gone pale as parchment.

“I object.” His gaze cut to my father, who’d backed away but still appeared ready to act if given a chance, his complexion florid.

“Allow me to introduce myself. I’m King Trewyn Valdris Nyx Syllavar of Syllavar Court.” Trew’s voice carried across the garden. “I’m here to claim my queen.”

Stunned silence rippled through the crowd. Those who hadn’t fled stood frozen, caught between terror of the firecats and shock at the revelation.

A royal wedding interrupted by a foreign king wasn’t just a scandal, it meant war.

“Seize him!” The rage finally broke through Father’s voice, raw and ugly and shaking. “He’s been inside my walls. Inside my court. Kill him. Kill them all.”

His guards hesitated. The firecats had positioned themselves strategically, and even the most loyal soldier apparently had limits to their courage.

Lady Pemberton fainted into her husband’s arms as musicians abandoned their instruments and fled. Nobles stared in fascination mixed with terror, probably already composing the letters they’d send to friends at other courts. This would provide gossip for months.

But the servants’ reactions warmed my heart. Mae grinned, tears streaming down her face. Kitchen staff had emerged from the castle to witness their princess’s rescue. A few looked like they might applaud.

“This is an act of war,” Lord Alfred sputtered.

Trew’s smile contained only sharp edges. “Good. I was hoping someone would make it official.” He turned back to me and stroked my cheek with the back of his knuckles. “Told you I’d come for you, Minx.”

Relief crashed through me so hard my knees went weak, mixing with the rage still burning in my veins. Love swelled in my chest until I thought I was going to burst from it.

I smiled up at him. “Wonderful timing, love.”

“Kill him,” Father’s scream tore through the garden. “He’s the rebel king. Kill him.”

Pherin’s lips pulled back, revealing teeth designed to tear off a head with one bite. She blasted fire toward the only guards looking eager to engage. Crying out, they pivoted and fled.

My father charged at Trew with his hands raised like claws.

Trew redirected the attack with a magically enhanced blow of his hand, sending my father stumbling backward.

When Lord Alfred took the moment to latch onto my arm, I gouged with my blade, slicing through his gilded robe and into his skin. I followed it up by poking the tip of his own sword against his throat.

He reeled away, his jaw gaping wide.