Page 59 of The Queen
“Robert Gannon,” my voice rings out, steady and commanding. “Step forward.”
He navigates the maze of people, heads turning in his wake. Whispers curl around us like smoke, but I stand firm, my resolve a steel blade unsheathed. He is related to me, I know it. His loyalty isn’t inked on paper; it’s carved into our bones.
“Eliza, what is this?” He murmurs, eyes wide, a flicker of uncertainty crossing his features.
I cut him off with a raised hand. “An official pledge, family to family.”
He smiles slowly letting me know he knew all along. Little fucker. “You know.”
“I know, and now everyone else knows too.”
“You’re going to ruffle some pretty big feathers,” he murmurs, placing his hand over his heart and bowing slightly.
“Isn’t that what life is all about?”
“It is now.” He smirks.
“You okay with that?”
“Fuck, yeah. Welcome to the family.”
“Thanks. I hope to do us all proud.”
“You will. I’m honoured, Eliza. You can count on me.” He turns on his heel and marches off the stage.
The crowd stirs, restless seas parting for a new ship setting sail under my flag. Ruffling occurs, but no one will outright defy me, not while my dad is standing right there.
But then that thought catches me.
Sure, Damon Hughes will peel the skin off anyone who even glances at me funny, but it’s more than that. They knowIwill, too, and it finally sinks in that I’m my own power, separate from my dad and my mother.
The realisation is like a punch to the gut—a good one. It’s empowering and intoxicating. I’ve stepped out of their shadows, and as my own entity, I’m fucking formidable.
I turn my attention back to the sea of faces, daring anyone to challenge me. They’re all silent, some smiling, some not so much. My four Kings, standing together but apart from the rest. Their gazes sear into me, each pair of eyes telling a different story, and then they step forward, and I feel the atmosphere in the hall shift dramatically.
27
JAMES
We’re standingon the edge of a cliff. Eliza has tied herself to the Gannon family in front of everyone, loud and clear for all sides of our shady world to hear. My gut twists. I get why she did it; they’re her family as much as the Hughes are, but it paints a big target on her and us, too, as a result. Not that being made a target bothers me. I’m used to looking over my shoulder. I grew up in a constant state of loneliness and isolation because my parents didn’t or couldn’t trust anyone.
“James, you good?” Oliver nudges me, pulling me back to now.
“Always,” I lie, my gaze flicking back to Eliza. She’s radiant, dangerous, untouchable, but I know deep down she has flipped a switch that’ll light us up in the crosshairs sooner or later. But that’s for another day.
Eliza’s gaze cuts through the crowd and lands on mine as the Kings approach her. Green eyes, sharp as shards of glass, flicker with understanding. She gets it; she sees the twist in my gut about the Gannon pledge. I bite down the urge to talk it out and give her a nod instead. Tonight’s for riding the high, not airing worries.
We don’t need words. Our purpose is clear—Eliza, our Queen, our charge. We’re a unit as we take the stage, four pillars around Eliza. Her safety, her reign—it’s on us now, more than ever.
I stride up to Eliza. The Great Hall is alive with whispers, but they fade into nothing as I stand before her.
My voice is ice-cold as I speak. “Eliza Hughes, I swear my loyalty to you. Now and always.” My words cut through the murmur of the crowd, leaving no room for doubt.
Raphael steps forward next. “My allegiance is yours,” he declares, his tone resolute, a dark promise hanging in the air.
Tarquin follows, his eyes never leaving Eliza. “To you, my Queen, my unwavering loyalty,” he says, his tone fierce as if daring anyone to make a move.
Oliver is last, his every word etched with the fire of his spirit. “Your command is my will,” he asserts, the undertone of danger in his voice clear to all who listen.
