Page 124 of Kingdom of Crowns and Daggers

Climbing shakily to her feet, she uses the wall behind her to keep herself steady, wrapping the blanket around her shoulders like a stole. She may be in a jail cell, but she’s still determined to look her best. She’s wearing the same dress she was when she was arrested. It must be uncomfortable, although from the odd shaping of the bodice, it looks like she removed the corset beneath it.

Clearing her throat, she brushes her hands down her skirts, taking her time before slowly turning to us. “Well, well,” she begins, her voice scratchy from disuse. “Look who has deigned to see me.”

Joha stares down at her, his body tight with tension, yet I can tell he’s trying not to show any reaction to seeing her for the first time since she was arrested.

“It has been several days since your arrest. Are you being treated well?”

This is typical Joha, checking that she’s being looked after despite the fact that she killed his father and attempted to kill him. I would not extend such courtesy.

“Has it only been that long? It feels far longer.” She appears mournful, releasing a long sigh as she leans against the wall for support. “Are you here to let me out so we can move past all this silliness?”

A laugh escapes me. I knew she was conniving, but this is a whole new level I didn’t think she was capable of. Ignoring me completely, Constance keeps her gaze on Joha, waiting for his reply.

Joha simply stares at her, shaking his head at the audacity of it all. “You killed my father, and you have tried to have me killed on multiple occasions. You cannot talk your way out of this. We have proof, so there is no point in trying to deny it. I know you believe I am a weak fool, but you cannot think I will let you go.”

As he stands up to her and shows how he has grown without her constantly putting him down, he finally looks like a king. He no longer has to hide his intelligence or interest in ruling the land for fear of her killing him, and without constantly having to pretend, he is growing into the person he always should have been.

Constance realises this too, knowing she no longer has control over him and cannot talk her way out of jail. In a flash, she loses the mournful expression, her face transforming into a snarl as she stalks forward and grips the bars that separate them.

“The throne should have gone to me,” she growls, looking more animal than human, her knuckles white from gripping the bars with such force. Orion steps forward, ready to jump between them despite the barrier keeping Constance back.

“I know you believe that, but that is not how things work. You could never rule. You are not family.” Somehow, Joha is able to keep his temper in check as he talks to his would-be killer. There is a glimmer in his eyes, though, that tells me he’s finally seeing the other side of her.

“If you died before having an heir, the throne would have gone to me!” Hatred practically oozes from her, her sense of self-righteousness clear. She feels like she has been cheated out of what should have been hers. “After your father died, I realised I could manipulate you into agreeing to my whims. You were young and didn’t know enough, so I was able to mould you.” Her gaze suddenly turns to me, even though her words are still aimed at Joha. “However, you grew up and started to have ideas of your own. I needed you out of the way. Things only got worse when she arrived.”

There it is, the confession we need. However, I have something to say that Constance needs to hear, something I have been looking forward to telling her since the day I met her.

I place my hand on Joha’s shoulder, silently asking for permission. He glances at me, emotion brimming in his eyes, and I can see this is a good time for me to take over and give him some time to collect himself. Nodding, he takes a step back so I can move closer.

Looking at the woman who has caused so much pain, I am unable to hold back the air of smugness that surrounds me. “Do you know who I really am, Constance?”

She scowls and releases the bars, taking a step back in an attempt to compose herself. Her eyes run over me critically, and she purses her lips as she clearly finds me lacking.

“You are not a princess, of that I am sure.”

I want to laugh at her prim assessment of me, quite certain that she is trying to insult me with her words. If I were a lady, this might wound me, but she has no idea how lowly I am in comparison.

Clasping my hands in front of me, I tilt my head to one side and let the mask of the king’s betrothed drop so the cold, calculating killer rises to the surface. “I am an assassin. Joha hired me to help protect him because someone was trying to kill him. I adopted the position as his betrothed and helped him regain some of his power that you stole.”

Constance pales, yet I get the impression it’s not due to her fear of me. Instead, she seems more offended by the fact I am no lady from a noble house.

“An assassin!” she exclaims, turning her outrage to her stepson. “Is that how far you have fallen, Joha? Your father would be disgusted.”

Finally losing control over his temper, he storms forward and confronts her, furiously jabbing his finger in her direction.

“Do not speak of my father, you witch,” he snaps, taking her by surprise. This is certainly not the placid, easily manipulated man she thought she knew. Widening his stance, he gestures towards me. “I love this woman, and she has helped bring peace to the kingdom, something you were determined to destroy. I think my father would be happy with my choices.” He takes a deep breath. “Alyx, you had some questions.”

He steps back to allow me to move forward, but I can see his body shaking, showing just how much all of this is affecting him. This is the woman who murdered his father, and he is only just getting the chance to properly grieve that fact.

I want to get him out of here as quickly as possible, away from the woman who tore apart his remaining family so he can begin to heal. Clearing my throat, I wait for Constance’s attention to return to me.

“What do you know about the deaths of the Stormhallow family?” I ask calmy, not wanting to show my hand just yet.

“Stormhallow?” She frowns, scrunching her nose in confusion. “They died years ago, before my husband’s death.”

“You mean your husband’s murder,” Orion corrects, his voice low with anger.

“They were the former king’s biggest supporters, and they mysteriously all died in a fire,” I continue, not about to leave without answers. “You and I both know it wasn’t an accident. Tell me what you know.” Despite my heart pounding in my chest, I am able to keep my voice even yet firm. This is an order, not a request.

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