Page 83 of The Princess's Chosen

"Do I need to address the visiting courts?" I whispered to Griffin.

"Not for the sake of politeness, but they weren't really invited. My guess is they won't expect you to notice, so if you want to call them out on it, it'll make you look sharp."

I nodded and took one tall step up with effort to rise to the platform, keeping my eye on the audience rather than the man crumpled between my guard and my Chosen. Thao looked surprisingly well suited to the thieves' court. His sleeves were rolled up to expose the dark tattoos covering one arm, and he'd tied his hair back, a few dark strands falling loose. His inukat hung over one shoulder, and he kept his face set and firm as I approached, rather than full of the sympathy and worry that the rest of my Chosen wore. We knew our roles, Thao and I. I'd learned mine from my grandmother perhaps, how to be hard and immoveable. I wonder if she craved the liberty to falter the way I now did.

I stepped in front of Emory to the edge of the platform, close enough for Cosmo or Owen to reach out and touch my skirt, but I kept my gaze over their heads, staring out and studying the faces looking back at me until the impatient conversation grew stale and quiet with curiosity. Men and women—mostly men—watched me. I'd won a few friends the night I'd grabbed the crown, and they were there in the mix, but the overwhelming number of eyes looking back at me were suspicious, wary, or outright hateful. Tonight would either tame them or stir up new animosity.

"It appears I called my court together and have received unexpected guests as well," I said, just loud enough to carry into rafters and bounce to those who hovered at the back, watching from the shadows. A few chuckles rose up, more nervous stirring.

"It also appears that in spite of my position as your king, and the undeniable claim I have on the crown, there are those of you who would seek to help unseat me," I called out more clearly over the stirring. I stepped to the side and gestured back at Emory. "For the man who lost his own crown bymychallenge!"

A few supporters cried out in the mix. Another man shouted, "Worry about your own crown, sweetheart, and leave us ours!" He received an almost equal amount of cheering. But the majority of the men and women remained watching me, eyes narrowed, waiting to see what I would do.

"If anyone else doubts my right to rule, my ability toserveyou all and your interests, or my strength," I said, stepping slowly and deliberately along the edge of the platform. "Then you may have my crown, but only by my own hand."

A puzzled silence followed, and I marched back to stand behind Emory between Cress and Thao.

"Just as Emory will now have my crown," I said, reaching up to my hair and gently taking out the wreath of leaves as frowning faces watched on.

I wrapped my fist into the wreath, ignored the dull bite of the combs against my palm. My other hand took a mean grip of Emory's hair, and he laughed uncomfortably, voice wet and eyes bloodshot as I yanked roughly, exposing his throat to my audience.

"You won't," he said, grinning at me. Someone had knocked two teeth loose, and his nose was crooked now. I almost felt sorry for him.

Aric. Owen. The stable. My life. Myrightto rule.

"I will," I said softly.

I nodded, and Cresswell and Thao stepped back. Emory tried to pull away, but either he wasn't strong enough or he really didn't see it in me—the starving creature made of rage and fire.

And in truth, there was a moment where I wondered if I would change my mind. Griffin was on my right, Cress and Thao my left. Any one of them would've done it for me, gladly.

I raised the crown of blades in my hand and someone beyond the platform gasped one small 'oh' before it came down in an arc, snarling and biting and dragging through Emory's throat, chewing from one side to the other. There was a spray, little bright flecks of red dressing over his chin, but I watched his eyes and the genuine surprise there as warmth rushed over my hand. He jerked in my grip, and finally it flickered, a little second of horror.

And then he began to fade.

26

Owen

Ikept my eyes on her, my mistress. Cosmo groaned and turned away, and Aric made a soft grunt of pain, but I only watched her.

Her fist held Emory up beyond the last second he was able to do so himself, and his greasy strands slid slowly out of her fingers a few beats later. She looked up from the body at her feet; her hand, crown, and wrist coated in red that dripped to the wooden boards. She looked over the heads of us all, a little lost I thought, but also cold and firm, enough to fool those who didn't know her better.

Those who didn't know her sweetness and gentleness, the ache it caused her when she thought she'd hurt me. And the anger that rose in her when she knew others were hurting.

"I think we will understand each other better now," Bryony said, clear and flat. "I will be a true king to you, a fair one. Never a weak one. Don't test me again."

"Long live the king!" someone cried from the back.

Aric sighed and nodded, waiting for a few voices to start to echo the refrain before picking it up himself.

"Long live the king," I said.And stars protect my mistress, I added to myself, watching her abandon the body and move to the edge of the platform, away from us waiting for her in the audience.

Cresswell followed her, as did Griffin, and Thao came forward to join us.

"She did well," he said softly as voices raised and bodies began to mill about around us.

Aric stood tall, staring out over heads, and I followed his gaze, seeing Bryony move aimlessly through the crowd, nodding and greeting people. Everyone gave her a healthy amount of room, and I wondered if it had to do with her still holding that bloodied crown in her hand.

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