A crowd was gathering in the throne room, as if every resident of at Court had been summoned, but they were all gossipmongers, so it didn’t take much to gain their attention.
The negative murmur made her cheeks heat, but Alana didn’t bother looking around. She wouldn’t give them any satisfaction of confirming her embarrassment. Not because of Alex, or getting caught, but because Seamus wanted to hold her accountable so publicly.
Xander hadn’t come to her rescue in the tunnels, and when the prince had called for his men to seize her, she’d ordered her cousin to stay away.
She hadn’t heard from him since, but wouldn’t put it past him to be watching from the shadows until he could act to free her.
A part of her prayed that was true.
Seamus had captured her husband as well, and two Irish Fae Warriors had him bound between them. Two more held her next to them, but they hadn’t tied her up.
From the first moment she’d seen Alex, she’d panicked that the prince had been true to his word and had killed all the MacLeods, but her husband’s headshake told her he was the only victim. Their son and the rest of the clan were safe. For now.
Seamus had barked at her father’s steward to fetch him. They awaited his arrival, and Alana tried to talk herself out of being a tremoring mess.
The king could order her death, Alex’s death, in moments. She had leverage against Seamus that might save their lives, but her betrayal was greater than Seamus’—she’d acted; he had not. She recalled how Princess Sima had been wiped from royal records and fought the urge to close her eyes.
Alana looked at her husband, and tried to mirror his straight shoulders and squared jaw, despite his bound hands. If he could be strong when they were very much in trouble, so should she.
“What is the meaning of this?” King Fillan boomed. He marched across the hall and up onto his dais, but he didn’t take a seat on his throne. He posted in front of it, his captain on his heels.
Her father had on the thick fur-line mantel he only wore when accepting audiences, and she sensed he’d hastily dressed, despite his impeccable appearance. His jeweled crown glinted in the magic lights hanging all over the vast room.
Alana shook in the Irish Fae Warrior’s grip at her father’s tone. He was angry.
More so than she’d seen him in a long time.
The accompanying Fae Warriors from her Court exchanged looks, obviously confused that their Irish counterparts were restraining her, but they glanced at the king, and her uncle, Captain Daegus, before making any moves. Xander’s father stood coolly assessing the situation from her father’s side in front of his throne.
Of course, no soldier would dare order their princess free without approval.
The two that had Alex by the arms shoved him to his knees before her father.
I’m sorry, my love, she told him mentally.
Alana whimpered and their eyes locked, but her husband held his chin high and gave her an almost imperceptible nod, silently telling her to be strong.
The pain in her chest eased, but didn’t disappear.
This was all her fault.
Seamus strode forward, hands on hips, chest thrust out as if he’d just been crowned king. “I bring you a gift, Your Majesty.”
“A gift?”
“The Crown Princess is a traitor, Majesty.” Seamus glared at her before glancing back at her father. “The worst kind of traitor. She betrayed us all! She never intended to marry me. She married this human in secret, but not only that, she bore his filth, a halfling she’s hidden in the Human Realm for years.”
Everyone in the throne room—a mixture of courtiers, lords, ladies, and even the Fae Warriors gasped and stared. Some of the noblewomen held their hands over their mouths to hide aghast expressions.
King Fillan’s face reddened to his ears, and his massive chest rose as if he needed to breathe, or gather himself before speaking.
Of course he won’t question Seamus.
She would never deny Alex—why try at this point, they were captured—but for her father to believe without doubt, without asking her first burned low in her gut.
He was the king more than he’d ever been her father.
“Is this true, Alana?” Every word was carefully measured, but his voice got louder, more demanding. Her name was uttered like a deadly curse.
Alana looked at Alex, even though it was dangerous.
Her husband’s jaw was locked, and he was openly glaring at the king.
Her father’s face went redder, filled with even more rage when she met the violet eyes that matched hers.
She held her chin high and suppressed the urge to swallow.
Do not show weakness.
“Aye, Father.”
One of the Irish Warriors shoved her, knocking her off her feet.
