Page 40 of The King has Fallen

They feared Gault. But theyadmiredMelek.

And then I remembered Melek’s own wariness—his concern about the King being unhappy with the mental state of his bastard son.

Apart from an enemy that wished to remove this weapon from the King’s grasp, there was no one else who had reason to want Melek dead. But that had been no normal assassination attempt. That had been an attempt to rob Melek of his soul… if he possessed one.

The Zaryndar had powerful magik, but they shied away from the Dark. And the Tuskarrians were giants, but they possessed no magik.

It was said that in order to bend a Shade to their will, a person had either to give their own soul as sacrifice,orthat the orders must come from the highest of the Devil’s agents here in the land of flesh.

Would there be an agent closer to the fallen Lucifer than the King?

Certainly not in the flesh.

But did that brutish male have the strength of will and discipline to work the Dark?

There were too many questions and not enough answers, but after a few minutes of turning the questions over in my mind and turning circles, I realized there was still no sound near the tent—and no Melek.

Nerves fluttered in my belly, and I got to my feet.

“Melek?” I hissed quietly. If he was close to the tent he’d hear me. “Are you safe? Have you found anything?”

But there was no answer.

Shit.

My stomach growled and my hands were shaking. I realized I was utterly alone. If Melek didn’t return, my only recourse would be—

The tent flap snapped aside, and he strode in, bringing a cloud of delicious aromas with him—sausage, fried potatoes, honeycakes, sweet fruit, rich kafk…

My stomach clenched as he approached the door of the cage, his chin low and eyes on me.

I took a halting step towards him, hope screaming in my chest—but he growled a warning.

“Stay back. All the way to the back. And do not move.”

Mouth watering at those fragrances, I nodded, but even when my back was against the cage bars opposite the door, I found myself swaying closer.

“Please—”

“Stay back until it’s locked.”

He had to juggle, placing the goblet on the ground near where the cage would open. I almost wept when he unlocked the cage door and placed that platter on the groundinside, then reached back for the goblet and placed it next to the platter.

When he finally closed the cage door, I was quivering.

The moment that lock slid home, I leaped across the cage and onto the food, grasping sausage in one fist and a handful of the potatoes in the other—both foods steaming hot, because he’d picked them up from the early breakfast preparations.

They were burning my hands and my mouth, but I didn’t care. I chewed like a savage, stuffing myself.

Mouth full and belly clenching, I swallowed hard as I realized I was crouched on the ground and Melek still stood on the other side of the door, watching me.

While I chewed the next mouthful, I reluctantly dropped the food in my hands onto the platter and picked it up, needing an arm under it to keep it level. Then I grabbed the goblet in the other hand and hurried to the back of the cage, settling cross-legged, with the platter in my lap as I dug back in. I alternated bites of precious food with mouthfuls of the sharp kafk that desperately needed cream and sugar, but I didn’t care.

Melek watched me, his expression unreadable. “You need to slow down or it might come back up.”

“That would just let me eat more,” I said around a mouthful of sausage.

To my delight, Melek chuckled.

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