Chapter Thirteen

”Idon”t care what you have to do,” I snarl, storming across the throne room, my phone clenched to my ear. ”Search the entire fucking settlement, house by house, if that”s what it takes, Oren.”

”Jesus Christ, Troy,” Oren Arch mutters. ”I already told you that we”re looking for her, but you”re not being reasonable. The Orcs had nothing to do with this.”

”Reasonable?” I growl, my voice dropping two octaves, ”You haven”t seen unreasonable yet, Oren.”

”For fuck”s sake. Your female isn”t here. Think, man! Why the fuck would we want her? If Stonehaven and Rosewood want to align, more fucking power to you. We don”t give a flying fuck what the humans do. We never have. You leave us alone; we leave you alone. That”s the deal.”

He”s right. I know he is, but I can”t fucking think through the terror and rage clawing at me. It”s been two days. I”ve torn apart Stonehaven. We”ve torn apart Rosewood. My men have combed through Fable Forest around the cabin. She”s nowhere to be found.

No one has come forward to say they have her. There have been no sightings. No word. Nothing.

I”m losing my mind.

”Just keep searching,” I snap, disconnecting on him as King Phillip Rosewood strides into the throne room, my father leaning heavily on his arm.

”Anything?” I ask, shoving my phone into my pocket.

”Jesus, Troy,” Samson says from across the room. ”At least let them sit the fuck down before you start grilling them.”

I shoot him a death glare but snap my mouth closed, allowing Phillip to lead my father to his throne. My father sinks into it with a groan. He looks exhausted. I don”t know why he”s helping me as much as he is, but he”s barely slept the last two days. I don”t know what to think. I don”t know how to feel. He”s been by my side, tearing the kingdom apart for me.

It”s fucking with my head. For years, he”s been the enemy—the man I railed against every damn step of the way. Now, suddenly, he isn”t. He”s acting like my father, the man I thought was lost long ago. I don”t understand what prompted the shift.

Is it me? Am I simply seeing him differently? I don”t know. Perhaps, for once, I”m simply tired of seeing him as the enemy, and I”m seeing him as he truly is. Not a despot. Not a tyrant. Not a man trying to manipulate or control me. But a man torn apart by grief, doing the best he can to guide his son and lead his kingdom.

Maybe we aren”t as different as I thought. Right now, it certainly doesn”t feel that way. I think I understand him better now than I ever have. For two days, I”ve been in hell, burning every goddamn second. He”s been there for twenty years. The only thing that sets us apart is that I still have hope. There is none for him. He”ll never hold my mother in his arms again. The only thing he can do is take care of his kingdom and wait for death. It”s a goddamn miserable way to live.

He”s done it for twenty years.

And I think he did it for me.

I”m an unworthy asshole. I”ve never felt that more acutely than I have for the last two days.

My father cuts his eyes at Samson. ”Can I have a minute with my son?”

”You can have two,” Samson says, climbing to his feet. ”Maybe you can convince him to stop threatening every leader of the free world he speaks to.” My best friend shakes his head, weary, just as exhausted as the rest of us. He”s been out there too, helping search. He only just got back from Fable Forest a few hours ago.

”Again?” King Phillip arches a brow, dark amusement in his sapphire eyes—eyes so much like his daughter”s I can”t even stand to look at him for long.

”He is who he is,” my father says.

”I”ll be in your study, drinking your fancy alcohol.” Samson ducks out into the hall.

”The Orcs are taking too long,” I tell my father and Phillip.

”The Orcs don”t have her, son.”

”They”re still searching.”

”They don”t have her,” my father says again.

”You don”t know that.”

He and Phillip share a look that draws me up short.

”You know something,” I growl. ”Tell me.”

”Who else knew where you were keeping Thalia?” Phillip asks.

”No one.”

”No one?”

”Just me and Samson.”

”Motherfucker.” Phillip”s face turns red, anger flashing in his eyes as his gaze flickers toward the door Samson just left out of.

”What?”

”Son.” My father sighs, running a hand down his face. ”Samson went missing during the search today. He was gone for over an hour.”

”What are you saying?”

”He”s saying Samson Bucia took my daughter,” Phillip growls.

Samson took Thalia?

”Impossible,” I mutter, staring at Phillip as if he”s lost his mind. Samson is the one fucking person in this world who would never betray me—my brother in everything but blood.

”Listen to him, Troy,” my father urges.

”When the search team finally caught up to him, he refused to let them continue the search in the area. He said he”d already done it.”

”Okay, so he searched ahead.”

Phillip reaches into his pocket, pulling something out. He holds it out toward me. ”If he searched, why did one of them find this clinging to a branch in plain sight?”

I stalk forward, snatching a scrap of yellow fabric from his hands. My heart slams against my ribcage, tears stinging at the corners of my eyes. I recognize it. It”s from one of her dresses—the same one she wore the day I chased her through the woods, the day she fell into the pond.

A thousand emotions rage within me, each one fighting for dominion as fury threatens to consume me. Hope, hatred, and betrayal crash together in my chest, threatening to rip me apart.

”He took her,” I growl, my voice low and dangerous. My best friend betrayed me. For the last two days, he”s smiled in my face, patted me on the back, and the entire fucking time, he”s the one who took her from me.

