Keeper of Storms (The Fallen Fae #3) - Jenna Wolfhart Page 0,127

back. “You ran from your responsibility to this realm. And then you took it back by force. Half the city has burned to the ground.”

He winced. “That was never my intention. The Sea Court—”

“Only came here because you brought them with you.”

“They would have invaded regardless of what I’d said or done.” He shook his head. “But that doesn’t matter. You’re right. I’ve done some terrible things, but so have you. You speak of protecting the people, of keeping them safe. But I offered you surrender. You refused it.”

Mariel tipped her head back against the wall and closed her eyes. “I have no wish to have this discussion with you.”

“You think I’m evil, but I’m just trying to do my best for this realm.” He reached for the bars but stopped short just in time, the iron buzzing with magic. “I could have killed you, Mariel. If anyone else had been in my place, you’d be dead.”

“You speak as though you did me a favor.”

“Didn’t I?”

“I’d rather be dead than trapped in this cell for the rest of my life. The decades stretch out before me, endless days of nothing more than darkness and dirt. Put me out of my misery.”

Thane stepped back. “I won’t do that.”

She let out a bitter chuckle. “And why not? I’m your enemy in every way imaginable. I tried to steal your court from you. You should hang me before a crowd to make a point. Treason always ends in death. I knew that when I chose to go against your reign. I never expected both of us to live.”

Thane sighed. He knew it had been a terrible idea to come down here. “I’m not going to execute you, Mariel. That’s not the kind of king I wish to be.”

“Then, what are you going to do with me? Keep me here forever?”

“I don’t know,” he murmured. And he really didn’t. When he’d found Mariel sitting on his throne, rage had burned through his veins. In the end, he hadn’t been able to bring himself to kill her. All the rage had vanished like smoke. With a heavy sigh, he spun on his heels and left the dungeons behind.

Thane dropped back into the throne, weariness tugging on his tired bones. His conversation with Mariel had gone nothing like he’d wanted, though he couldn’t say what he’d expected to gain from it either.

She was right. He didn’t deserve the throne.

But neither did she.

“Your Grace,” one of the guards at the doors spoke up. Thane sat up a little straighter. He didn’t know any of these fae. He would need to remedy that, as soon as possible. “High King Cos Darragh is here, and he wishes to speak with you.”

Thane arched a brow. “Send him in.”

Cos Darragh strode into the Great Hall with his silver hoarfrost cloak billowing behind him. He stood tall, wearing a refined, powerful air as if it were a second skin. Another ice fae stood beside him. She was the spitting image of Eislyn, only there was a confidence in the set of her shoulders that the youngest Darragh sister had never had.

“Thank you for seeing us. This is my daughter, Princess Glencora Darragh,” Cos said proudly, though there was a flicker of something dark in his eyes. It came almost as quickly as it went. Likely memories of before, of that terrible illness that had plagued his daughter for months. “You were unable to meet with her when you visited our home several months ago.”

“I remember,” Thane said gently, flicking his eyes over Glencora. She was just as he’d always imagined. Her silver hair had been braided and then piled on top of her head in a pristine bun. A few stray strands curled around her face, highlighting the sharp tips of her ears. Her face was clear and smooth. Pink dotted her cheeks, but not too much. Her fine, embroidered gown fit her curves, each inch of fabric pristine and free of dirt.

She truly was the opposite of Reyna Darragh.

“You look well, Princess Glencora,” Thane said, wondering if he should mention what had happened. It had likely been a dark time for her, and he did not wish to cause her unnecessary grief.

“Thank you, Your Grace.” She curtsied perfectly, bowing her head his way, even though she did not need to. He was not her king, nor would he ever be. The High Kings had all decided to keep their own crowns and their own titles. They were equal allies, and no