Page 8 of The Fallen Fae King

“Da…” I whisper again.

Ciara pats my shoulder.

Then I listen to my friends walk away.

I’m alone.

Morrigan’s harsh calls come out as strained croaks. Her wings droop, while her sharp eyes dart side to side unsettled. Then she turns her head and rubs her beak against Da’s cheek like she’s trying to rouse him.

“It’s okay, Morrigan.” My throat is tight. “Come to me, aye?”

She pecks at Da’s crown.

To my surprise, Da’s eyes open.

“Daire,” he murmurs through cracked lips, “you’re here.”

I grab his hands between mine, pressing them to my chest. “I’m here. I’ll get Ma and⁠—”

“Don’t go.” Da holds onto my hand with surprising strength. “Your ma and I have already said our goodbyes. But this is your Crowning Celebration, and although no king wants to pass on his crown on the day his son becomes heir, I have been holding on for weeks to get you to this day. I am happy.”

“Don’t say that…”

“I am.” Da struggles to sit straighter, attempting to mask his agony. “Now, I must pass on two heirlooms from the House of Thorn. Take the ring from my finger and put it on your own.”

I don’t want to. But I bite back the words.

I have spent my life admiring this ancient ring, which has been passed down they say from the time the fae created the shadows.

Yet it makes me shudder now to pull it from Da’s finger.

I try to slip it onto my own finger, but it’s too large and slides off.

“It doesn’t fit me.” I shake. “Take it back.”

“Try your thumb,” Da says, gently. Reluctantly, I do. “This ring is sacred like the Mound is. Have the elders taught you about the magic of the Rebirth Ring?”

“It’s a myth.” I stroke over the cold emeralds.

“Is it? This ring holds the spirits of our people who are unjustly slain. They can be born again with the blood of the guilty. Do you understand what I am telling you?”

“That sounds like the dreams that the Seelie spin.” I don’t want to talk about make-believe stories, when my da is dying.

Da struggles to reach up and grasp his crown. “More like nightmares. The royal House of Draca are the only ones who can atone for this.”

Da’s breath becomes more labored, as he pulls off his crown. “Kneel up. Let’s make this official.”

“Don’t.” Tears stream down my cheeks. “Please, Da.”

Da’s hands are shaking with the effort of holding up the crown as he places it on my head; it feels so much bloody heavier than the blossom crown did. “I crown you the new King of the Shadow Fae.”

“How can I be a king?” I whisper. “I don’t know how to rule. I can’t even fight.”

“You have your ma to guide you. You can learn. And you have a duty now to protect your people above anything else. Do you swear?”

I nod, fervently. “I swear to protect the Unseelie.”

Da cups my cheek. “This isn’t fair, but you’re ready, Thorn. I wish that I didn’t have to ask this of you. But I do. Be brave.”