”There”s blood on the fabric, Troy.”

I flip it over, my gaze landing on the blood smeared across the yellow fabric. The stain is old, at least two days.

The whole goddamn world disappears in a haze of white-hot rage.

I bellow like a wounded animal, raw fury surging through me. I drop the fabric, my body already in motion before my thoughts catch up. I charge for the door—for Samson.

If he”s still in this castle, I”m going to fucking kill him. Just as soon as he tells me what he did to her.

”Troy!” My father tries to stop me.

”Let him go,” Phillip advises.

I ignore them both, throwing open the doors to the throne room and launching myself down the hallway. My feet pound against the tiles as I race toward my study, looking left and right, searching for any sign of the bastard.

I spot him at the end of the hallway.

I don”t stop. I don”t think. I plow into him like a raging bull, knocking him off his feet. He goes sprawling across the tiles.

”You motherfucker!” I roar, flipping him onto his back. My fist connects with his face in a sickening crunch.

”Jesus, Troy!” he cries, bringing his hands up as if to protect himself, but I don”t give him the opportunity. My fist connects with his face again and then again, blood pouring from his nose.

I shake my hand out, my knuckles bleeding and screaming in pain. I barely feel them as Samson groans.

”You tried to shoot her while she was asleep and defenseless,” I snarl, wrapping my hand around his throat and shaking him like a ragdoll. ”Is she alive? Tell me now!”

”Y-yes,” he wheezes, his face turning red and then purple from lack of oxygen.

The red haze clouding my vision creeps back an inch. For the first time in two days, I take a breath. And then I remember the blood on that scrap of her dress. The thought chokes me, and I tighten my grip once more.

”What did you do to her?” I demand, enjoying the way panic washes through his eyes as he struggles to breathe. He deserves to know what it feels like to fear for his life. That”s what he did to her. He deserves to feel like he”ll never breathe again. That”s how I”ve felt for two fucking days.

”Let him breathe, Troy.” My father places his hand on my shoulder. I didn”t even know he was behind me. ”Let him breathe so he can answer you.”

I loosen my grip only slightly.

Samson sucks in a rattling breath.

”What did you do to her?” I growl again, impatient for the answer, even knowing it may destroy me.

”N-nothing, Troy,” he wheezes. ”I swear, I didn”t do anything.”

”You fucking liar. You took her from me. There was blood on her dress.”

”I didn”t touch her!” he cries, fear raging like a storm in his eyes. ”I swear to you, I didn”t! She cut her arm on a branch.”

”She didn”t leave on her own. She wouldn”t.”

”I t-told her that you wanted her dead,” he rasps, his voice shaking as he tries to suck in air and speak through the small amount of space I”ve allowed him. ”She said that if I let her live, she”d leave and never return.”

”You told her that I ordered you to kill her,” I say, pure murder dripping from every word. For the second time in as many minutes, I cut off his air supply, the urge to kill him overwhelming.

The sorry son of a bitch didn”t just try to take her life, he broke her heart before he did it. He shattered every ounce of trust she had in me. Everything we had together, everything we were, he destroyed in one cruel act. And then he sent her into the forest, alone and unprotected.

”Troy, let him breathe.”

For two days, she”s been out there by herself, believing that I betrayed and tried to murder her. She”s been out there all alone, scared to death. Cold. Hungry.

”Troy! Let him breathe!”

It takes everything I have to pry my fingers from his throat.

My fucking soul is breaking. I don”t give a damn about his betrayal. He is no friend of mine. Not any longer. But she”s out there alone, vulnerable, possibly injured.

I can”t stand it.

Christ, I can”t stand it.

”Why?” I snarl, my eyes locked on him. ”Why, Samson, goddamn you?”

”D-didn”t know,” he gasps. ”D-d-didn”t k-know w-who she w-was. T-thought you were g-going to abdicate for her.”

My own stupidity slams into me like a freight train.

Jesus. This is my fault. I went to him for advice. I told him where she was and what I was planning. Had I just kept my mouth shut—had I never trusted him—none of this would have happened. I set the ball in motion, and this is the result.

He tried to get rid of her to force me into doing what he thought was best for Stonehaven. I thought my father was ruthless and power-hungry, but Samson was the enemy all along. He was willing to murder an innocent woman to ensure I fell in line. And I have no one to blame for trusting him but myself.

”I should kill you right here and now.” I stare at him in disgust. ”The only reason I don”t is because of her. Because I made a promise to her that I intend to keep. Tell me where she is so they can drag your miserable ass out of my sight before I change my mind.”

”An abandoned mine in Fable Forest,” he says, closing his eyes. ”She”s been staying there.”

Yet again, I have to fight the urge to kill him. He knows that mine. It”s abandoned for a reason—a group of miners died in it several years ago when a portion of it collapsed. And yet, he”s let her stay there, knowing how dangerous it is.

Is there no depth he”s not willing to sink to? No sin he isn”t willing to commit? Once upon a time, despite his flaws, he was a man of honor, someone I respected.

Now, he”s not someone I want to know at all.

I shove him away from me, knocking his head against the floor as I clamber to my feet. My wild eyes meet my father”s. ”Take his sorry ass to the tower,” I growl, striding away. ”He can fucking rot there. I”m going to get my princess.”