Page 147 of Wedlock
“On the contrary,” she snaps, leaning down and placing one hand on each of our sons’ shoulders. “I’ve had enough of your games, Lord Dragonspur. If your wife is unable to have any future children she will be dispensed with and you will marry my niece, as was expected. It is the will ofyourQueen and the Queen of Denmark that this be so. Your bloodline is too strong to be permitted to languish.”
I stare in panic at our boys.
Tiger looks wide-eyed at his father, obviously taking his cue, as ordered, to follow protocol at all times, but Talon tries to wriggle out of the Queen’s grip, and winces as her long nails dig in to hold him in place.
‘I’ll kill you for that, you fucking vampire bitch.’
I step forward.
“Don’t,” Falcon whispers underneath his breath as he stands tall, his shoulders squared, and glares at the Queen.
I hope like fuck he’s thinking of a way to get us out of this mess. If his expression is anything to go on, he’s just about to snap.
As the guards take my arms, one on each side, to lead me from the room, my suspicion is confirmed.
“Unhand my wife!” Falcon snarls, lunging forward and almost effortlessly hurling the first guard towards the crowd some fifteen metres away, before advancing on the second.
There are gasps and cries as the first man’s body smashes into the vampire onlookers, causing them to scatter. Our boys are ushered away from the throne as the second guard draws his sword.
The Queen, laughing, claps her hands, and a dozen more guards surge forward.
It’s then that I realise this is exactly what she was hoping for. All along she’d been counting on the fact that Falcon’s Dragonspur temper would live up to its reputation and she’d have a reason to do whatever the fuck she plans to do with me — and force his marriage to the princess.
As Falcon fights off the new guards another throws me over his shoulder, and I scream.
“Falcon stop! It’s a trap! Stop!”
But from the number of bodies being flung all over the place, and his roars of rage, I know there’s no stopping him now.
Kicking and struggling against the guard whisking me away, the last sight I get of my husband is him being pinned to the floor by at least six vampires, his face covered in blood, his eyes searching for me as I scream.
“Falconnnnnnn!”
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The moment I hear Angie’s shout, I know she’s right.
I need to calm down. I’ve played right into Queen Cunt’s hands.
As I stop struggling I hear the titter of the crowd as they return to surround the monarch, and I realise the whole shemozzle must have been planned. She needed witnesses. She’d engineered this rebellion. And that’s exactly how it will be portrayed, ending in my execution if I don’t follow her will and marry as she’s decreed.
But she’s underestimated me.
As I’m dragged to my feet to face her I wipe the blood from a cut to my forehead out of my eyes, and collect myself. I may not havebeen at Court all these centuries, but I’d been on the battlefield. The art of war I know only too well, and war is exactly what she’s just declared on my house.
I concentrate on my strategy as I face her and try to put aside the images that flash into my mind of my wife being forced to undergo an invasive medical procedure against her will.
I’ll kill every single charlatan who lays a finger on her.
But first, the bitch on the throne.
“Are you finished?” She sneers as I stand before her.
Guards on either side of me press silver knives to my throat, another has a sword at my back. Half a dozen more are being dragged away to get medical attention. At least two probably won’t recover.
“What do you have to say for yourself?” She demands.
I meet her gaze steadily.
