The Lost Fae (The Twisted Crown #3) - A.K. Koonce Page 0,79

Cordelia is the only thing I can focus on without strain.

I have to keep her attention.

It’s odd to think I am the threat she constantly searched for, and now I’m struggling to keep her attention.

But I will if it’s the last thing I do.

Because I know, right now, his strong wings are extending lethally from his back, stretching out to their large span and glowing blue. Black weblike veins run through them and outline their edges. And I know he is magnificent. Even if I can’t see it. I know by the way Cordelia's mouth drops open and the sword falls from my face as she pales.

She fully faces Lincoln.

“Your existence is blasphemous! You're not even a real Fae. You're a half Fae and have no right to mock our gods with your image. I took what didn't belong to you years ago," she seethes, "And I'll take it again!"

The way she speaks makes me think that somewhere inside her head, everything she does is justified. Everything she does is righteous. Cordelia isn't the villain of her own story... She's just the villain of mine. And I don't stay at her feet waiting for her to justify her riotousness.

Pushing from the ground, I roll away. I catch myself quickly and leap into the air still holding my weapon tightly. My wings bring me up higher and higher until I’m at the same level of the cages hanging from the ceiling. At this height, Cordelia's just an ant waiting to be squashed.

She doesn’t look so powerful now.

I glare down at the hateful woman who has ruined so many lives. My shadow bleeds over her and blocks out the dark outline of her crown.

“It isn’t about that. As much as you hate it, our blood is the same, Cordelia. I’m just not as insecure as you are to beat, break, and kill anyone I think is a threat. A real queen knows when her crown fits.” A smile twitches at my lips. “And yours never did,” I whisper.

My wings beat at the air, harder and harder until I’m suddenly angling myself forward towards her. Her face is still stuck on Lincoln, she hasn't even looked to her future king once. Kai watches in awed silence, his skin beginning to turn a sickly green.

In a flash, I’m diving down toward her like a vengeful falling star. My eyes narrow. My jaw tightens. My fingers grip the hilt painfully still.

The gasp on her lips dies before it cries.

The bloody point of my sword rails fully through Cordelia’s chest. She wraps her hands around my fingers where I hover, still holding it.

There’s a single heartbeat—just one—where I’m holding her hands. For a minor instant in our lives, we almost look like embracing sisters.

It’d be sweet if it wasn’t so sad.

The sharp intake of breath gurgles inside of her throat. A drop of blood trails out of her mouth, dripping slowly. I let go of the blade. The clattering sound of it drowns out her fall as well as my footsteps as I take a step back. And then another. And another.

My wide eyes hold on her open, vacant gaze.

There’s no regret within me. But I still can’t look away from the once cruel and conniving woman.

Lincoln's there in an instant. His warm hands wrap around me, turning me to him.

I squeeze my eyes shut, then force them back open. His thick dark lashes lower as he focuses solely on me. Lincoln rubs a thumb under my chin where Cordelia's weapon had been posed for the briefest second.

"Fuck," Kai whispers slowly on the heaviest breath.

I turn to look at him, to let him see everything that he has lost, but when I face him and the bandits standing at his throne, Kai's gone. The Fae look down at their hands, then at the seat with questioning gazes. I can smell his magic in the air. Even now I’m amazed at how little I truly know of the Prince. Perhaps how little everyone knows him.

My gaze shifts back and forth and I fly up before crashing back down. He’s beneath me in an instant. Smoke wafts off of him, but he doesn’t try to fade away from me as he just had.

“I always imagined I’d end up beneath you eventually,” he says with a smirk tilting his arrogant lips as his hand lifts to brush away a strand of my hair.

His fingers barely touch me before I fling my head down hard enough to hear a crack