Page 30 of The Manticore's Human Queen
“Stop her!” Lord Renlir’s voice cuts through the pandemonium, but his guards falter, caught off-balance by the sudden violence.
I reach Tarek’s cage and fumble for the key hidden in my bodice, my hands slick with my husband’s blood. The lock clicks open just as the first guard reaches me.
“You treacherous little?—”
Tarek’s clawed hand shoots through the bars, tearing the guard’s throat out before he can finish. Blood fountains across the golden cage as the elf collapses.
“The chains,” I gasp, working frantically at the magical shackles binding him to the floor.
“Hurry,” Tarek growls, his dark eyes blazing with barely contained fury. “They’re regrouping.”
My fingers find the secondary lock—smaller, more delicate, but just as crucial. The key turns with a satisfying click, and the enchanted manacles fall away, shattering like glass.
For a heartbeat, Tarek remains still. Then he explodes into motion.
The cage door flies open, embedding itself in the marble column behind me. Tarek emerges in his full, terrible glory—seven feet of raw power and righteous fury, his eyes blazing with the fire of a war god. The transformation is breathtaking: gone is the wounded, chained beast, replaced by a warrior-king, magnificent and deadly, radiating lethal intent.
“My queen,” he rumbles, his voice carrying across the chaos-filled hall.
“My king,” I reply, stepping to his side without fear.
Lord Renlir finally grasps the scope of my betrayal, his face paling as parchment. “Kill them both!” he shrieks. “Kill them now!”
His guards hesitate, having seen what Tarek can do when unchained. Their courage falters in the face of his terrible beauty.
Tarek bares his teeth in a smile that promises death. “Who dies first?”
The question hangs like a blade. Several nobles bolt for the exits, abandoning any pretense of courage. The remaining guards draw their weapons but keep their distance, like jackals circling a lion.
“You’ve made a grave mistake, girl,” Lord Renlir snarls, his composure cracking. “Did you think this would end well for you? That you could simply walk away from your obligations?”
“I’m not walking away,” I say, my voice carrying through the sudden hush. “I’m burning them down.”
I reach into my bodice and produce the second blade—not the pearl-handled dagger, but a small glass vial of alchemical fire, stolen from Zarren’s private hunting supplies. Lord Renlir’s eyes widen as he recognizes it.
“You wouldn’t dare?—”
I smash the vial against the marble floor.
Flames erupt in a circle around us, racing along the spilled wine and oil from the overturned table. The fire spreads with unnatural hunger, climbing the silk wall hangings and racing toward the timber supports of the ceiling.
“You wanted a hunt,” I call over the roar of flames and screaming guests. “Now you have one.”
Tarek’s hand finds mine, his claws careful not to pierce my skin. “Ready to leave this place behind, my queen?”
“I’ve been ready my whole life.”
Together, we stride through the fire toward the chaos beyond, leaving behind the ashes of my old existence and stepping into the blaze of our new one. The wedding feast becomes a funeral pyre.
And I am free.
33
TAREK
Freedom tastes like blood and fire.
The moment the chains fall away, every cell in my body roars to life. Power floods my limbs like lightning, washing away weeks of captivity and humiliation. I am no longer a broken beast in a golden cage. I am death incarnate.
