Page 111 of Queen of the Night
“Miss me, my queen?”
Fury grows so hot in my chest it feels as if I might combust. I finally have hope and happiness in my grasp, and he shows up to snatch it away. I throw my elbow back in an attempt to take him off guard, but he grabs it and twists it behind my back, while tightening the noose around my neck, leaving me choking for air and gasping from pain. I’ve never hated anyone so much in my life.
Amidst the sharp pain in my twisted shoulder, my thoughts spin. Renton said the bracelet weakened the Tulip’s power… Ididdestroy a deathstalker with a simple lucent orb. Can I do that to this noose? Can I free myself, maybe even kill Renton?
I draw lucent into my free hand and clap it around my neck. The noose bursts into dark, misty ashes that seems to surprise Renton as much as I. He loosens his grip on my elbow momentarily and I spin, pulling lucent and shoving it at him. I don’t know what I expected, ideally him exploding… at leastsomething. Instead he shouts at me, as if it merely pained him, and trades the gloam noose for his own arm around my neck, pulling me back roughly against his chest.
“Stop, or she suffers,” Renton shouts.
Ikar blocks one more swing, pushes the gloam soldier’s sword away from him and steps back, breathing heavily, a lookso dark crossing his features that evenIfeel afraid of him for a moment.
Rhosse and Darvy pull back from the fight as well. Renton forces me forward, and I find we’re surrounded by at least thirty cloaked figures. I try to swallow, but it feels like shards of ice scrape my throat with how tightly his arm wraps around my neck. I feel the freezing gloam waiting to knock me out, hovering just above my skin.I can’t be the one who ruins our kingdom.
Ikar, Darvy, and Rhosse stand tall, their arms pulled painfully tight behind their backs as they face us, and tension fills the space.
“I’ve come to your rescue,” Renton drawls near my ear. “It appears my timing was impeccable.” He brushes the back of a finger along my jawline. “Can’t have you marrying anyone but me. We have plans… remember?” he finishes with a raspy whisper.
My body tenses as I try to jerk away, but he tightens his arm, and I end up choking on a painful shout instead.
He hands me off to one of his soldiers, then spins toward Ikar, Darvy, and Rhosse as he laughs. “I wondered how it would feel to meet my long-lost nephew in person. Ironic that we desire the same woman, isn’t it?” He turns his gaze to Darvy and Rhosse. “Lowly knights of Moneyre, meet Renton, King of the Shadows and true heir to the throne of Moneyre. Soon to be your liege.” He lowers into a dramatic bow.
Ikar’s face is a mask of hard granite, no emotion shown besides furious anger in the depths of his eyes. He offers no response to Renton’s taunting. Darvy and Rhosse stare at Renton with condescension, but hide it well. I’m sure mine is written all over my face, as usual.
How does he alwaysfind me?
“No honor at my introduction?” Renton asks the two men, his brows raising with mock offense. They stare at him, stoic and silent.
He pulls out a knife with a blade black as night faster than my eyes can track and holds it at Darvy’s neck. “You will bow before me,” he commands.
Darvy’s jaw tightens. “I’ve sworn my sword and magic to Ikar, High King of Moneyre. He is the only liege I kneel to.”
The knife presses deeper and a trickle of blood trails down Darvy’s neck. A scream builds as I fear the worst will happen, then Renton whisks it away, sheathing it. “I cannot fault honor or your loyalty, as they will serve me well when it’s me you’re bound to.”
“The tulip,” he calls, waving his fingers.
One of the gloam soldiers steps forward with the special case that holds the tulip Rupi gifted Ikar, and a strangled gasp escapes my throat. Renton plucks the perfectly formed flower from its protective depths and sways it beneath his nose, inhaling as if it’s the oxygen he needs to survive. I suppose he does, in a way. I don’t miss the surprised anger on Ikar’s face before he swiftly masks it.
This is not good.
“Did Lucentia find you worthy, then?” Sarcasm laces Ikar’s voice.
Renton lifts a derisive brow as he rolls the stem of the flower between his fingers. “No, but someone else did.” He grins with satisfaction. “I traded this in exchange for the lives of you and your two friends—a trade much in my favor.” He chuckles. “The Field of Tulips has evaded me for years. Not only have you delivered a tulip into my hands, albeit inadvertently, but also our Queen of the Night.” He throws a look of censure toward Ikar. “Youreally should choose your friends… or should I saylovers, more wisely.”
He steps up to Ikar, a hand’s width from his chest, twirling the tulip beneath his nose. “Does it look as perfect to you as it does to me?” But he turns to look at me.
Ikar’s jaw clenches, and I see a vein in his neck throb. I’ve never seen him this angry.
Renton drifts to my side, a soft smile about his lips. “All that is left is to marry and bridge, and Moneyre will be beneath my rule, as it was always meant to be.” He turns his head to ensure Ikar will hear. “Our wedding night will be divine,” he whispers loudly, drawing out the last word.
Ikar snaps, and I send a torrent of lucent magic to him, Darvy, and Rhosse. He easily breaks free of the grasp of the cloaked soldier who held him, forcefully throwing an elbow back and catching the man in the throat, dropping him to the ground. He tears his enchanted sword from its sheath, but I can’t see much else as spots begin to sprinkle my vision. I try to keep lucent flowing, but air is also required, and there’s not enough with the gloam soldier squeezing the life from me. All thirty of the cloaked figures charge with shouts toward the three men as lucent lessens to a trickle through my body.
My vision blackens for a moment, my body growing limp from lack of air. All I hear is fuzzy shouting, and then… the gloam lifts, and I gasp for air, coughing and heaving violently. I successfully draw a full lungful of air only to find Ikar, Darvy, and Rhosse once again captured and forced to their knees with their hands behind their heads.
“I thought you cared for her.” Renton shakes his head, testing the blade of the wicked black sword he has yet to use with his fingers, and looking at Ikar as if he’s a despicable being.
“You won’t kill her,” Ikar growls.
It sounds more like a warning than a statement.
