Page 153 of A War of Crowns

Chapter forty-one

Edmund

Edmund’s anger flared hot as he stormed his way through the halls of his palace, his Kingsguard struggling to keep pace. But they would just have to catch up if he left them behind.

He had a kingdom to run. Schemes to plot.

And a dowager queen to smother.

“Mother!” Edmund bellowed as he blazed his way into the Scarlet Wing—the entirety of which he had gifted her for her personal use and enjoyment.

Rooms upon rooms stretched before him with so many gilded doors winking within the lantern light, he hardly knew where to start.

“Find her,” he snarled to his closest guard, and his retinue hurried to comply. Doors slammed open as he passed, shouting “Mother!” as he went.

How dare she. Howdareshe threaten to ruin his carefully laid plans. His plots. All for the sake of her own pride?

He had so carefully maneuvered Drakmor onto the very cusp of victory. He had played his cards exactly right. And nowthat he was finally about to have it all, she had nearly ruined it.

When Edmund found his mother at last, she lounged on a chaise in her study, looking supremely nonplussed when she peeked at him over the top of the book she was currently reading.

Charlotte Hargrave but arched an eyebrow at him when he first thundered his way inside. Her ladies-in-waiting, however, scattered like so many startled pigeons.

“Leave us,” he screamed needlessly at the lot of them, given that they were already making haste to do just that.

“Goodness, darling,” his mother dared tut as her attention returned to her book. “Has someone died?”

Edmund crumpled the missive within his hand and launched it at her as he snarled, “No, they have not.” He missed. The ball of paper landed harmlessly several feet away from the dowager queen’s perch. “Against your best efforts,no oneis dead.”

Edmund didn’t stop stalking his way toward his mother until he was within arm’s reach. Sneering, he snatched the book straight from her hands and tossed it aside. At last, he had her attention.

She looked up at him with a fire of her own sparking within her eyes when he leaned in close and whispered, “Or are you about to deny that you were the one to hire the assassins who tried to kill both the Queen of Elmoria and my brother.”

The dowager queen didn’t hesitate in whispering, “I denynothing.”

“You idiot,” Edmund raged. His hands fisted to keep him from doing something he would regret, though his mother would have deserved it. “How dareyou undermine me.”

“How dare you speak to me in this way,” the dowager queen screamed right back, on her feet now as well. He shook his head and walked away from her, too agitated to stand still. But even as he did, she continued to verbally lash him. “After all I have done for you. After all I have done to secure you the throne. To win you allies. To ensure you had the bride you always deserved—”

“Enough,” Edmund snarled, rounding back upon his mother as he did so. “You may have birthed me, woman, but that does not give you leave to go against my wishes. You have no authority. You have no right—”

He didn’t expect the slap that suddenly connected with his cheek in the wake of those words. He probably should have, but he didn’t.

When his mother raised her hand to strike him a second time, though, he caught her by the wrist before the blow could fall.

“I need Aldric alive for now,” he informed her.

Which immediately lured a shriek from the dowager queen of, “You don’t needhim at all. You’ve never needed him. And if you had simply made your play with Arath at the summit, like I told you to, we never would have had to engage in this current nonsense in the first place.”

Edmund sighed through his nose and finally released his mother’s wrist. “Iam the king now, Mother,” he coolly reminded the woman. “I appreciated your counsel before I came of age—”

The dowager queen was quick to hiss with all her usual venom, “You still need my counsel and we both know it—”

But he spoke over her, raising his voice so that he might better be heard when he declared, “—but I am a grown man now, fully capable of making my own decisions. And you will learn to respect that.”

For a time, he was left staring down at his mother, awaiting her response. But all she had for him was a narrowing of her eyes and a deep frown. She asked, “Was that a threat, Edmund?”

He but met that narrowed gaze unflinchingly when he softly reminded, “Iama Hargrave, Mother.”

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