Page 72 of A Foretale of Silver Fables
Only when bleeding darkness fights darkness,
May light finally prevail.
Now that I am revealed to be therealForetold One, the prophecy’s meaning changes. Shouldn’t we fight her together, with our powers combined?
“There was no body, kitty cat, but it’s to be expected, with the ferocity of your dark shadows and all. She’s dead, Aimee. We are forever in your debt. That’s why he’s letting you go. He recognizes the fact that if you had been our enemy, you wouldn’t have saved us all.” Blaise clasps my hands before drawing me near and kissing my forehead. “I truly am sorry, pretty princess,” he whispers against my hairline. “I did my best to persuade him to talk to you at least. To hear you out one last time. You know I’ve been rooting for the two of you since the very beginning.”
A lone tear escapes, and he presses his thumb softly under my eye, wiping it away. “He’s immovable in his grief. A fucking stubborn asshole, if you ask me. Who knows, though…maybe in a few hundred years, when the dust of your betrayal settles… there’s nothing but time now.”
How the hell am I supposed to live a few hundred years without him? Even a year seems too long. I can’t believe I’ve fucked up entirely the only good thing that has happened to me since I was born. My shadows hum in disapproval at that thought. Sassy things. Okay, one of the few good things that ever happened to me.
A loud knock startles me from my heartbreak-stricken thoughts, before a vampire guard barges in, holding a folded parchment in his hand.
“Sir, an urgent missive just arrived from Ryawarath.” He hands the folded paper to Blaise, who takes it and breaks the seal off, reading it with a blanching face. All color drains from his features, and he jumps into action, grabbing my wrist and dragging me out the door.
“Come,” is all he says before he breaks into an impossibly fast run through the corridors. I can’t even utter a word before we gate-crash through Killian’s private study’s doors, and I’m met with his livid, loathing stare.
“What the hell is she fucking doing here? I made myself very clear, Blaise, that I do not wish to see her lying, treacherous face ever again. Get. Her. Out!” he bellows, fangs barred, before Blaise throws the missive in his face.
“Shut up, idiot. Read that!” he shouts, his chest heaving, standing in front of me protectively.
“Blaise, please, what’s going on? What does the letter say?” I ask while Killian reads, his face turning ash white.
“It says you two have to get your shit together fast. There is no time for licking wounds, as doom looms above our heads worse than ever.”
Killian’s onyx gaze rises to meet my own, and a myriad of emotions swim in his dark depths.
Anger.
Betrayal.
Heartache.
Mistrust.
Fear.
“It says, little umbra, that Prince Noahlin’s wedding took place just the other day. Followed by King Orgon’s descent from the throne and his ascension to power. It ends with, and I quote: ‘All hail the new Fae King Noahlin and his wife, Queen Aurora Vaureghain!’”
My blood freezes in my veins as I metaphorically pick up my jaw from the ground. Whatever the fuck happened with the bride being Loelle Brimms? Was it all a ruse?
My black shadows creep on the floor, meeting Killian’s crimson ones, twirling and merging between us, like two long-lost lovers finally reuniting.
“The end of Imiryion is here,” I say under my breath as I hold Killian’s cold, unflinching stare.
END OF BOOK 1
