Page 7 of The Fallen Fae King

“Thorn…” Elatha snatches me harshly by the shoulder, and I startle. What in the Shadow God’s name is wrong with her? Her claws dig into my skin through my robe. “Your da…”

She points with a shaking finger at the throne.

Suddenly cold, I force myself to look.

Da is slumped in the throne. His head lolls forward. His eyes are closed.

Morrigan is cawing wildly, flapping her wings in distress.

“Da!” I don’t hesitate.

I throw myself down the Mound toward the throne. I open my wings and swoop into the sky toward Da.

Normally, flying fills me with the greatest sense of exhilaration and freedom.

Now, however, I am numb.

Is it too late? I didn’t say goodbye.

Why did I leave his side?

I’m a bloody terrible son.

A bloody terrible prince.

My ravens caw. Their wings touch mine, as they ride on the wind as my honor guard.

My pulse roars in my ears.

The harp music still drifts through the Winter Court.

I can’t hear it.

The warm sunshine still plays across my cheeks.

I can’t feel it.

I can’t feel anything.

Wings as fiery copper as the sun flap to my left, as Elatha keeps pace with me.

When I throw myself down on my knees in front of the throne, Elatha lands next to my shoulder. She is as close to a bodyguard as I have allowed myself to have, unless it’s Ciara, who is sprinting to catch up with us across the Mound.

Has Ma noticed yet?

My eyes are wet with tears.

I don’t dare to look away from Da to check.

When I grab his hand, it is still warm.

“Da…” Desperate, I press my hand to his sweaty forehead. The iron poisoning is now throttling his neck like dark vines. It’s the last stage of the illness. We all know what it looks like. “Wake up. Please.”

Elatha rests her hand on my shoulder. “I’ll fetch the Queen.”

A tear traces down my cheek at the grief in her voice.

She watched this happen to her parents.