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A royal woman, neither wholly Fae-born nor human?
There were no royal women at the court. The last one had been the Lost Princess Arwen, Beth’s mother, Prince Prys’s twin sister. And now there was Beth, daughter of both Gwerin and the human realm.
Was it not strange that the day after King Rhys announced Beth as his successor to the assembled court, he should have died in the rose garden? I had my doubts that a small chit of a girl like Beth could have committed a murder that heinous.
But the sight of her with the body and Prys’s quick accusation had shocked me into believing him as I was trained to do.
And yet, was it not possible that Prys, who in that moment had rid himself of his competitor and regained his throne, had planned all of it?
Bile rose in my throat at the thought of my prince plotting against his own people. But it made a sick sort of sense. Create chaos, then present himself as the only one able to restore order. He would seize absolute control, crushing any who opposed him. Had I not witnessed him stabbing his own wet nurse through the heart?
I shoved away from the table, nausea twisting my stomach. All this time, I had been blind. Prys had not valued my service—only my unquestioning loyalty. He had used me to further his ambitions, manipulating me as easily as he manipulated the truth.
And yet my hands were bound. I could not free Beth from the enchantments of the royal dungeons. If I tried, I would kill both of us as surely as slitting her throat and mine.
No. I would bide my time and save her when the opportunity arose. I prayed to the Goddess that Beth would survive the jail until Prys saw fit to move her.
Then I would be ready to pounce.
Chapter four
BETH
HowwasIstillalive? Last night, I’d wanted to close my eyes and relax into the deadly embrace of the frost. I’d sunk into that dreamy state between sleep and wakefulness. It would have been so easy to surrender and slip away.
But every time I was ready to go, my stomach twisted with pain, and I was wide awake again. My feet were so numb, I couldn’t feel my toes, even though I curled them under me.
The guards had placed a slice of dry bread and a mug of some hot liquid inside the door while I drifted in and out of consciousness. I’d dreamed Bleddyn had come to see me, but of course, that had been wishful thinking.
When I picked up the mug, it warmed my hands. The spiced tea went down smoothly, creating a ball of heat in my stomach. They’d also left a pair of worn shoes and a blanket. It stank of vomit, but it was better than just the thin prison shift I was wearing.
Hours slipped by as I huddled in the farthest corner, shivering with cold and fear. My thoughts were sluggish, and my gaze skittered past a shriveled and lifeless flower on the ground. Where it had come from? Had someone talked to me? The memory seemed so far away and not worth expending my energy on.
But when heavy footsteps echoed along the corridor and stopped outside the cell, my head shot up in alarm. Apparently, I could still feel fear. These could be my executioners, about to haul me out of here and—
I swallowed a sob, then struggled to my feet. If this was it, I’d face it head on.
The door groaned open, and the giant bodies of the Fae guards blocked the torch light, shining in through the opening. They stopped, watching me ball my hands into fists.
They seemed surprised before bursting into laughter. One Fae stepped inside, still chuckling, although his expression turned to hatred as he watched me.
“If I had no other orders, I would cut you down right now. How could King Rhys fall prey to one like you unless you weakened him through magic, witch?”
He turned and gave a signal. Two guards dragged a man into the cell. Disheveled and dirty, he was nearly as large as the Fae holding him.
“Work your magic on this one,” the first Fae said.
The guards pushed the prisoner so hard, he flew through the cell and crashed to the ground.
When the soldiers stepped out of the cell, the torchlight showed bruises and wounds all over the man’s body, evidence of relentless beatings. He turned his head and growled at his abusers like a menacing animal.
Before they shut the door, the third of the guards spat on the ground. “Have fun with the harlot. She could use some company before she is executed. She might even appreciate your diseased cock.”
“Fuck off,” the man snarled, baring his teeth. The guards’ laughter echoed as the door slammed shut, leaving me alone with him in near darkness.
Fear clawed at my insides. Bleddyn’s warnings about the Fae’s cruelty to women ran through my mind. What would this guy do to me? I moved away as far as possible, ignoring the rotting rat cadavers piled up against the wall.
My voice shook and barely rose above a whisper. “Stay away from me.”
