Page 14 of Queen of Ashes and Scars
“Victor was killed by the Zhaos,” he says, far too pleased with himself.
It makes sense… Ludovic Delacroix, Arielle’s older brother, was feared and respected. He had that mystical quality about him, an affinity for darkness that seemed bigger than life. He could hold the attention of a room with one breath, whereas Victor was always considered to be a pushover. Still… I’d thought that my dumbass brothers would position themselves to manipulate him, not get rid of him altogether.
I’m still missing something. They killed Victor because he was in the way, but my brothers don’t have the necessary pedigree to hold a crown.
“People who steal crowns only warm it up until the next rebellion. Without the Delacroix, it’ll be chaos in Europe,” I say slowly, gauging his reaction.
I need to keep him talking, so I can finish the puzzle.
He shakes his head at my pessimist view of his rebellion. “No chaos. Adele will rule until her oldest kid comes of age.”
Suddenly, it clicks. I think back to that night in the garden when my older brother was cozied up to the queen consort’s first-blood. If Garrett wants to steal the throne, he needs a blue-blooded wife. Who could be better than the current queen consort, the daughter of the most affluent Prime Minister in centuries? That’s theonlyway a Beaumont could hope to retain power.
My brothers killed Victor so Garrett could marry Adele Chastain.
A dry snicker cracks from my throat, because it’s laughable. “Garrett and Adele on the throne together? You’ve all gone mad. Arielle isn’t going to abdicate. Now, little brother, you go home. You go and tell them that the rightful heir to the throne is alive and well because they will rally around her no matter what.”
Contempt twists his lips in an ugly grimace. “Now, who’s gone mad?”
I’m only halfway done unraveling his plans. He’s here, and not the Pereiras, which means—
My muscles coil, and my grip tightens around the hilt of the saber. This was a carefully planned operation, and the princess is a loose end. “You tracked the necklace…you’rethe one who had it made.”
He nods the way only a cartoon villain can, with enough arrogance to melt my brain. “And I gave it to Pereira as an early wedding gift. I thought I could spare her life this way, but you had to break her out before the wedding. Come on now, brother. It’s ten to one.”
Jasper couldn’t hope to kill the princess with Delacroix-trained soldiers that are loyal to the crown, so he hired mercenaries. He’s not here to chat, or negotiate, or figure out a way to better his position. He’s simply here to get rid of her once and for all.
He glances at my allies, sizing them up. “You’ve got what? A pretty bird and a little girl? Don’t throw your life away like that. Surrender the princess, and the three of us can finally get what we deserve.”
I can’t believe this…
After years of idle threats, I finally have to do it for real. I’m going to kill my brother.
Before I can move, his men attack, and my instincts kick into gear. I raise my sword to block an incoming large projectile, and the potent scent of it assaults my nose. They knew they were not going to get anywhere with guns, so they brought aconite-laced bolts. Smart.
I’m the best assassin the night court has ever seen because, ever since I was a newborn vampire, I could split my brain into two parts. While one side of my brain avoids the bolts, daggers, and swords coming for my head, the other side evaluates the battlefield with stone-cold accuracy.
8 vampires with hand-to-hand weapons.
6 snipers.
3 unknowns.
And Jasper, but the coward quickly takes cover in his vehicle, the tinted glass erasing him from view.
The bitter tang of an aconite bomb takes out half the snipers, blasting them to the ground, and the witch dashes into the fray.
Keenan already blinked behind the others, stopping the onslaught of bolts and allowing us to take on the wave of hand-to-hand attackers. Despite what I said, I keep an eye on the witch, feeling indebted to her for saving Arielle. She dashes into action, moving faster than I expected her to—faster than any human should.
I stake a vampire clean through his heart and behead him only for three of the unknowns to use the opportunity to encircle me, their swords on the offensive. They’re fast, faster than most vampires, but not faster than me. I twirl the blade of my saber around and parry their blows, keeping them at bay while I figure out what I’m dealing with. Deep cracks run in their skin, the mark of a human shape-shifter. The full moon must be tonight, the creatures ready to shed their current skin in favor of another.
That’ll work in our favor. The suckers can basically survive any wound, including decapitation, but they become weaker around the full moon until they shift.
I stand firm, my body poised and ready, and my opponents clench their fists around the hilt of their weapons with an air of arrogance. Three against one is a bad ratio when facing shapeshifters, and Keenan looks to have his hands full, as does the witch, so these three are all mine.
The saber becomes an extension of my being, and I am completely immersed in the battle as they rush in to slice me open, each of their swings finding nothing but air. Zooming forward, I hit the closest one with all my strength, and his sword tumbles to the ground with a metallicclunk.
His friend jumps and tries to stab me in the back, but I pirouette fast enough to avoid the tip of his blade. The one I disarmed roars as he tries to trample me like a ram, leading with his head. I jump as high as I can, high enough for the attack to only disturb the air below my soles, his futile attempt causing him to crash into the nearest car instead.
