Page 75 of A War of Crowns

“Nothing,” Seraphina claimed at once, before the monster she shared the darkness with could interject. “Nothing at all.”

Alyx joined their happy little party with a flap of wings and a greeting purr, which preceded the feel of the usuru nestling about her shoulders. For the first time since her conversation with the king, some manner of peace seeped back into her soul when the winged serpent nuzzled her throat.

But it was a small, fleeting sort of peace.

Duchess Edith murmured, “First we see you dancing with the king, and then…” Her godmother shot a glance up at the Crow of Drakmor.

But the man’s one-eyed attention was all for her, as though he wished to smother her with the sheer weight of it.

The duchess slowly continued, “…and then we see you running outside, and the next thing we know—”

Duke Percival pressed his lips into a thin line and interjected, “We think you’re in danger. And now we find you with—”

“Her betrothed,” the Crow finished on a low rumble, leaving her godparents both whirling to face him.

Seraphina gritted her teeth.

Duchess Edith gasped, “I beg your pardon?”

Duke Percival asked her directly, “Yourwhat?”

But before Seraphina could get a word in edgewise, the creature looming over her on horseback continued, “The queen was just informed by my brother that if she wants Drakmor’s aid with Mysai, she will have to marry me and name me King of Elmoria.”

Now it was Seraphina’s turn to gasp, “What?”

That last stipulation was certainly newsto her. Edmund had said nothing about having to name this murderer the King of Elmoria.

“Never,” Seraphina declared, her eyes narrowing as she did so. “I would ratherdiethan see the likes of you sit the Elmorian throne.”

The Crow’s visage didn’t change in the slightest, so far as she could judge in the darkness, when he quietly warned, “That will probably be the outcome should you refuse.”

Despite the fact that she was nearing seventy years of age, Duchess Edith stepped between Seraphina and the mounted man as if intending to protect her from him herself. Around them, her Queensguard stirred.

Sir Arkwright even unsheathed his sword.

But it was Duke Percival who ultimately snarled, “Now, you see here. I don’t care who you are. Prince. Crow. I will not just stand here and listen to you threaten Her Majesty.”

“It was no threat,” the Crow revealed. And though his words were for her godfather, his one-eyed gaze remained wholly fixed on her. “My brother intends to declare war on Elmoria if Her Majesty refuses.”

“His Majesty wouldn’t dare,” Duke Percival immediately insisted, though Seraphina herself wasn’t so sure.

King Edmund most certainly would dare. He had made such perfectly plain.

At the memory of his breath brushing against her ear and his fingertips digging into her skin, her stomach roiled yet again.

“His Majestywoulddare,” the Crow quietly voiced, echoing her thoughts and confirming her fears. “And he will.”

Anger welled up from deep inside her then, as though her soul was a pile of dry tinder that had suddenly caught flame. Clenching her fists, she took a step out from behind Duchess Edith and advanced toward the mounted man.

Beneath him, his stallion startled, and the Crow tugged the beast’s reins backward in a hasty retreat.

She advanced. “Your brother is truly as mad as they all sayyouare if he thinks for a single moment I would marry someone like you and place you on the throne of Elmoria as my equal.”

Each word slashed forth from Seraphina’s lips with all the precision of an assassin’s blade.

But the Crow didn’t so much as flinch. He simply nudged his horse back forward and angled the stallion to the side, leaving him riding up alongside her while Sir Arkwright fought to keep himself between them.

“Is that what they say about me?” he snarled down to her, his voice soft.

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