Page 86 of The Midnight King
For a moment I think my plan has succeeded, and that the wedding—and my impending death—will be delayed. But then Brantley says, in a tone of cold resignation, “Celinda is a good woman. She deserves a good life, and I have promised her my hand in marriage. She will be my partner and the mother of my children. I am a man of my word.”
Winston’s face hardens, a mask over the pain that must be ravaging his heart. “As you wish, my Prince.”
Well… fuck that plan. There’s no time to try another, which means tonight I will endure the agony of the anklet.
I welcome it. I deserve it.
But Brantley doesn’t deserve a life of denying who he is, so when the time comes for me to make my royal speech at the start of the wedding, I take a moment to speak the words he needs to hear from his father. By tomorrow morning, Brantley will know that the King is dead. What I have to say cannot allay that grief, but I hope it helps alleviate any doubt the Prince might feel about his father’s respect or approval.
The wedding ceremony is less painful than I expected it to be. Unlike Fae life-knotting ceremonies or mating bonds, mortal marriages are easily dissolved. I have much greater worries than a few promises presided over by a human bishop.
Afterward, I perform as the King throughout the rest of the day. I remain present for the speeches and festivities, yet I do not center myself. This celebration is for Prince Brantley, a man I’ve come to respect, and even though Celinda was forced into this, the festivities are for her as well.
Her gaze keeps finding me, over and over. She seeks me out restlessly, and she always seems more peaceful once she catches a glimpse of my face. The attention gives me hope that her forgiveness is not entirely out of my reach.
Before the newlyweds retire for the night, I leave the gathering and shut myself into the King’s chambers, giving my servants strict orders not to disturb me. From the King’s suite, I portal to the library, remove the real King’s body from its hiding place, and transport it back to the royal bedchamber. There I dress the corpse in nightclothes and arrange it under the blankets.
Next I create a portal into Brantley’s study and wait there in the darkness. From my conversations with the Prince, I know that he reads every night, and since I’ve taken every book off his nightstand, he’ll have to come into the study to fetch one. My ring’s secret compartment has been refilled with sleeping powder, so it will be an easy matter to render Brantley unconscious and stow him out of sight while I take his place.
Everything unfolds according to my plan: putting Brantley to sleep, returning to Celinda in the guise of her new husband, facing her stepmother, and finally enduring the agony of the anklet.
What I don’t expect is Celinda’s determination to save me. She is relentless, unyielding, and with her encouragement and my final shred of strength, I manage to create what I expect to be my last portal: a doorway into my father’s shop in Faerie.
The next several moments are blurred with pain and the sound of my own screams, but I’m dimly aware of my mother cutting off my leg to save me, followed by my father giving me the strongest healing sweets in his arsenal.
Then I’m in the guest room on the first floor of my parents’ house, and it’s quiet, and Celinda is with me, grasping my face and saying fiercely, “Do you realize you almostdied?”
“I’m quite aware of the fact,” I reply with a weak smile. “I figured it was likely, and I was prepared for it.”
“ButIwasn’t!” she exclaims. “Killian, how would your parents have felt about that? About you dying for some human girl you barely know?”
“Some human girl? You think that’s all you are to me? Fuck that, Celinda. You know better.”
She’s breathing hard, her cheeks pink. “What exactly do you think I know?”
I reach for her hand and gently uncurl her clenched fingers. “You are my madness. I fucking lost my mind over you. That’s not your fault, I know. But when I lost my mind, I lost my heart, too. I would die for you, Sin—I wouldkillfor you if I had to. I understand that you hate me for lying to you, and I can live with that, as long as I know that you’re free.”
“But I’m not free,” she whispers. “I’m married to the Prince, and the King is dead. When I go back, I will have to wake Brantley and tell him his father is gone. I don’t know how to do that, Killian. He’ll be heartbroken. And then… I want the marriage annulled, but I can’t do that to him. I’ll have to stay with him, to comfort him…”
“I think he might seek comfort from someone else. The Prince has recently realized a few things about himself. He will grieve for his father, yes, but I don’t think he will grieve the marriage.”
“His bodyguard,” Celinda says. “He’s in love with his best friend, isn’t he? And despite being so brilliant, he never saw the signs until now.”
“Precisely.” I smile a little, pleased at her perceptive nature. “And don’t talk as if you’re going back alone. I’m returning with you, though I won’t be able to glamour myself as the King again. I’ve already placed his body in his bed, and the servants will find him there in the morning. He’s been preserved by magic, so the death will seem recent. They’ll think his heart failed while he slept. But I can take on an alternate glamour and remain nearby. I’ll stay as long as you need me.”
She strokes my fingers with her thumb. “Then you might be staying a long time.”
I barely breathe, hardly daring to hope for the answer I crave. “How long?”
“Only until I die.”
Fuck yes.“Is that so?”
“I have conditions, of course.”
“Obviously.”
“One—you will help me settle things at the palace. Two—once my annulment goes through, you’ll bring me back to Faerie with you. I haven’t seen much of it yet, but I’d like to. And three—I will forgive your great deception, if you will agree to take on the form of the King whenever I ask you to. For fun.”