The Curse of the Seelie King

The Curse of the Seelie King OUR TWISTED FATES BOOK ONE CHLOE EVERHART Copyright © 2023 by Chloe Everhart All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. Cover Design by Maria Spada For those with dreams they refuse to give up. Contents Prologue 1. Roselyne 2. Declan 3. Roselyne 4. Declan 5. Roselyne 6. Declan 7. Roselyne 8. Declan 9. Roselyne 10. Roselyne 11. Declan 12. Roselyne 13. Roselyne 14. Declan 15. Roselyne 16. Roselyne 17. Declan 18. Declan 19. Roselyne 20. Roselyne 21. Declan 22. Roselyne 23. Roselyne 24. Declan 25. Declan 26. Roselyne 27. Declan 28. Roselyne 29. Declan 30. Declan 31. Roselyne 32. Declan 33. Roselyne 34. Roselyne 35. Declan 36. Roselyne 37. Roselyne 38. Declan 39. Roselyne 40. Roselyne 41. Declan 42. Roselyne 43. Roselyne 44. Declan 45. Roselyne 46. Declan 47. Roselyne 48. Declan 49. Roselyne 50. Roselyne 51. Declan 52. Roselyne 53. Declan 54. Roselyne 55. Declan 56. Roselyne 57. Roselyne 58. Declan 59. Roselyne 60. Roselyne About the Author Content Warnings This book contains dark themes including: bone breaking, death in childbirth (mentioned), death of a parent (mentioned), genocide (mentioned), gore, kidnapping, mature language, misogyny, murder, possessive male love interest, self-harm, sexual harassment (no depictions of rape), sexually explicit scenes, suicide, thalassophia, violence * * * If you believe I’m missing a specific warning, please contact me. I want everyone to enjoy The Curse of the Seelie King safely and with the most accurate information possible. 1 Roselyne The King of Althene’s dark eyes narrowed from across the table, watching and assessing me for the most important trait a daughter should possess—obedience. “Do you understand, Roselyne?” my father asked quietly. It wasn’t truly a question. A command lingered between his words. The entire table averted their eyes, instead opting to pierce their roasted carrots and pheasant with their forks. Their silence was their complicity in my death. I ground my teeth and dug my fingers into the hard wood of the dining table to bite back a scream. The wood gave way as my nails carved tiny half-moons into the veneer, my knuckles white and nails threatening to split. I nodded once and fought against the tears that threatened to spill over my cheeks. With this betrothal, my father set me up for a life of pain and suffering, all to strengthen his own seat as the King of Althene. He’d marry me to a monster for gold. I forced away the unshed tears. Marrying for love was never an expectation for me. My power as a princess didn’t lie in the swing of an ax or the clanging of steel in battle. I was no conqueror. Instead, any semblance of influence I wielded stemmed solely from what my marriage would grant a neighboring kingdom. Like all women of nobility, I was tasked to birth future kings, and nothing more. I’d made my peace with this reality years ago after one crushing heartbreak, but what my father was now insisting would mean my death. My father droned on, the rest of his words and explanation drowned out by a dull buzzing in my ears. Panic filled me as his meaning sank true and took root in my chest, choking me. My eyes flicked around the table, searching for someone to come to my aid. It was crucial that someone to speak some sense into the king—but my father’s advisors were all puppets, and my two brothers would not meet my eyes. Cowards. My father’s stern voice broke through the haze of my barraging thoughts, and my gaze snapped back to him. He dabbed at his mouth with a pristine napkin as he spoke, entirely missing the brown grease at the corners of his lips. “Be prepared to leave in two weeks. Part of my guard and an emissary will escort you to the faelands through the Northern Ice Passage. By the faeland’s first snowfall of the season, you will be the fae king’s bride, and Althene will prosper for it.” He turned back to face his advisors, and it was done. My father’s attention was elsewhere, and I was betrothed to the King of the Seelie Fae. The Ruthless King. I shuddered. The Seelie King was infamous among the human kingdoms for his cruelty. Knowing this, my father still promised me to this monster. What use could a fae king have for a human bride? My corset was too tight, and my breaths too rapid and shallow. The room began to spin. With shaking hands, I brought my wineglass to my lips, but did not swallow. My stomach churned uncomfortably, as if snakes slithered inside me, squeezing my lungs and waiting to burst forth from my chest. My chair screeched against the tile as I pushed up from my seat, desperate to expand my lungs in a bid for more air. My wine goblet slipped from my hands and shattered against the floor in thousands of tiny shards. Everyone at the table snapped their gaze to me as burgundy liquid pooled against the cream-colored tile. Two servants silently rushed forward, cleaning the mess. “I cannot marry the Ruthless King!” I pleaded in some desperate attempt to my father. My voice was shrill and sounded far away. My hands shook, sweaty where they clasped the edge of the large wooden table. A different liquid splashed onto the tile, swirling and mixing with the spilled wine. I winced at the sight of blood blossoming along a slice down my palm. My father’s face flashed with anger before he schooled it back to his expressionless mask, ever the dutiful monarch of Althene. “You can, and you will,” he said simply before drinking deeply from his goblet, throat bobbing with every swallow of the wine. “I accepted the fae king’s terms