Page 76 of A War of Crowns

“Yes,” Seraphina answered, ignoring the disgruntled rumble originating from her godfather somewhere behind her.

Danger crackled in the air, and the hairs on the back of her neck rose when the Crow leaned toward her and prompted on a low hiss, “Tell me, Your Majesty. What else do they say about me?”

Undaunted by the fellow’s attempts to encroach upon her personal space by leaning over her Queensguard, Seraphina squared her shoulders and declared up to him, “They say you are mad. They say you are a murderer. They say you are a monster. They say you’ve massacred…” When she arrived to that particular rumor, the words finally stuck in her throat.

But the Crow did not relent. His glare remained, his singular eye seeking to pierce her through.

“…They say you’ve massacred thousands. Tens of thousands,” Seraphina finished at last.

Those words lured from the Crow a sound she had yet to hear from his lips—an honest laugh. It was a discomforting sound.

Even with her guards and godparents now forming a wall between her and the Crow, even with the feel of Alyx draped about her shoulders and nuzzling against her with a low usuru purr, Seraphina felt far from safe.

She felt leagues and leagues away from safety, in fact, when the little monster the King of Drakmor declared was to be her husband finally stopped laughing long enough to huff out on an amused breath, “Tell me something, Your Majesty…”

With a creak of his armor, the man retreated from his threatening lean and righted himself in his saddle. But his one-eyed gaze remained upon her and her alone when he asked, “Do I look mad to you?”

No.

No, he did not.

Chapter twenty-two

Aldric

Storming into the royal Drakmori pavilion, Aldric snarled, “I don’t want to do this.”

There Edmund sat, sipping wine. Clearly smug with himself.

But what was there to be smug about?

Edmund arched an eyebrow. “You don’t want to do what?”

“This.” Aldric waved a hand toward the exit. Toward the humid night. Towardher, wherever she was out there, with her talk of helping one another. And her little dagger. “I’m done. Keep your intrigues. Just leave me Blackrun. That’s where I belong.”

A muscle in Edmund’s jaw ticked. His eyes burned with a clear and growing anger.

But Aldric met that heat unflinchingly. He had problems aplenty, and all were far more serious than his little brother’s ego.

Edmund drained the last of his wine and carefully set the goblet aside. When next he spoke, he asked, “Did you truly come here to reject my generous offer, Crow?”

“Generous?” Aldric spat. “You brought me here to do your dirty work, Edmund—”

“I am yourking,” Edmund seethed, on his feet in an instant. “And you will address me with all the respect I deserve.”

Aldric bit his tongue before he could point out that hewas. Edmund was spoiled. Pampered. A child on the verge of throwing a tantrum at any given moment.

What respect did such a man deserve from anyone at all?

Shaking his head, Aldric warned, “I sail for Drakmor in the morning. I wish you luck with the queen, brother. But I am needed on the border.”

His blood still hummed with the old Kunishi’s warning. His mind whirred with the shieldmaiden’s accusation.“You’re just another of the Bonesinger’s puppets. Where you go, death and darkness follow.”

What did that mean? What did any of it mean?

“Need I remind you what is at stake here, Crow?” Edmund asked. His brother’s words were as cold as the mist snaking its way through the wilds of Kuni. “Is your memory truly as short as your stature?”

Aldric narrowed his one good eye. “No.”

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