Page 109 of This Prince Is Not Charming

Either way, if we ever got out of here, we were going to have a lot of hard conversations ahead of us.

A crack split the air, and everyone jumped back.

“Is this place collapsing on us?” Clio cried, clutching Siobhan while Lila and Liadan joined hands and Meera leapt onto Marsten’s shoulder.

Lor stepped back from the statue. “No,” he said. “It’s not.”

Chunks of stone broke from the statue, falling to the ground with a crash. Dust rose in the air as more pieces continued to break off.

Lor didn’t move. He just stared at the faerie queen.

“Is it breaking apart?” Siobhan asked. “Did we destroy it with our wrong guess?”

I took a step forward, studying the statue. “I don’t think so.” I pointed toward the stone calf, where a flash of bronze skin peeked through.

“What is that?” Lila asked with a shaky voice.

“I think it’s her leg,” I said.

The stone continued to fracture and shed, and each time a piece dropped, a loud crack boomed through the little room. Slowly, more of her leg was revealed—a thick, smooth calf.

Siobhan’s hand floated to her mouth. “It’s truly her.”

“Our queen has returned,” Meera said, and for the first time since I’d met the cat, there was no sarcasm or boredom in her tone—just awe.

Lor still didn’t move, and our prisoners’ gazes stayed transfixed on the scene, both with wide, terrified eyes.

“Is she a danger to anyone?” I asked. The only thing I knew of this ancient faerie was that she was a warrior and a skilled killer. “What if she wakes up in a rage? Hurts us all?”

“She wouldn’t do that,” Clio snapped over her shoulder. “Aoife was skilled but kind, benevolent. She only ever wanted the best for the Fair Folk and humans. Her war was with the godwitches, no one else.”

“Will all of you shut up?” Lor’s voice came out in a growl.

The stone had fully fallen away from her leg, and she brought it up, bending at the knee and resting her sandaled foot on the table where she lay. A translucent periwinkle dress flowed from her waist over her leg, falling around it in layers of fabric, a high slit showing her russet skin, dark and smooth without a single scar or mark.

By now, Siobhan, Clio, and Meera were all bent into kneeling positions, heads tipped down. Ceri and I looked at each other, and we knelt as well. The others followed suit.

Both her legs were free, and the stone continued to fall from her waist to her stomach, up to her breasts, and then her head. The final piece fell, and I could only see parts of her with Lor blocking the way, but she slowly sat up, golden eyes taking us all in, not saying a word.

“Our queen,” Meera said. “Our queen has returned.”

CHAPTER 47

Cillian

Imarched down the dungeon stairs, Sir Arthur’s voice ringing out. “On guard, you scum!”

Oh, godwitches. Why had we moved him back down to the dungeons? Oh, right. Because he insisted he had to be down there to guard the “traitor scum” who’d returned to Fairwitch. Sir Arthur didn’t even remember who I was half the time, but he’d had no trouble remembering the Wolfgang brother who had disappeared years ago and defected to the enemy.

“Arthur,” I said with a warning in my voice. “Stop terrorizing our prisoner.”

The suit of armor stiffened as I stepped up behind him, his wooden sword poking through the bars of the cell where Lor sat against the stone wall, head hanging, hair covering his face. “So that’s what I am? A prisoner?” he asked as the crown still hovered over his head. It was shiny and pristine, though grime and dirt covered the rest of him.

“Don’t come too close, Your Majesty,” Sir Arthur said. “He could grab your head, bang it against the bars, and then strangle you.”

“Thank you for the idea,” Lor said. “I’ll have to remember that one.”

“You’re not helping,” I said under my breath.