Page 94

Stanton didn’t even attempt to respond. Instead, he fell to his knees and shook his head as though to clear it. “What was—”

“At last!” Greyson roared.

Shadow and mist flooded the circle, and Piro and Greyson’s combined spells wrapped around Stanton, who began screaming as he rose from the ground. Dark clouds of fog consolidated around Stanton’s writhing form until we could no longer see him and then with a loud pop, he disappeared, leaving all of us gaping at the empty circle.

“Dead?” I asked.

“Not yet.” Piro straightened to his full height and then strode across the arena to the former king’s crumpled form. Bending down, he began assessing him.

I turned to check on Rue only to see a group from my recent escort converge on her location and surround her in a defensive perimeter. I reached for her through our bond, and my mating mark warmed and tightened pleasantly, reassuring me she was well.

“A healer has been summoned,” Greyson informed me before he turned to signal some of the armed men converging on where we stood. “Stanton’s life very much depends on your sire’s state. If he killed him, then I promise you, Stanton will die after a very public trial in which all of his sordid affairs will be brought to light and properly addressed.” He frowned. “I believe your mate mentioned he murdered someone. Let us hope it is not more that we need to deal with, but I suspect we will not be so lucky.” He narrowed his gaze. “How is your mate?”

“Well, as far as I can tell from this distance.”

He nodded sharply. “Go see to her and bring her back to the manor immediately. I wish to have this marriage and coronation completed as quickly as possible before any more imposters appear.”

“And if more appear after the crowning?” I asked.

“Then they will be your problem and not mine.” Greyson turned away and marched off.

Taking advantage of the chaos and the fact that no one was paying any attention to me, I headed over to check on Rue. I found her in the center of a crowd of armed guards.

“No, I don’t need healing,” she stated emphatically as one of them thrust a potion at her. “I am merely tired, which is to be expected.”

“Perhaps you should humor them,” I suggested.

Rue turned and smiled, holding her hands out toward me. I stepped into her offered embrace and pulled her close, burying my face in the wildness of her magic-tossed hair and breathing deeply of her warm scent.

“Mela is safe?” she asked from the circle of my arms.

I nodded against the top of her head. “Yes. Nerio can be trusted.”

“I hoped so. That is why I asked him to rescue her.”

One guard moved in close. “I can send someone to check on her status,” he offered.

I nodded to him. “Please do.” Despite Rue’s outward calm, I knew she wouldn’t be at peace until she saw that Mela was safe for herself.

The guard bowed and then disappeared into the lingering crowd, the gathered court only just beginning to move toward the manor beyond the trees.

“Greyson mentioned something that we need to discuss before we return to the manor.” Glancing around, I locked eyes with several of the men. Then as though realizing that I required privacy, their leader started giving orders to his underlings, and they scattered into the crowd. The few fae who remained created a loose perimeter around us with their backs to us. Only the leader faced us, but he didn’t make eye contact with me again. Instead, he scanned the area behind the newly formed perimeter.

“Something that we can’t discuss with others in hearing?” Rue asked.

“Not so sensitive as that.” Stepping back so that I could see her face, I caught and held her hands between us, stroking the backs of them with my thumbs. “We spoke of marriage already but only in passing. You appeared amenable to joining your fate to mine in that way then.”

“It is a bit late to change my mind now,” she observed with a quirk to her mouth and an amused sparkle in her eye. “After all, you are marked with the evidence of our bond, and both of us experience the effects of our connection. I couldn’t choose another even if I wished.”

“My father did.”

“Kent, you are not your father.” Her suddenly serious tone added further power to the blunt statement. “If you were, I wouldn’t be willing to do what I suspect you are about to suggest.”

“But I could be—”

She shook her head sharply. “No, you couldn’t. It isn’t in your character.”

I swallowed back another protest and pushed through to my point. “Will you marry me?”