Page 23 of Clash of Kingdoms

There was a long line of Teeth, so it took quite a while to reach the front, and across the stream we spotted it—a red tent. All the others were black, but this one stood out not just for its color, but also its size.

We were lucky we’d arrived when we did. If we’d gotten here a day later, we would have missed the chance altogether.

Huntley crossed the stream first, which only went to his knees, and I followed close behind, the water loud enough to cover our movement. We reached the opposite shore without arousing suspicion then hunched down behind another tent as we surveyed the situation.

There were two guards on duty, on either side of the tent flaps.

I couldn’t speak, not when the occupants of the tent might hear me, so I gestured with my hand, slicing it across my throat.

Huntley nodded, understanding this had to be a stealth kill. He gestured for me to travel around the back of the tent to surprise the guard on the other side. Once the plan was made, we broke apart and made our move.

When I came around the side, Huntley emerged with his dagger and sliced it clean across the guard’s neck.

I did the same, catching the body before it fell and made a loud thud.

We dragged both of the bodies away from the tent and into a pile of bushes. In daylight, they would be easy to see, but in the darkness, it was easy to overlook them completely.

Huntley took the lead for the tent, his shoulders swaying with adrenaline, the anger in his chest so potent, it seemed like he’d never been angrier.

I didn’t have an opportunity to sheathe his anger, to tell him to be quiet—not when he was a man on a mission to exact revenge for his stolen daughter.

We entered through the flaps, and the inside of the tent was illuminated by a couple of candles. The tent was luxurious enough for a king, with a real mattress on a frame, rugs across the floor so Rancor wouldn’t have to step on the bare dirt. There was a desk, and he sat there, paying more attention to the scroll in his hand than the visitors who’d just come into his tent.

“Yes?” he asked coldly, having no idea he spoke to Huntley, the King of Kingdoms, not the lowly guard positioned outside in the dark. When he didn’t get a response, his eyes lifted in annoyance.

But in an instant, all the annoyance disappeared, replaced by the deepest plunge of terror I’d ever felt. He stilled at the desk and sucked in a quick breath in astonishment. His stare continued, like he couldn’t believe his own eyes. He was about to scream out in fear…I could feel it.

I moved behind him and pressed my dagger right against his throat, close enough to prick the skin.

The words he was about to scream died on his tongue.

“Scream—and it’s the last thing you’ll ever do.” I withdrew the knife then remained behind Rancor. My arms crossed over my chest, and my thumb played with the hilt of my dagger, slowly dragging it down to feel the cool metal. I wanted to kill him myself for taking Harlow, but that would be a bit hypocritical. If anything, I should thank Rancor. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have her now. But once I returned to my lands with a broken heart, perhaps I’d wish I’d never met her.

Huntley pulled out the chair across from Rancor and took a seat.

Rancor immediately sat back and left the scroll on the desk, trying to get as far away from Huntley as possible without actually leaving the seat.

Huntley held up his bloody dagger for Rancor to see then placed it on the desk between them.

Rancor glanced down at it but didn’t dare take it.

Huntley stared at him for a long time, his eyes wide open and unblinking, his stare so angry smoke practically came from his ears. His expression was formidable, but it was nothing compared to the rage that stormed inside his chest. “Did you really think I wouldn’t hunt you down to the edges of the world?” For a man so angry, he spoke calmly, but that made the tension tauter. “That I wouldn’t fantasize about this moment in my waking hours, dream about it in my deepest sleep, imagine your blood on my axe.”

Rancor’s back rose and fell with his labored breaths. His expression was hard with indifference, but his quick breathing gave away his terror.

“You thought I would kill you with my sword?” He cocked his head. “This little dagger between us? No, Rancor. I’m going to chop your head into little pieces the way my wife slices meat before she throws it in the frying pan.”

Rancor glanced down at the dagger between them and swallowed.

Huntley leaned forward.

Rancor immediately jerked, his nerves wired.

The corner of Huntley’s mouth rose in a smile as he rested his arms on the table. “I granted you mercy, Rancor. I could have massacred your entire race, but I let you be. In my attempt to be a just king, I became a stupid one. A hard lesson learned, a failure I’ll never repeat.”

Rancor stayed quiet.

“You’ve been plotting this a long time, haven’t you?”

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