“Are you sure this is what you want to do?” I hesitate a bit, speaking softly so the others don’t hear.
She blinks up at me with the same heartache in her eyes she carried on the balcony. “There’s nothing else I want more than to be with you.”
The mage next to us clears his throat, but he remains in place with his bowl. My breath catches, and all the emotions I’ve shoved deep inside me burst to the surface. The ones that insist I walk away and just follow my heart. To claim the girl in front of me, to be happy for once in my fucking miserable life.
That’s when I realize she doesn’t want the throne for herself, but to ensure I take it with her.
My throat thickens, and I don’t move. Not when I see everything she’s going through for me.
“Do it,” she whispers. “Please. Just cut me.”
Silence permeates the room, everyone seeming to wait with bated breath.
So much rides on this, so many people’s lives and futures.
“I hope you’re right.” I make a quick swipe over the meaty part of her palm, the blade biting into her flesh. Blood bubbles quickly along the cut. She tilts her hand to the side as red droplets roll down her palm and trickle into the bowl.
When a small puddle is collected, the mage says, “That’s enough.”
Guendolyn pulls back, and I hand her the handkerchief from my pocket. I tuck my blade away and return to my seat. My gut tightens, and with each passing moment, unease curls inside me. I feel like I’m about to watch the world’s biggest disaster, and I’m doing nothing to prevent it.
I glance over to Luther, who gives me a reassuring look like we are doing the right thing. How can he be so sure?
The mage retrieves a small black vial from his pocket, uncorks it, and starts pouring what looks like someone else’s blood in with Guendolyn’s. “This is King Tibout’s blood,” he announces.
Not a single word can be heard from the packed room. The silence is strangling me.
Once he has the vial closed and back in his pocket, he crouches by the cage.
The fairy inside sits against the back wall, silent, watching him with huge eyes. Opening the small latch at the side, he quickly slides the bowl into the cage before retracting his hand. A light blue energy stretches from his fingers to the bowl, vanishing as quickly as it came.
He lifts the cage and turns toward us. “This fairy has been bitten by a Bloodcursed, and with my magic, when it drinks the blood, it will react in one of two ways. It will either sit calmly, which will tell us the bloods are from the same bloodline. Or it will go ballistic, crashing into the walls to escape, as it’ll be momentarily poisoned by the mixed blood.”
Guendolyn stands nearby, pressing the handkerchief to her cut, and like the rest, her eyes are glued to the cage.
The fairy wanders over to the bowl, where it drops to its knees. In the silence of the room, the fairy lapping the blood is all that’s heard.
Moments later, it jerks its head up.
Guendolyn hugs herself, and I can’t move. I’m frozen in my seat, waiting, desperate to see this succeed. Please, let this work.
The sudden explosion of the fairy’s wings shooting outward on either side of her, green as moss and beating frantically, causes my heart to race and a terrible ache to sweep through my gut.
The fairy starts spinning mid-air inside the cage, faster and faster. She isn’t bouncing about crazily though, but remains in one spot, whirling around.
“What does that mean?” I demand.
The mage licks his dry lips and glances over to me. “I’ve never seen this before.”
A gasp falls from Guendolyn’s lips, and the whole room bursts into sound. It isn’t long before a few start demanding her death.
Chapter 19
Guendolyn
My heart beats frantically, and I try to curl in on myself, wanting to vanish right here and now. My gaze darts between the spinning fairy in the cage and the perplexed mage as the chants for my death escalate.
These fae don't even know me, yet they want me dead? How in the world are they meant to embrace me as their queen when they’re tossing me aside so hastily?
Power flares down my arms. It's getting to the point where I don't care about the throne; I don’t care about anything but trying to be with my princes. Maybe the answer lies in me taking all three with me to Earth and make a go of things there. But that’d be running away from my problems, wouldn’t it?
I approach Ramond and whisper, “Can we try again, please?”
He looks at me with sympathy and nods. Ramond, thankfully, is nothing like Jasion.
Luther and Deimos step forward, while I hold Ahren's gaze. They support me, but he must have doubts that I'm not telling the truth—otherwise, why does he hesitate?
I try to think if my mother said anything else about how to do this, anything we may have missed the first time around. I can’t stop trembling, fearful of what will come next.
Luther comes up to me and leans down to whisper in my ear. “Let Deimos and I take you from here safely.”
I lift my head and look into his eyes. “You believe me, don't you?”
“Yes, but it's not about us, little wolf. Right now you're in danger. Please,” he whispers, his tone shaken.
The sound of something clanging draws my attention to Ramond, who’s taking the small bowl out of the fairy's cage. The moment he does, the poor fairy collapses to the ground. It crawls over the side of the cage toward me and grabs the metal bars, staring at me with
