Page 253 of The Edge of Darkness

It was Skadi.

She smiled, cruel and unyielding. “I see you got the message.”

I glanced through the surrounding trees. There was no sign of anyone else nearby, but I did not trust that the goddess was alone. “Where is the king?”

“He’s here. Waiting for his savior to come.”

“How did you know I would come?”

“I wagered that you were the heroic type. But heroism is a weakness. Lyceius has his weaknesses too. I had to teach him a thing or two about how to win wars and claim power.”

“And yet you never won your own war, not really. You had to follow your sister here just to get what was stolen from you.”

The goddess’s lip pulled back in sneer. “Careful. My temper has a short fuse. You’re lucky Lyceius wants you alive or else I’d cut you down without a second thought.”

“Lucky,” I agreed. Light pulsed in my veins at the threat. She could try to cut me down, but she had no idea what she was messing with.

“Lyceius thought you needed a bit more prompting to make the right decision. I’m here to test that theory.”

“No,” another female voice echoed through the forest. Matronly—strong and commanding, yet as smooth as an undisturbed lake.

I turned to see the queen stepping forth from the trees, her gleaming crown upon her head. Behind her, two winged figures emerged, as if from thin air. One of them I did not recognize, but the other . . .

Weston.

His eyes were blazing red, as fierce as a fire. And his wings . . . they were as black as night. The other Dionach, tall and lean, with auburn hair that cascaded down his chest, matched Weston’s intensity. Twin blades were sheathed at his hips, and his tawny wings were tucked tightly behind him.

But why was the queen here? Had she truly summoned me in the first place? Was she involved in . . . whatever this was?

Skadi smirked, noticing the crown Corinne wore. “You must be the queen, I presume?”

Corinne maintained her composure as she neared, appearing completely unthreatened by who stood before her. “And you must be Skadi.”

“In the flesh.” The goddess’s eyes danced with wicked delight. “While your arrival is unexpected, you’re just in time.” She waved a hand, and a few feet away from her, a glamour retracted, revealing Killian and the king. “I was just about to see if Auren’s stubbornness would break for the sake of another’s life.”

The queen halted at the sight of her husband on his knees before Killian, his hands bound in chains behind his back.

The king wore no crown. His hair was disheveled, looking more gray than brown in the dim light. Gone was the strength in his stature and the will in his eyes. In its place, was a look of defeat. He stared at me like he was finally putting all the pieces of a puzzle together and seeing the bigger picture. Still, there was no hope in his expression. He seemed resigned to whatever fate was coming his way.

Judging by the strained look of shock on Corinne’s face, I knew she was not involved in whatever this was. She must have foreseen this encounter. Or someone had tipped her off.

Killian looked down at the king who knelt before him. A smug smirk tugged at his lips as he jerked on the chains.

The king wobbled.

“It’s a good thing you failed to kill me when you had the chance, Auren. If you had succeeded, I would have missed this little opportunity to show the king just how personal the betrayal was.”

A quick glance down at Killian’s tunic showed the dried blood, and the slit in the fabric where I’d stabbed him. But there was no hint of any lingering effects from the iron. He appeared to have recovered his strength, just as Niall had, once the iron spikes had been pulled from his body. The coloring had even returned to his skin. It was as if I’d never wounded him.

My power simmered inside me the longer I stared at him. “What betrayal? The only person who was betrayed was the king,” I said.

“Exactly.” Killian slowly lifted his dark gaze to me. “I’m honestly surprised you didn’t catch on. Then again, you were quite drunk when I nearly gave myself away.”

Drunk? When had I been⁠—

Wait . . .

The night that he’d served me elderberry liqueur . . . I’d sat on his lap and . . . he’d winced . . . As if he’d been wounded there in the past . . .