Page 80 of The Princess's Chosen

I stepped back and turned to Cresswell, relieved as his eyes met mine squarely.

"An execution? I'll take care of him myself," he said, shoulders squared and chin high.

"No. I'm not doing this as princess, but as King of Thieves. It has to be my own hand. Send a man down to Rumsbrooke and tell Griffin to call the court together tonight," I said, heading for the door.

Cresswell followed quickly, and we passed the young guard, Stanley, on his way back to watch Emory.

"Your Highness—Bryony wait," Cresswell hissed, reaching for my elbow.

I yanked it away from his hand and glared at him over my shoulder, trying to smooth my expression when he reared back. I pointed up the stairs, and Cresswell relaxed and nodded, following me up and waiting to speak whatever was on his mind until we were out of earshot.

"Bryony, you can't do this yourself," Cresswell murmured as we moved together into an empty hall.

"I absolutely can," I said, standing as straight and tall as I could after a night of sleeplessness and anger and worry all boiling together.

Cresswell frowned and looked around before catching my waist in his hands and pulling me into a room that must've been someone's study at one point. His touch was scorching, or my skin rebelled at his grasp, and I pulled free.

"No, listen to me. This is different than you defending yourself last night," Cresswell said, keeping his voice low, even as we were alone. "Emory's no threat to you right now. Not the way he was last night."

"Cresswell—"

"I know you can do it, physically, but I'm telling you—"

"Itmustbe done."

"Don't do this to yourself!" Cresswell growled. "It's not a satisfying act, Bryony!"

The day was cloudy, and the grounds outside the narrow window were coated in a layer of what was either fog or smoke, or some combination of the two. The room was gray and cold, small enough that there wasn't really anywhere for me to turn or pull away to.

"Bryony, please."

"I have to do it myself, in front of them, or there will be a constant line of men trying to find a way to sneak in and finish what Emory couldn't," I said. My arms wrapped around my waist as Cresswell stepped forward again, hands stretched out to clasp me. I resisted his touch, every word passing between us making the beast of rage inside of me rise up, grow impatient and harder to contain.

"You should never have—"

"But I did. I am King of Thieves, and I don't intend to step down until I know that the position has been of some use. This has to be done. I have to do it. No one else."

"But—"

"I want to!" I shouted, a growl in my throat.

My hands struck out in fists at Cresswell's chest, forcing him back a step, his eyes wide with shock. I shuddered and turned to the window, covering my face. I released a long breath, trying to rein in the thick and jagged energy burning through me. I needed it for tonight, more than this argument with Cresswell.

"Very well," Cresswell said softly. It wasn't a placating tone, more resigned or restrained.

"Send a man to Rumsbrooke," I said.

"Yes, Your Highness."

He left me in the room, alone with myself and trapped with the brutal animal still prowling inside of me.

* * *

"Why aren'tyou saying anything? You're the only one of us she'll listen to," Thao snarled at Aric.

If telling Cresswell of my intention to execute Emory publicly and by my own hand had gone poorly, it was nothing to telling my Chosen. The only two who had yet to give a thorough objection were Aric and Daniel.

I stared at Daniel now. We'd already discussed this, my intent to kill Emory, but I wondered if he changed his mind in the face of what was hypothetical now becoming true. But he met my gaze fully, with less of his old calculation and this time with more awareness…or understanding. He nodded at me, grave but accepting. He was still mine, in whatever small way I'd claimed him so far.

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