A Throne of Ruin (Deliciously Dark Fairytales 2)

I stopped behind the large trunk of a hollowed-out tree and peered around. Two people stood in a clearing beside what looked like a station for field dressings—a table stacked with gauze, a box with a red plus sign, and various instruments I hadn’t seen before. A stretcher sat at their feet, the white material stretched between the two poles stained crimson.

The middle-aged woman stood with perfect posture, her shoulders thrown back and head held high. A blue dress made of fine fabric hugged her trim frame, and a white apron was cinched around her middle. Her bearing suggested someone highborn, and the delicate way she gestured when speaking screamed of cultivation. The man opposite her was a bit younger, with smooth gray trousers, a white button-up shirt, and hair with a perfect part down the side. Like her, he had an air of refinement.

I remembered hearing that Nyfain met with villagers within the wood. The butler, Hadriel, had thought they were all men, but Hadriel openly admitted he was terrible at his job.

The bloody stretcher was empty, its occupant gone, and although Nyfain’s scent lingered, it wasn’t fresh.

Taking a deep breath, hands tight around the hilt of the dagger, I stepped out from my hiding place and into clear view.

The couple didn’t notice me at first, their voices low and still indistinguishable. It was like they expected creatures with expert hearing to be passing by. I made it halfway to them before the woman finally glanced over.

She startled, her mouth forming an O and her fingertips dusting across her chest. The man snapped his head toward me, very slow on the uptake. A demonic creature would’ve made short work of this pair.

I stopped where I was as the woman recovered from her surprise. Her gaze slipped down my front, taking in my pants, my dirty top, and finally the dagger in my hand.

“My goodness,” she murmured, glancing at her companion. “She looks positively wild.”

The man did the same sweep, but his conclusions were clearly different. His eyes lit up, and a little grin played on his lips. He stepped forward, his gaze dipping to my chest before roaming my face.

“You must be Finley,” the man said. “Quite the beauty. He said you would come.”

My heart lurched. “Nyfain?” I asked. “Is he okay?”

The woman’s brows knitted in disapproval. “You are to address him as—”

“Not now, Claryssa.” The man waved her away, continuing to close the space between him and me. “Yes. He followed a warbler to the edge of our village. Just…” He turned and pointed west. “Just beyond those trees and down a ways. We rushed out to help, but he’d downed the creature by the time we made it to him. He was in bad shape. We brought him here, away from demon eyes, to patch him up.”

“And you did?” I asked. “He’s okay?”

“What village are you from, girl?” Claryssa asked, walking closer. Her pinched expression said she expected me to smell.

I ignored her, my gaze rooted to the man.

“As best we could,” he said. “We carried him to the edge of the Royal Wood nearest the castle.” He turned and glanced down at the stretcher. “He’ll make it. He’s made of sturdy stuff. You have no need to worry.” He paused for a moment. “But you are, though, right? You are worried about him?”

I frowned at the eagerness in his question. This meeting was starting to get weird.

“Did you tell him to stay in tonight?” I took a step away. “He needs rest.”

“How presumptuous,” the woman scoffed. “He is the prince. You will remember his station and address him as such, girl.”

The man shot a look of annoyance at Claryssa. A placating smile took its place as his attention returned to me. “He has a duty to this wood. To his people. He’ll insist on clearing the wood again tonight. No one can make him do something he doesn’t want to. But have no fear—the first couple of nights after a full moon are the worst. The number of demon creatures loosed in the wood will diminish until after the next full moon.”

“You’re sure you got him safely to the castle?”

“Yes. He’ll be quite safe. I have seen him worse, and yet he trudges on. Ever our courageous protector.”

I blew out a breath and stepped farther away. The man continued to watch me, a strange gleam to his eyes, like a starving man looking at a plate of dinner. The woman analyzed me as well, disapproval in every line on her face.

“Great, thanks.” I attempted a half-smile, didn’t even remotely pull it off, and about-faced. They wouldn’t be pointing me toward Nyfain, it seemed. At least they’d seen to his wounds. Granted, if he could just take a night or two off, he wouldn’t need to be patched up in the first place.