Page 29 of Wrath of the Never Queen

Hold your tongue, Shivani.

I remain perfectly still, each muscle frozen in place. Eventually, the king sits back and uncurls his fist. He takes another messy drink of his wine. It leaks down the side of his mouth and leaves a blood-red trail from the corner of his lips into his fair beard.

“This is where you come in.” The king flashes me an unsettling smile. I lower my eyes. “You and all the other volunteers.”

Goosebumps spring up along the back of my neck and I can hear the blood rushing in my ears.

“To break the curse?” My voice wavers despite my best efforts.

The king gives a humourless laugh.

“Truth be told, I do not believe this curse can be broken.”

The floor falls away from beneath me. The dress, which had been so comfortable before, becomes stifling.

“But…” My mind struggles to formulate the words. “You told us true love could break it. You said so on the day the queen died.”

“Well, yes. Spirits were very low that day, you understand. Part of being a king is knowing what little white lies are necessary to keep the peace.”

I gape at him.

“But why ask for volunteers? Why keep ushere?”

He looks at me as though I am stupid.

“She came from you. A commoner. I need to keep this village in check somehow and what could be a moredeliciouspunishment than ensuring the rest of you common girls are pruned?”

The air leaves my lungs. I try to breathe but my vision tunnels, darkening at the edges. His words ring in my head like a high-pitched squeal.

“But…” I trail off, my mouth opening and closing.

I have been a naïve fool. The curse is unbreakable. We have been sent here to die, every one of us. I think of how my chambers are devoid of anything I could use to escape, even the shoddy ledge outside the window. Strategically placed to eliminate any chance of leaving. I think of the bloody chopping block in the village centre.

Nausea overcomes me, and I stand abruptly. The king looks up at me, curious but not alarmed.

“This is a death sentence,” I croak. I place my hands flat on the table to steady myself. My legs are weak.

“Speak up, girl,” the king replies with irritation. The sickness in my stomach curdles into rage.

“You…you…” I squeeze my eyes shut and pushback against the violent wrath hammering in my mind. Myophidis blazing and I desperately want to reach out to it. To raze this whole castle to the ground and the king with it.

“Go on.” He sits back and raises his eyebrows, a smug smile on his face. “Spit it out.”

I manage to pry my fingers open from where they had been balled into fists. They shake, but I stand firm. The guards ready themselves, and I know I have only one course of action.

“I will break it,” I say.

“What?”

“I will break the curse.”

Silence lays, thick as marsh water. The king throws back his head and laughs.

“You are most welcome to try! After all, each one before you has tried and now their pretty heads decorate the foundations of my castle.”

I think about picking up my dinner plate and launching it at his face. I have bitten my tongue so often now my mouth tastes of blood. When I smile, it is murderous.

“I have four months. True love may not break it, but something will.”

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