Page 96 of The Mad King and the False Queen

Dagmara felt a wash of uneasiness as she stared at the blackbird. Its beady eyes pierced her soul, almost mocking her.

“Sabien,” Dagmara said, “I think it’s time Reon returned to the party. Could you escort him?”

Reon’s eyes narrowed. He followed her gaze over his shoulder, unable to see the bird in the window, before looking at Sabien, confusion plastered on his face.

“That’s inconsiderate, Princess,” Claude said, looking up at her. His tone was strained, attempting not to argue in front of their guest. He was still angry at her for something, though she couldn’t determine what.

Dagmara felt a pit in her stomach. “Martine,” she ordered, raising her voice.

Martine passed Sabien, coming to stand beside Dagmara. “Yes, Princess?”

“Take Reon back to the party.”

The room was strung with tension. Everyone remained utterly still, waiting for Claude to give the final word.

Then the blackbird let out a caw, its tone like a nail to Dagmara’s temple. She winced, nearly covering her ears. Everyone saw Claude snap his head in the direction of the window, his demeanor shifting from annoyance to violence. He gripped the table, the papers on the desk crumpling under his fingers.

“Now, Martine,” Dagmara commanded.

Suddenly on alert, Martine rushed forward, taking Reon by the arm. “This way, sir.”

The blackbird took flight into the room, sweeping across the study toward a bookshelf on the opposite side. Claude covered his face, dropping behind the desk moments before the blackbird flew past his head.

The king picked up a chair, chucking it toward the bookshelf. It shattered against the shelf in an alarming snap, books and papers flying everywhere. “Get out!” Claude yelled. The bird gracefully flew from the top of the bookcase, rounding the outside of the room, sounding another ear-piercing screech.

Reon glanced over his shoulder. “Your Majesty?” he called in shock. Martine yanked him out of the room, and they disappeared into the corridor.

The bird would not land, circling the room like it was circling prey. It dove for Dagmara, and she didn’t have a chance to defend herself in time. It raked its claws down her cheek, and an excruciating sting pierced her skin.

She grabbed her cheek, but there was no blood. There was no mark. Her skin was perfectly smooth. Was this all a trick of the mind too?

The bird dove for the king next, and Claude raised both hands, igniting the walls in flame.

Dagmara braced herself, collapsing to the ground and covering her face with her arms. The entire perimeter of the room was engulfed in flames. Fire stretched up the walls as though they were trapped in a circle.

But there was no heat. It was all a trick of the mind. He was trying to defend himself from the blackbird. She touched her cheek once more, feeling no mark. Was the blackbird real or an illusion?

“Your Majesty!” she called. This needed to end.

That’s when someone grabbed her under the arms and lifted her to her feet. Sabien was pulling her toward the exit.

“Let go of me!” Dagmara screeched, yanking out of his grip.

The blackbird swooped toward Claude, threatening to peck out his eyes. Claude ducked once more before grabbing a broken leg of the chair and chucking it toward the soaring bird. It whizzed past Dagmara, clattering against the fiery wall, but never ignited.

“Claude, stop!” she pleaded.

Sabien wrapped his arm around her waist, picking her up. She couldn’t fight him as he dragged her from the room and slammed the door behind them. He pressed her against the wall, blocking her from making an escape.

“You can’t stop him when he turns into this,” Sabien said.

Dagmara was trapped between his chest and the stone wall behind her. She could hear Claude’s screams from inside the study and the crashing of more furniture.

“How did you know?” Sabien asked.

She wasn’t listening to him. Her breathing was ragged as she cupped her cheek with her hand. Nothing. The bird left no mark even though she had felt the pain. She could still feel the pain.

Sabien grabbed her chin and yanked her head to look at him. “How did you know he was turning?”

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