Page 21 of The Dead Queen

My father is testing me, I realize. A test of my loyalty. A test of my story. Proof that I truly don’t know this man. That he means nothing to me … except he does. I don’t even know his name, but right now, that dying man means everything to me. I can’t let him bleed out.

Father narrows his eyes again. “I said, ‘out.’”

The finality in his tone leaves no room for argument. The lights in the sconces flicker out as we pass, plunging the kennels into darkness. Foxhounds wheeze and pull against their metal chains to reach the fading light. To reach us. The heavy kennel door slams shut, leaving the dying man in pitch darkness.

As we walk further away from the old dungeon kennels, the screams of the foxhounds fade into a haunting memory.

Our footsteps crunch over the stone walkway that leads back to the palace entrance. The air is cool, carrying the scent of autumn to our doorsteps—fallen leaves, damp earth, and the promise of colder days to come. Up above, the night is clear. Thousands of stars speckle the sky, as if nothing out of the ordinary has happened. As if my entire world wasn’t just knocked entirely off kilter.

I went into the king’s chambers expecting to find answers, and I found them. Or, rather, I found out who has them.

The Wolves. The Dead Kingdom. The one place I can’t go.

“A deceitful bride and a fainting groom,” my father says with a note of false wonder. “What an interesting evening.”

I say nothing.

“I know a liar when I see one, Daughter. I will find out what that man is to you.”

“I’ve never seen him before in my life.” A truth. Hopefully, my father will see it for what it is.

He pauses, halting our small procession. When he looks at me, his eyes are dark. “You do understand that our family has protected this kingdom from Annwyn, from the Dead Queen, for centuries, don’t you?”

I swallow hard and nod.

“Then you know what’s at stake if we lose this war.”

I nod a second time.

“Good.” He turns and continues down the path.

The massive palace doors creak open when we approach and the guards step aside. A wave of noise washes over us as laughter and music spill out from the great hall. The party is still in full swing, oblivious to the dark undercurrents that threaten to pull us under.

My father holds out his arm to escort me back to the great hall. It’s the last thing I want to do right now, but I lace my arm through his. Duty and secrets are what this little family is good at, after all. I can paint my face into a pleasant smile and be the heir he needs me to be. For now, anyway. Just until I find the answers I need.

Before we walk into the ballroom, Father gives me one long, assessing look. Slowly, deliberately, he licks his thumb. The action is so unexpected that I almost flinch when he raises his hand to my face. His thumb scrapes across my temple, the touch unsettling.

“Blood,” he says, his tone maddeningly casual, as if he’s commenting on a speck of dirt or a stray hair. He shows me his thumb. There’s a smear of crimson there, stark against his skin.

Maybe, to my father, this small amount of blood seems inconsequential. But I’m starting to wonder if the old superstitions are true—whether blood spilled before the wedding day is an omen. A harbinger of strife, of unions doomed to fail, of kingdoms torn apart.

My impending marriage to Hunter may very well be cursed.

Chapter 9

For the rest of the evening, I can’t escape my father’s eyes.

After rejoining my fainting fiancé, I scan the crowd for an opportunity to slip away, but it never comes up. The King’s Guards seem to have tripled since the party began, their copper-colored armor speckles the ballroom like cinnamon on black tea. Their eyes, like my father’s, never leave me, tracking my every move.

Hunter squeezes my hand as we dance. I miss several steps in a row before a troubled look crosses his face. He leans in close, his warm breath against my ear. “I take it you did something naughty while I pretended to be indisposed.” There’s a hint of amusement in his tone, but I can hear the underlying concern.

I shake my head slightly. To my relief, Hunter doesn’t press further, though I can see the questions forming behind his eyes. No doubt he’ll corner me tomorrow, when we’re away from prying eyes.

When dawn breaks, most of the guests have dispersed. Those who remain are barely standing, drunk on wine and palace gossip. I grit my teeth and curtsey to my father. He nods, granting me permission to escape.

Hunter takes my hand and presses a chaste kiss to my knuckles. Several nearby nobles cuddle closer to their partners, as if Hunter’s affection toward me is contagious. I play the part of a lovesick lady and feign a pretty blush. They can’t see the growing darkness in my heart.

When Hunter looks up at me with those dark brown eyes, I see exhaustion etched into his face. I’m sure he’s as relieved the night is over as I am, though you’d never know it to look at him. His pleasant smile never cracks.