Page 175 of Settle Down, Princess

He nudged his horse forward, but the beast wasn’t going any closer to the stag, especially when the buck started to brandish its antlers.

“Your argument is with me, Magnus.”

The Duke and Arik arrived on the scene, and the intrusion of more horses, more men, definitely didn’t improve the stag’s mood. It lunged at Magnus’ steed, forcing it to wheel backwards, and my heart leapt as I saw part of the girth strap start to sag.

“You should not be here, Usurper,” Magnus snarled, with all the rage he’d been forced to keep stamped down. “Fallspire, have this bastard removed from the hunt. I did not give him leave to join us.”

“But I did.”

Devil came to a stop, eyeing the stag but apparently unfazed by the other animal. The Duke leaned forward in his saddle and regarded the scene before him with a steady eye, noting Jessalyn, Silas, and my presence.

“My ‘brother’ has no place here!” The thin edge to Magnus’ voice made clear his weakness. He had no ability to command on his own, relying on his power base of aristocratic toadies and guards to ensure his will was done and he’d recklessly left every one of them behind. “He is a bastard, not born of noble blood—”

“You’ve got blue blood alright,” the Duke drawled, staring at the king. “Just none that belongs to the royal house of Khean. You manage to kill that stag.” He nodded to the beast that stood between us and them. “That’s an act of treason. Your lady mother knew the Raven had supplied the king with evidence of your true birth.”

I glanced at Silas then, raising an eyebrow in question, but he just shook his head, making clear this was news to him.

“She faced trial for her crimes—” the duke continued.

“My mother died…” For just a second, I felt a moment of sympathy for the king. He was falling apart, but he couldn’t see it. His eyes were too wide, his chin quivering as he said those words, his whole chest working to suck air in. I watched his hand shake as he pointed at Arik. “She took her own life rather than be so dishonoured by her own husband. The old king’s head had been turned by your falsehoods.” He stabbed a finger into the air. “You killed my stag. You tried to take my throne. You lied to my father—”

“My father,” Arik drawled, but then his eyes slid sideways to an empty space between him, looking at something I couldn’t see. “Yours was Sir Matthias, or was it Sir Jern, Fallspire?”

“That was never confirmed,” the duke replied mildly. “Both men died while being tortured and refused to confirm who the father was. We assumed they didn’t know or actually loved that viper the king married.”

His focus shifted to Magnus, his gaze flat and steady.

“The evidence was incontrovertible. I saw each piece myself. There were witnesses, verifiable documents, but rather than allow any of that to be aired in the law courts, the queen used you to enact the next stage of her plan. You gave her the knife so she could slit her throat. Her blood is on your hands. Hers and all the other women, along with my Ariel. If you hadn’t stolen my daughter in the dead of night to be used as hostage, you know a civil war would’ve broken out. The true-born heir to the king would’ve taken the throne.” He nodded to Arik. “And you would’ve been executed as the treasonous bastard we all know you to be.”

I’d seen the king fly into manic rages for far less, so watching him sit tall in his saddle, a slow smile forming, was far more frightening. The leather wrapped around my hilt creaked as my fingers sank into it.

“She cried so prettily, did you know that? I’ve… played with so many girls, but none as decorous as your daughter.”

“Jessalyn…” I hissed, trying to catch the princess’ attention. “We need to get clear of here.”

She didn’t heed me, because of course she didn’t. I didn’t understand what it was to be blue blooded, but there seemed to be this terrible carelessness about people of that class. It was as if they expected the world to bend to their needs, or, at the very least, pick them up if they fell. Instead, her eyes burned as she took this exchange in.

“We need to get her out of here,” I told Silas.

“We need the truth.” He was apparently infected by the same madness the others were, watching the exchange with rapt attention while standing behind a bloody stag.

“Most girls’ skins get all red and blotchy when they start weeping,” Magnus said, and that’s when I saw it, Jessalyn doing the exact same thing. “Their noses especially. Each tear seems to burn to track down their cheeks, ruining them entirely. That’s when I need to make them scream, make all the ugliness inside them come out because my fun is over, but your Ariel—”

“You were supposed to make her queen,” the duke growled, and that’s when Magnus smiled. He’d scored a point, found a point of weakness. “She was to bear the next king. That was the agreement.”

“I made her queen,” the king said smugly. “I raised her up and all of the lords who could be swayed to my side with greater grants of lands.” His teeth gleamed in the sunlight. “Taken from those lords who refused to bend the knee. I put a golden coronet on her head, and then I…”

I didn’t want to hear this, that I knew. What had happened to the Lady of Fallspire had been discussed at length. Ariel was beautiful, everything you expect in a queen. The people of Cheapside had flocked to the procession that led from the palace to the grand nave, waving madly as she passed, ready for her coronation. Her funeral, by comparison, was a rushed affair, with not even an open casket for the people to view. The whispers were that no undertaker’s craft could make up for what the king had done to the queen.

“And then I broke her into a million beautiful pieces, like a smashed piece of fine crystal ware.” His gaze snapped upwards, and when his eyes zeroed in on Jessalyn, I let out a low growl. “Just as I will this princess.”

Magnus yanked viciously on the horse’s reins, his focus shifting to the stag. His mount resisted, whinnying, pulling on the bridle, fighting the king’s insistence that he draw closer to the stag. His sword waved around like a flag in the wind, his whole body straining, trying to master the horse, his weapon, this entire battle, and proving with every second that he wasn’t up to the task. The horse’s instincts seemed to overrule its training, tension thrumming in its body. It dodged to this side and that, each motion forcing the razor deeper into the girth strap, the king now fighting to keep his seat, not fight the stag. I watched the horse rear up, hooves pawing the air, right before its whole body tensed and then bucked, sending the king flying off the horse’s back, his saddle flying with him, only to land with a thud on the ground.

I couldn’t watch the stag, the king’s horse, anything as I stared at the still body of the king. My silent prayers came thick and fast, promising to kill a fatted calf in honour of the gods if Magnus didn’t get up. Plenty of people died when thrown from horseback. A broken neck, a severed spine would do it, even a broken rib that sliced into his lungs, any one of those things would do.

“Is he…?” Jessalyn asked, peering over my shoulders.

“Just stay back, lass,” I urged. “No more petting stags, and you stay clear of the king, because…”

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