Page 22 of The Manticore's Human Queen
I take it. It is too large to hide, but I hold it at my side, my fingers gripping the smooth, cool wood. It is not just a weapon. It is a trophy. A piece of their power that I am claiming for my own. I walk from the study, not a thief, but a conqueror.
My visit to the ballroom cage that night is transformed. I am not a trembling girl seeking comfort, or a desperate lover stealing a moment of passion. I am an intelligence officer, delivering the assets for a council of war.
Tarek is waiting for me, his dark eyes burning with a fierce, questioning intensity. I do not speak. I simply unroll the maps before the bars of his cage, the stolen bow resting at my side. He looks from the maps to the bow, and then back to my face, and I see a look of pure, unadulterated awe in his eyes.
“The wedding feast is tomorrow night,” I whisper, my voice a low, urgent command. “The hunt will take place here. Zarren’s game will be our chaos.”
He listens, his gaze fixed on my face, but his brow furrows as his warrior’s mind immediately sees the flaws. “The chaos is good cover, but the ballroom doors will be heavily guarded. We would be cut down before we took ten steps.”
“We won’t use the ballroom doors,” I counter, my finger tracing a faint, dusty line on the map of the estate. “We’ll use these. The old service tunnels. They are old, filled with debris according to the servants’ gossip, but they will bypass the main guard posts.”
He studies the map, his eyes tracing the path I have indicated. “The tunnels emerge here,” he rumbles, his own large finger tapping the parchment. “Behind the kennels. The houndswill raise an alarm the moment we emerge. The entire guard will be on us.”
“That’s the point,” I say, a grim smile touching my lips for the first time. “The hounds are our distraction. Their baying will draw the guards from the west gate, giving us the moments we need to reach the Whisperwood.”
He looks up from the map, his expression a mixture of fierce pride and a deep, soul-shaking reverence. He sees not just the objects, but the revolution they represent. He sees the woman who has walked into the very heart of the enemy’s sanctum and emerged with the keys to their destruction. When he speaks, his words are not those of a soldier to his commander. They are the words of a mate to his queen.
“You are not a doll, Annelise,” he says, his voice a low, rough thing. “You are not a pet.” He reaches a hand through the bars, his large, scarred fingers gently touching my cheek. “You are a warrior.”
The words, from him, are a crown.
26
TAREK
The cage that was once my prison is now my training ground. Despite the magical wards humming along the bars and the heavy chains that keep me tethered, I push my body through every movement I can manage within the confined space.
My leg, though still tender, holds my weight. The bone has knitted well under Annelise's careful ministrations, and the muscle is rebuilding its strength day by day. I flex and stretch, testing the limits of what these chains will allow.
"You're moving better," Annelise whispers from outside the bars, her voice barely audible over the soft sounds of the sleeping beasts around us.
"Better, but not enough," I reply, rolling my shoulders to work out the stiffness. "When the time comes, I need to be more than just mobile. I need to be deadly."
She watches me pace the small confines of the cage, her green eyes tracking every step. I can feel her gaze on the play of muscle beneath my scarred skin, the way my body coils and releases with each controlled movement.
"The wedding feast is in three days," she says, her voice tight with barely contained tension. "They'll move you to the ballroom tomorrow for... preparations."
I stop pacing and move to the bars, close enough that I can smell the faint scent of jasmine in her hair. "Then tonight, we finalize everything."
She nods, pulling the stolen maps from beneath her cloak. Her hands are steadier now than they were weeks ago. The trembling, frightened girl who first stumbled into this menagerie is gone, replaced by a woman with steel in her spine.
"I've memorized every corridor, every guard rotation," she says, spreading the parchments on the straw-covered floor. "The service tunnels run beneath the entire estate. Most of them have been sealed, but this one—" Her finger traces a thin line on the map. "—still connects to the wine cellars."
"And from there?"
"The cellars have an exit that leads directly to the courtyard behind the kennels." She meets my eyes. "It's our best chance to avoid the main guard posts."
I study the route she's marked, my tactical mind weighing every angle. "The hounds will catch our scent the moment we emerge."
"That's where this comes in." She produces a small glass vial filled with a pungent, amber liquid. "Rendered fox musk. The huntsman uses it to confuse the pack during training exercises."
My respect for her grows with each revelation. "You've thought of everything."
"I've had to." Her voice carries an edge of steel I've never heard before. "This is our only chance, Tarek. If we fail..."
"We won't fail." I reach through the bars, my fingers brushing her cheek. "You've already proven you're stronger than any of them. Tomorrow night, we'll prove it to the world."
She leans into my touch, her eyes closing for a moment. When she opens them again, they blaze with determination. "I've been thinking about what happens after. When we reach the Whisperwood."
