Page 59 of A Storm of Fire and Ash
I hesitated for a moment, then quickly lied, “He died.” The lie slipped out easily, a reflex I had honed. “He died when I was eighteen. I had to hunt to put food on the table for my mother and me.”
Instantly, I regretted adding that last part. You hunted your food if you didn’t have coins to purchase it—which we didn’t have that luxury.
“Hunting, you say?” The King circled me like a hawk sizing up its prey. “Tell me, Elara, why would a peasant like yourself be slumming it with my son? You should not be here, in MY castle. You are a nobody,” he paused and then continued. “Do you truly believe the Prince would take you as his Queen?”
His laughter rang out, sharp and mocking, and soon the laughter of those around us joined in, echoing off the stone walls of the courtyard—everyone except for Eryn and Makar. Gavrin wore a slight smirk, but it didn’t reach his eye. He now stood beside the King with his eye patch firmly back in place.
“I-I... no, sir,” I stuttered, my cheeks burning as the laughter continued, a cruel reminder of my position.
“It’s Your Majesty, girl!” He slapped me so hard across the face that I felt my jaw pop. “I would have thrown you from this castle myself if you weren’t my son’s whore! That is all you’ll ever be! He will marry someone worthy and then be King—not… this” He motioned to me in disgust as his voice bellowed.
“ENOUGH!” Fintan shouted, his voice reverberating as he stormed toward us. With a fierce urgency, he wrapped his arms tightly around my shoulders, drawing me against him with an intensity that bespoke his protectiveness. “You do not speak to the future Queen that way!”
Fintan was pissed. Beyond pissed. His jaw clenched. “And you will NEVER touch her again!”
Side by side, we stood resolute, facing the King, the tension between us thickened like a storm about to break. Or perhaps that was just my swirling emotions.
The King’s eyes blazed with fury as he fixed his intense gaze on Fintan, and then he laughed. “Future Queen? Please! She is a whore!”
I placed my hand on Fintan’s shoulder. I could feel his rage and knew he was about to do something stupid.
“You better—”
“I better what?” The King interrupted. “Are you barking orders at your King? You will marry whoever the fuck I tell you to marry,” he thundered, his voice a low growl.
A surge of shock coursed through me, my eyes widened, while an unsettling knot twisted in my stomach, churning with apprehension.
“You will not be King for much longer!” Fintan snapped, his tone sharp and cutting. “Elara will be my wife come winter, and we will rid you of our castle!”
Winter… that was in like three weeks.
This was all news to me.
The King’s face flushed an aggressive shade of red, almost veering into purple, as fury radiated from him like heat from a blazing fire. In that moment, Fintan had managed to make him look foolish before the very eyes of his subjects, stripping away the regal composure that was his hallmark.
“Nobody threatens me in my own kingdom! Hold him back,” the King commanded, as he gestured franticallyto two of his guards, who had remained frozen, their expressions conveyed no emotion throughout the confrontation. Fintan, however, wore a confident smile, as if he had been anticipating this reckoning and was silently welcoming the challenge it presented.
“Fifteen lashes!” the King shouted.
My heart dropped as knots formed in my stomach. Was he truly about to order his own son to be whipped? The weight of the moment pressed down on me, my mind raced for a way to protest, but before I could utter a word, the Prince interjected, “You’re going to whip your own son? A Prince? For what, protecting the woman he loves?!”
Oh my suns.
Panic surged through me; I couldn’t allow him to defend me in such a way. I couldn’t let him get punished like that.
“Please, Your Majesty, surely we can figure something else out,” I begged as I reached out and touched his arm.
Big mistake.
Huge.
I pulled my hand away quickly.
The King’s eyes darkened, a storm brewing within them. “Make it twenty lashes,” he commanded as he looked me up and down. His gaze shifted to Gavrin. “Remove her shirt.”
The gravity of his words hung heavy in the air, chilling me to the bone.
Her.
