Page 27 of Beauty

Three would sing for a king. One for a prince or princess.

Or a pretender. Seamus’s voice seeps into my head. Thebean sidhe know what you are.

Could it be possible? Could the washer woman’s wail be forme?

“Three would likely come for the outlaws. It’s only one.It’s a prince or princess. But we killed the girl.” Glannis waves off the beansidhe. “It’s most likely the queen she sings for. ’Tis no great loss. Youcan take a new wife. A fertile one. The rebellions might die out if you had anheir of your own.”

My coup was carefully prepared. I took no chances. I plannedfor years, including paying soothsayers across three different planes. Each sawthe same thing—Bronwyn, his ridiculous puffball of a niece, was the one whocould strike the killing blow. Beck and Cian could take the throne back, butthey couldn’t kill him. Only that nitwit Bronwyn could.

But I buried her.

I turn to my brother, his prior words sinking in. “You saidyou hated me for killing your wife.”

The hags stare at me like I’m insane.

“Your Majesty, we don’t hate you.” Una looks around asthough she can suddenly feel something but can’t see it. Glannis glancesaround, too, but neither can catch sight of Seamus, it seems. Seamus showshimself only to me.

I don’t waste time on them. There are no explanations thatwill make sense, and I struck on something important. Seamus loses his smile.

My brother rails at me for the loss of his throne and hiswife. He often speaks of Beck and Cian. And he never, ever mentions Bronwyn. Ithought it was because a daughter is of no use outside what her hand inmarriage can bring a kingdom. Seamus ignored the girl except to lift her in hisarms and twirl her around on occasion. He would pat her on the head and callher “little pixie.” She was insignificant before she died.

Or was she? His brother changed since his death. He fuckingloves everyone now. Everyone except his little pixie.

“She’s alive.” It’s the only explanation. Somehow the twitsurvived and laid out a body to be mistaken as her own. Perhaps that’s whyshe’d set the fire.

Seamus shakes his head, but he wasn’t a decent liar in life,and his turn as a sluagh didn’t fix the problem.

I roar, the sound combining with the bean sidhe’swail. I put a hand to Glannis’s throat and squeeze until the hag’s eyes bulge.

“Find Bronwyn Finn.”

Chapter Seven

Shim

I stare out over the ocean. The temptation to grabthe invisible thread that binds me to Bronwyn is nearly overwhelming. This iswhere the thread is always its strongest. Here on the beach. Now, I understandwhy. There’s a crack in the veil here that we will shortly slip through. Itwill lead us to Tír na nÓg.

The night before I felt so close to her. We drew her in,bringing her to the chamber that will one day be ours and stripping her bare.She was so beautiful, her skin nearly pearlescent in the moonlight. At first,she stayed in the bright light of day, her domain. In those moments when sheturned her face up to the sun, she was a goddess, remote and untouchable, atrue vision of pure Seelie beauty. But once she was in our domain, she lookedperfect—sexy and so fuckable that my dick is still in agony hours later.

“Do you think she woke up?” Lach asks, joining me. Lach isalready dressed for travel, in plain clothes and worn boots. Nothing that willgive away the fact that we’re royalty. It won’t work here in the Unseeliekingdom, but once we get to the Seelie plane, we hope we can blend in. Ifanyone asks, we’re merchants traveling to the agricultural provinces. That willexplain the guard. Merchants have more rights than peasants but are far lessinteresting than nobles.

Though the sheer fact that we’re traveling with a group ofmercenary vampires, a gnome who thinks he’s the next coming of Lugh, and ayoung woman who can change into a wolf might hurt us in the blending-indepartment.

I sigh. The dream the night before was the most vivid sinceour childhood. It hurt when she disappeared. “I suppose so.”

“You don’t think she cut off contact herself, do you?” Lachasks, his expression blank, but that doesn’t work on the man who holds theother half of my soul.

The smarter half. I see right through him. “No. She wasright on the edge of a massive orgasm, Lach, so no, I don’t think she decidedto cut us off. She woke up. It happens. Besides, as far as I can tell, shehasn’t learned how to tune us out.”

I turn. The mercenaries began walking at daybreak, trudgingback and forth along the beach, looking for something William Roan, themercenary, calls a weak point. He paused every now and then, used his tablet totake readings, and then moved on. Finally, they stopped here. And then thewaiting began.

Lach shrugs as though it doesn’t really matter. “I waswondering if she figured out something.”

I look at my brother. Though we’ve known all of our livesthat this one woman is meant for us, I’m sure that things seem to be happeningvery quickly for Lachlan. “I had more control last night. Did you feel it?”

Lach nods. “A bit, though I know you have the strongerconnection.”

And that’s a point of contention between us. “Only because Ihad hold of the thread when she died. It connected us. It doesn’t mean she’sgoing to love you less. I think we should try to find a way to tell her, and Ithink we should show her your real face.”