The Foxglove King (The Nightshade Crown #1)

by Hannah F. Whitten

“I didn’t want to leave,” he said finally. “Last night. I didn’t want to stop.” Her fingers twitched, half a reach. She clenched them tight. “Then why did you?” His eye flickered away. “Because it didn’t feel… right, being with you. It felt dangerous. Something I should get away from while I had the strength to do it.”

“It felt like a mistake, but one I’d made before. One I knew would end badly.”

“I know you.” Bastian said it like a sentencing. “And you know me. Why is that, Lore? Why does it seem like I’ve always known you?”

“Got you,” he chuckled. Lore shoved a hand between his shoulder blades. “Fuck you.” “I thought we talked about asking nicely.”

“But what’s killing them pales in comparison with what August is planning to do with them,” Anton continued. “He plans to use them as an army. An army that cannot be defeated.” He looked to Lore. “But it’s an army that you now control, Lore. That’s why we led you to the catacombs tonight, before the eclipse ball. So that you could take control of the armies of the dead before August could.”

“And yet.” The dance ended; they stood motionless, still locked together. “You’re stuck with me. Whatever comes next.”

“It’s what the goddess dreamed, but I thought I could prevent it. I thought you would choose the world over yourself.” “I’m far too selfish for that,” Lore whispered.

Almost like a Queen. Some of them called her that. She’d heard it whispered—the poison queen, the hemlock queen, the deathwitch queen. The court loved a nickname, apparently.