Alana landed on all fours and a white-hot bolt shot up her knees and wrists at the same time. Her forearms ached, as did her thighs. She pushed herself up, but didn’t try to stand. She needed a moment, and told herself to breathe away the surprise and anger swirling in her gut.
Alex yelled and rushed to his feet, but the Irish soldiers seized him and pushed him back down to his knees, holding him there with heavy grips on his shoulders.
Had his hands not been bound with magic manacles, her husband might’ve had a chance to grab a sword, but there was too many powers surrounding them.
He’d get himself killed.
She couldn’t watch that.
Alex, I’m fine. Don’t fight them, it will be worse, she told him, but he didn’t look convinced.
Even from across the room she could see the worry in his sapphire eyes.
Her uncle nodded at a few of his men, and two rushed to her side, but not to rescue her. The Irish Fae backed away and she was blocked in by two soldiers from her own Court. The same happened to her husband.
I don’t know how, but we’ll get out of this.
Alex didn’t look at her, but he gave a slight nod.
“Where is your bodyguard?” King Fillan demanded.
“I know not.”
She’d told Xander to stay away. Her father would never believe he didn’t know about her and Alex. He had mages who could use magic to get the truth no matter what, so lying was no use. Her cousin would lose his position—if he managed not to lose his life.
His father would not save him. To her uncle, his son was just another Fae Warrior. Xander got no favors due to their blood ties.
“Sir Xander isn’t complicit in this, Your Majesty. The princess tricked him as well as myself and you. I suspect she used great magic.”
It took all Alana was made of not to glance at Seamus.
Why would he cover for her cousin? What did he have planned? He couldn’t believe his words, could he?
Unless he was protecting himself.
Xander was the only other person who could substantiate the prince’s plot against her father, except for any coconspirators. He wouldn’t want her father’s mages to question her cousin any more than she would. They knew the name of one, after all, and the others would come to light.
She prayed to the Goddess her cousin was safe where he was. She’d spoken honestly when her father had asked. She’d told Xander not to disclose where he was going.
“‘Tis a relief there was not more than one betrayal this day,” the king said. He narrowed his eyes and addressed his captain. “Take the foul human to the dungeons. Do with him what you will.”
Alana shot to her feet, trying to tear away from the four strong hands pulling at her arms. “Father, don’t kill him! Please!”
The king froze, then turned his glare on her. “‘Father’, you call me? No daughter of mine, let alone the Crown Princess would perform such blasphemous acts. You are no daughter to me. Not anymore. From this day forward.” He glanced at the Royal Scribe, who was already furiously writing on parchment from his pedestal.
“Ye bastard,” Alex spat.
The Scottish Fae who’d taken over grabbed his upper arms and yanked him to his feet.
Her husband fought their hold to no avail.
“Daegus,” her father barked.
Xander’s father stepped forward, his thick ebony locks free and surrounding him like a dark aura. Unlike his Warriors, he always wore his hip-length hair free of restraint. He backhanded Alex twice.
Alana screamed but she couldn’t look away as her husband’s head snapped to one side and blood flew from his mouth.
Her father scowled. “Enough. I do not want the scent of his impure blood to linger here. I cannot abide the smell.”
“Aye, Majesty.” Uncle Daegus gave a curt nod, but didn’t move away from his men, as if unsure they could contain Alex.
Perhaps he wanted a reason to hurt him again. She’d always wondered if her uncle really liked to torture.
“Your Majesty,” she called.
Her father paused.
“Please promise you won’t kill him.”
The king threw his head back and laughed, his face lit up with black mirth. “Why, my betrayer, would I ever do that?”
“Because, I have news of betrayal as well.”
His expression fluttered from disbelief to curiosity. He narrowed his eyes again and she prayed he’d indulge her here, in front of the whole Court.
In front of her betrothed.
Desperation clawed at her from the inside out. She swallowed and ordered herself to stay calm, look him in the eye and show him her royal blood. Especially since he’d just officially disowned her.
“Oh, very well.” King Fillan sounded bored, and he gestured with one hand. “What news have you?”
Alana squared her shoulders and looked straight at the prince before pinning her father with her gaze. “Seamus is plotting to kill you.”