Page 254 of The Edge of Darkness

Another flash of light encompassed Killian’s body, just like before. But this time, when it faded, Prince Alston was staring back at me.

I gaped in disbelief.

The black hair, the pale skin, the ordinary look of a human and not a fae . . . The only feature that remained the same were his eyes, the color of blue topaz stone. I remembered taking note of the color upon meeting both Killian and the prince—how similar they were to one another. But it hadn’t occurred to me that they could have belonged to the same being all along.

It never made sense to me why Killian had been so outraged when I left his court. Not until now. He had been masquerading as the prince, whose leg I’d sliced open, and publicly humiliated. He’d sent his men for me, but I’d fled the castle and escaped just in time. He must have thought he was going mad when I showed up in Elandrew after having just seen me in the human realm.

And then I’d slipped through his fingers again.

“Niall was right to be wary of whom he trusts. You should have listened to him.” He stretched Alston’s mouth into a sinister grin that sent chills down my spine. “It’s a shame my cousin isn’t here to see this. Didn’t he pledge his loyalties to your pathetic cause? Only to fall short when you need him most. Typical.” He let out a laugh. “But it’s no matter. I’ll be sure to personally seek him out on the battlefield if it comes to it.”

I had no words. My mind was reeling.

Who else had he taken the form of?

What else were we not aware of?

Across the clearing, the queen looked as if she’d seen a ghost. “W-Who are you?” Her voice faltered as she stared at her son’s impersonator.

“My real name is Killian, High Lord of Elandrew.”

Corinne shook her head in denial.

“You guessed it from the start. The moment your son woke from his deathbed, you knew, yet you never said a word.” He lifted a brow. “What does that say about you, Queen? What are you hiding?”

Weston took a protective step in front of his Dionam, his eyes narrowing at the implied threat.

I had no doubt he was running through every scenario in his mind, trying to figure out how he missed something so crucial, and what, or who else was compromised within the castle.

Killian chuckled, then turned his sights back to his prisoner. “Hello again, father,” he said, grazing a hand—Alston’s hand—over the king’s head in mocking admiration.

Broderick shook off Killian’s hand and spat at his feet. “Get away from me! You are no son of mine!”

Quicker than a blink, Killian snatched the king’s hair with his other hand, yanking his head back and baring his throat to the sky. He slid a dagger from his waistband and slowly brought it up to Broderick’s neck. “Defiant until the end. You know, I always admired how courageous you were—never one to fear anything. Always thinking deeply and moving with intent. Turns out those things didn’t work in your favor after all.”

The king stared up into the impersonator’s eyes. Pain was now stitched into every line on his face. “How?” he struggled to say against Killian’s tight grip.

“Oh, I’ve been spying in your court for quite some time. Since before your son succumbed to his wounds.”

The king snarled.

Killian grinned, then turned his head toward me. “It was Ramil who approached Lyceius, wanting to strike a bargain for power. After glimpsing all he could obtain with the Alatyr, he grew greedy and wanted more. And when he came to me and offered me a place at his side, I happily accepted. We were to bring the realms down from within, until you showed up and threw a kink into our plans.” He scoffed, then scowled. “The Bringer of Light. I had you in my fucking grasp.”

He withdrew the dagger and pointed it at me. “I knew there was something different about you at the tournament. And when you crossed The Veil, that made me all the more suspicious. But even though you managed to get away, it all worked out in the end. You’re right where we want you to be.”

The king shifted on his knees beneath Killian, prompting the High Lord to turn his attention back to him.

“And as for you . . .” Killian brought the blade back to the king’s throat. “Your son was my key to gaining a stronghold in your territory. When he died, I seized my opportunity and became him. All your secrets, every plan you’ve ever shared with me—thinking I was your beloved heir—were compromised from the start. And when you brought me into your private counsel to tell me what you’d found in the archival texts beneath the castle, what the human kings before you had been doing, I knew your time was at an end. You questioned too much. You would have exposed everything. But don’t worry, your faithful son and heir will lead in your stead now. The report of your death will be due to a ‘sudden fever.’ I’ll mourn for only a little while—for appearances’ sake—and then everything will continue as planned, and no one will ever know.”

The king, still powerless beneath Killian’s grip, jerked in protest, drawing a sliver of blood as the blade’s edge pressed into his skin.

“What do you think, Your Highness?” Killian asked, angling his weapon. “Shall I wear your son’s face while I slit your throat?”

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the queen move. She stepped forward, her voice thick with worry as she pleaded, “Please—please don’t do this.”

Her hand was buried in the pocket of her cloak, fiddling nervously with something, but she did not reveal what.

Killian gave a half-hearted glance at the queen. “Auren can surrender at any moment, if she so chooses.”