Page 6 of A Crown of Fates
As if this situation weren’t complicated enough, having my wolf claim the princess of Polaris would be a disaster. The last thing I need is to pull their family into the web of lies and destruction I’ve found myself tangled in.
I turn from the window and head toward my closet, opening the door to reveal a row of formal tunics adorned with medals I haven’t earned. The polished silver shines proudly, yet only serves as a reminder that I’m a king who doesn’t deserve his kingdom.
How did I let it come to this?
“Sire, would you like me to draw a bath?” Jerome asks, ever the attentive advisor, though his eyes don’t meet mine. If he managed to face me, I know what he’d see.
Dark circles shadowing my charcoal eyes, evidence of too many sleepless nights and stubble on my cheeks that should’ve been shaved days ago, but I haven’t had the energy to care. My brunet hair, once neatly cropped, now falls in unruly waves above my ears. I run my fingers through the strands in a half-hearted attempt to tame them, but it’s a lost cause. It all feels pointless after all I’ve endured.
“No.” My voice is harsher than I intended, and Jerome stiffens slightly.
He adjusts the lapels of his maroon suitcoat, nodding. “Very well, Your Majesty. I’ll return within the hour to escort you to the gathering.”
My wolf is practically panting to claim the soul created specifically for us, but I wonder just how much things are goingto change. And, most importantly, if the one I hope to call mine will ever be able to forgive me for what I’ve done.
I slip my arms into the sleeves of my formal tunic, the dark wool sliding over my white dress shirt. The maroon piping around the edges matches the kingdom’s colors, and the golden buttons gleam. Securing them one at a time, I force myself to straighten to my full six-foot-four-inch height and call on my wolf healing to take away the bruises under my eyes. I may not be worthy of the crown I wear, but I’ll at least try to look like it. Forher,my mate.
With a heavy sigh, my gaze shifts toward the mirror near my closet. There’s still a bleakness within my stare, hollow and tired. The weight of the crown atop my head feels heavier with each passing day, pressing down on me, suffocating me to the brink of death, but never offering the sweet relief.
I shake my head, a useless attempt to clear the darkness from my mind as I move to the drink cart. My hands tremble as I pour a whiskey. It’s not the answer, but for a moment, it dulls the edge of uncertainty clawing at me. I toss it back, the liquid burning down my throat.
I’ve lived four lifetimes—nearly one thousand years in total—and in all that time, I’ve never felt as lost as I do now. Sometimes, I want to blame my mother, but the choices I’ve made are mine alone. Even when forced to do things I’d never thought I was capable of… The truth is, there was always another way. A way I never took.
Death could have stopped this years ago.
But I was too selfish. Too determined to keep fighting.
And now, with my wolf pacing inside me, impatient and agitated, I wonder if I’ll be able to make the right choice when it matters most.
Whoever my mate is, she deserves better than this. Better than me.
I wish I could believe that today will be the beginning of something good. That finding her will be a turning point. But I know better. After all I’ve been through the last few years, this feels more like the beginning of the end because no matter how much I’ll want to cherish her…
She’ll hate me for what I’ve done, and I won’t blame her.
A strange sense of relief washes over me as I imagine the near future. Maybe this is how it’s meant to end. Maybe my mate is meant to be the queen Selaris needs, and my death is the price I’ll pay to give her that chance.
Maybe, just maybe, there’s still a way to fix this.
CHAPTER FOUR
ESTEE
The threads of my embroidered bodice burn against my heated skin as I stand with Drea in the crowded ballroom, awaiting King Theo’s arrival. The more time passes, the stronger the fire building in my stomach grows—a sensation so severe I keep glancing at my arms to make sure they aren’t actually smoldering.
A sheer cape hangs over my shoulders, and the added material makes me want to tear it from the carefully sewn seams. A center opening in the fabric exposes the top of my chest, but that does nothing to keep me from feeling suffocated.
The maroon material of the skirt sways around my ankles as I fidget until Drea grabs both my hands and growls at me. “Stop.”
I raise an eyebrow, smirking. “Someone’s found her confidence.”
She blushes, dropping her gaze. “Sorry, but you’re driving me nuts.”
I chuckle, though it’s brief. Drea looks stunning—her simple silk gown drapes effortlessly over her curves, the light grey fabric soft and fluid, unlike the overly embellished nightmare I’m trapped in. She looks comfortable, while I’m about two seconds away from ripping this dress to shreds.
But before I can voice my envy, Drea stiffens beside me. A low growl vibrates from her chest, and when she looks up at me, her doe-like eyes are wide with shock but also a certainty that I don’t understand.
“Mate,” she whispers, her voice breathless.