Page 64 of A Kingdom of Magic and Rain

Sorin withdrew the dagger he and Adrian had used earlier. I didn’t know how to wield a weapon, but in this moment, I was desperate enough to snatch the blade out of the king’s hand and thrust it in his throat to end this madness. Or I could use it to end my own life. Then, my father wouldn’t have to forfeit Emeraldia to save me. As if sensing my intent, Adrian moved closer to me, poised to stop me if I lashed out.

Sorin sliced open his palm and handed the blade to my father.

Do it! I silently implored my father. Use the dagger on the king!

I quickly realized that my silent plea was foolish as I cast my gaze around the throne room. The queen sat on her throne, waiting with a look of anticipation for what would happen next. Tarn wasn’t by her side, which was a relief. Still, my father and I were greatly outnumbered. Guards lined the opposite walls of the room, and, even though Killian, who stood nearby, had looked conflicted earlier, I had no doubt that he wouldn’t hesitate to mitigate the threat to his king.

My father looked down at the blade in his hand. Sorin watched him with feverish eyes. The maniacal gleam in them was of someone close to getting what they wanted. My father, on the other hand, looked as if he was on the brink of losing something—he was a man on the edge of a dark and bottomless abyss.

“Father, please…” I rasped, reaching out to clasp his left forearm.

“Emelin, I need your help,” he said in a grave voice. “Take the blade.” I froze, my fingers going numb from how hard they were digging into his arm. Understanding dawned on me then. He couldn’t use the blade himself because his arm was in a sling. He wasn’t… He wasn’t asking me to… “Please, Emelin. I will not lose you,” he said with resolve.

Did he truly think that Sorin would let us go? He didn’t know about the prophecy.

“He won’t release us, even if you give him what he wants. There is a prophecy that you will slay him,” I explained in a resigned voice. My father and I would not leave this place alive.

“Is it true?!” he demanded, glaring at Sorin.

The Fae king smirked. “It is. I can’t let you live, but you can still free your daughter.”

“What assurance do I have?”

“We are about to exchange blood. As Lady May performs the spell to bring down the wards, we can forge a blood oath at the same time. An oath that I will let the princess go.” He glanced at the Sorceress for confirmation, and she nodded before retrieving an old leather journal from the pocket in her cloak.

When nausea surged and I swayed on my feet, my limp fingers slipping off my father’s arm, Adrian placed a steadying hand on my back to hold me up.

“Do it,” my father ordered, handing me the dagger.

“No,” I said meekly, shaking my head.

With a growl of frustration, Sorin snatched the blade and dragged it across my father’s palm. It felt as though he dragged it across my heart. Blood roared in my ears as the Fae king wiped the dagger on his tunic and sheathed the blade. He clasped my father’s hand, his eyes blazing.

When my father went to pull away, Sorin said urgently and harshly, “I swear to release your daughter as soon as the wards are down.” My father hesitated for only a moment before his grip on Sorin’s hand tightened. “Augusta!” the Fae king barked an order.

After a second’s delay, the Sorceress opened the journal and began reading from it. As hauntingly beautiful words flowed from her lips, potent magic filled the throne room, until the air itself was vibrating with it.

No, no, no! I chanted in my head as Lady May performed the spell, her voice rising higher and higher in volume.

I was in an hourglass again, the sand rising higher and higher. The pressure on my chest increased the longer the Sorceress chanted, and by the time she was done, my lungs felt crushed. When she abruptly ended the spell, something inside me snapped, and I doubled over with a grunt of pain. The pressure on my chest alleviated, but I didn’t feel relief as emptiness filled my rib cage. Something was missing. I felt like I had lost something. In reality, I hadn’t—not yet. But soon I would lose my father and then my kingdom. My time in the hourglass had run out, and I didn’t feel empty anymore as sand covered me, filling my lungs and suffocating me.

“It’s done,” the Sorceress announced solemnly as she closed the journal and put it away.

“No!” I went to crumple to the ground, but Adrian held me up.

“Now release her!” my father demanded as he snatched his hand from Sorin’s and curled it into a fist.

The Fae king turned to Killian. “Tarn is on the border. Tell him to assemble the troops. Our time has come.” After the guard had given a curt nod and vanished into thin air, Sorin turned back to my father. “She is free to go.” He waved his hand. “You only prolonged her life for a few hours. No royal will survive the war.”

“You son of a bitch!” My father moved to strike Sorin, but the Fae king caught his fist in his hand, closing his fingers around it.

Adrian’s hold on me tightened as he attempted to steer me toward the exit. I thrashed in his arms, trying to get to my father.

“Leave her,” Sorin said, twisting my father’s arm. “She can watch,” he added with bone-chilling glee.

With a cry of agony, my father twisted his body to follow the twist of his arm, which eventually brought him to one knee.

“So weak,” Sorin spat, glaring down at him. “Your entire realm will perish because you couldn’t let your offspring die.”