Page 106 of The Crowned Queen

Araya shifted in her sleep, her soft breath tickling his collar bone. Loren tugged her closer, holding her tight until her breathing evened out again. Part of him wanted to drag her away, to lock her up where she couldn’t even consider something like this. She was his mate. His to cherish. To love. To protect.

But she was also his equal. The queen who could challenge him. Make him worthy of being king. So now they were here. And tomorrow they would find out if they were strong enough together to win where his parents had failed.

Or they would die together. Because there was no future where he stood without her.

The Eldergreen was exactly as Loren remembered it.

He stood at the edge of the clearing, hovering in the shadow of the same gnarled trees with their moss-covered roots. Tiny white flowers studded the mossy ground, an unseen brook babbling nearby as the magic that ran through it all brushed against his skin. It urged him to step forward, to enter the grove and face his fate.

But it was a siren song—one that would drag him under if he let it. Loren dug his heels into the soft moss, crossing his arms over his chest. He wasn’t interested in the judgement of yet another ancient power, no matter what promises it had made Araya.

“Lorendrael,” his mother said.

He was across the threshold before he’d decided to move. Every step crushed tiny white flowers beneath his feet, filling the air with the sweet perfume Loren had come to associate with Araya. His heart had lodged somewhere in his throat, stealing his breath and his voice as he stumbled to a halt in front of the familiar fae female like a child who had been called to task.

This wasn’t his mother, he reminded himself. It looked like her. The same fae green eyes. Her silver hair tumbling loose and unadorned around her shoulders. She even wore the same simple linen nightdress his mother had always favored in the summers.

But his mother had died twenty-five years ago. Loren had visited her tomb. Seen her bones. This—this was something else. Something wearing her face and voice like a mask.

Instinctively, Loren reached for the shadows. They were vast and ancient. Together, they could surely bring even this power to heel⁠—

They weren’t there.

Loren staggered, the shock nearly taking him to the ground. He tried again, throwing his mind wide. But the only shadows here were the ones cast by the gnarled trees surrounding the grove.

“Dara’el does not sleep, Lorendrael,” the forest said with his mother’s voice. “They do not dream. Not since they accepted you.”

A dream. This was a dream. Loren wet his cracked lips, swallowing hard. That meant all he had to do was endure until he woke up.

“What do you want?” he asked.

“What do you want, lost prince?” it challenged, green eyes flashing. “You lead humans here. Let them burn my trees. Cut my vines. But you do not seek me out?”

“You killed my mother,” Loren said.

The forest cast him a sharp look, something ancient and furious staring out at him from behind his mother’s face. “Queen Lysandiane died charging us to protect the power here,” it said. “That was her choice. What will your mate choose, Lorendrael?”

Loren stared into his mother’s face. At the eyes he’d inherited, the lips that had kissed his forehead and the hands that had brushed the hair out of his eyes and soothed his hurts. She’d given everything to protect the fae as best she could. His father had too, even if it hadn’t been enough in the end.

“She shouldn’t have to die here,” he said. “You want the last of the Shaws dead? Let me do it.”

The forest cocked its head. “You failed before,” it said. “Why do you think now will be different?”

“I don’t know,” Loren admitted. “But if anyone sacrifices themselves here, it should be me. Let her live. Please.”

The forest was silent for a long moment, the only sound the soft whisper of the breeze through the trees.

“We will consider,” it said at last. “Your time grows short, Lorendrael. Wake now, lost king. And fight.”

Chapter

Forty

Araya woke slowly, stirring from the deepest sleep she’d had in months. Muscles she hadn’t even realized she had ached, bringing a flush to her cheeks and a smile to her lips. This was where she wanted to wake up every morning, safe and warm in her mate’s arms.

She tilted her head to look up at him through her lashes, not surprised to find him already watching her.

“How long did we sleep?” she asked.