Page 90 of Heir of Illusion

“Pull yourself together,” he whispers as the king steps down from the stage.

The crowd parts, creating an open path leading directly to me. Baylor sweeps me into his arms and presses his lips against mine, but I’m too shocked to respond.

“I told you I would make a future for us,” he whispers in my ear.

No.

It wasn’t supposed to be me. I was supposed to be free. As his wife I will be even more trapped. There will be no escape. No freedom. My throat constricts as I struggle to pull air into my lungs. The weight of the collar around my neck increases, pushing my shoulders down. It’s too heavy, too tight.

“Cheer for your future queen!” he shouts.

The crowd erupts with applause. People come from all sides to congratulate us. Some distant part of my brain tells me I should thank them, but I can’t form words. I can’t even breathe. Baylor’s hand around my waist is an anchor pulling me underwater.

Air. I need air.It’s too much.The room shrinks as the walls move closer. Sweat drips down my forehead as the crowd pushes in on us further. Too many people. Not enough air. I’m suffocating, but they keep smiling at me and speaking as if I’m not dying right in front of them.

It’s too much.It’s all too much.

I scan the room, desperate for an escape. I lock eyes with my brother. His face is pale as he shakes his head, mouthing a single word.‘No.’

“This offense cannot be accepted!” one voice rings out above the rest, pulling everyone’s attention.

His words mean nothing to me as I take a ragged breath. Finally, the endless swell of well-wishers fall back as they search for the source of the complaint. My head falls against my shoulder as the room spins. Baylor’s hand around my waist is the only thing keeping me upright as my legs threaten to give out. My chest heaves as I pull air into my lungs in labored gasps.

The owner of the voice steps forward, his face red and twisted with rage.

Lord Burgess.

The crowd parts into a circle around us. Their eyes are fevered as they shift back and forth between their king and his challenger, nothing but ravenous vultures, delighting in their entertainment.

“It was supposed to be my daughter!” he insists. Based on the way he stumbles and slurs his words, I’d guess he started celebrating early. “But instead, he chooses her? After everything my family has given him! The support! The money!”

Kaldar steps forward, his eye wide as he lifts his hands in a placating gesture. “Brother, now is not the time.”

“Now is the time!” the lord insists.

“Listen to your brother, Simon,” Baylor commands, his eyes shifting blood red as his control over theverterepart of himself wanes.

“How about you listen to me?” Burgess shouts as he pushes strands of blond hair out of his face. “I helped you take that throne when Maebyn disappeared. I loaned you my armies to defeat Triston. Andthisis how you thank me?”

Baylor’s lip curls, but he makes no move to approach the drunk lord. “Guards.”

On cue, Remy appears behind Lord Burgess and seizes the man in a tight hold. The lord struggles, continuing his tirade.

“No! You’re insane if you think anyone would bow to her!” he seethes as his gaze lands on me. “No one in their right mind would put a crown on a bastard-born whore.”

Gasps erupt around us. I push myself away from Baylor as he shakes with fury, and his claws extend once again. He’s about to shift into his other form, when suddenly, Thorne steps out of the crowd.

“Release him,” he orders Remy as he removes one of his gloves.

His voice is calm, but there’s something underneath it that sends warning bells ringing through my mind.

The captain’s gaze moves to Baylor, waiting for instructions. The king nods and Remy steps back, allowing Burgess to fall to the floor before the God of Death.

Thorne tsks as he shakes his head, staring down at the drunk lord. “Pity you never learned to hold your tongue.”

He reaches out, splaying his bare hand across the man’s face.

The screams are instant. Burgess jerks back as he tries to escape the pain, but Thorne is faster. Grabbing a fistful of his long hair, he twists it mercilessly to hold the man in place. The crowd is utterly silent as the lord waves his arms, searching for help.

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