Page 120 of Queen of the Night
Two of the gloam masters comment between themselves behind me, and chuckle. “Rumors are true, the mark is completely black. The last of the weak kings. If we weren’t killing him today, he’d die on his own soon anyway.”
I would correct them, as there is a very,verysmall piece of gold left on the end of the longest scroll that trails down my back, but that small part seems a joke now. Useless.
Jethonan grumbles as he’s pushed down roughly and chained beside me, though his clothing is left intact. Seems they took my shirt intending to use my mark to make a spectacle of my family history, ensuring the people’s opinions are swayed against me. The black mark, if anything, will do it.
Though it’s awkward in my bent-over state, I lift my head, only to find Vera upon the castle steps dressed in a daring black dress, staring across the distance between us, hands fisted at her sides. Sorrow and dread roil in my gut at the despair on her face. Renton leans close and says something in her ear, grabbing one of her fisted hands and twining his fingers with hers before he kisses the back of it.
I jerk at the chains, my body thrumming to fight. Vera does nothing, just stands straight as an arrow, her eyes locked on me.
I hang my head down. I can say without regret that I truly did as much as I could to save my people, but that doesn’t ease the knife of failure that slips between my ribs, robbing me of air.
Jethonan speaks, resignation in his voice. “My lord, it’s been a pleasure working with you.”
“You’ll not escape me for long, Jethonan, I’ll see you on the other side.” I force a half-hearted grin his way.
Jethonan doesn’t deserve this. Another knife of failure between my ribs.
A sob behind me has me glancing over my shoulder. Nadiette is chained among the other originators. Another knife. So many dying because of my inability to restore lucent.
My worst fears are coming to pass before my eyes.
Chapter 68
Vera
Iresist the urge to shrink away from Renton’s nose beside my ear. “It wasn’tIthat ordered it, I’ll have you know. You can blame the low kings for that.”
He smiles the smile of one who believes he’s gained everything he wants, and fiery rage builds in my chest because it appears he has, and I’m helpless to stop it. Here he stands, whispering in my ear, attempting to convince me that I shouldn’t hold this against him.
He eyes the flower. “We’ll wed, first. You may choose to leave after that. You’ll soon see that I can, indeed, be merciful.”
Merciful? Does he mean he won’t force me to watch the man I love be executed?
I grit my teeth as he rounds the table. “I think we have different ideas about what mercy is.”
His eyes darken. “I could make you stay and watch. Is that what you’d prefer?”
He doesn’t wait for me to respond as he steps forward, leaving the shadows and entering into view of the crowd of people and soldiers spread before us. It grows quiet all aroundus. “My people.” He gestures to me with a gallant hand. “Here, our precious Tulip, who will restore the gloam masters to their rightful rule. Fortunately for me, you discarded the power you were given years ago when you chose to raise up originators to save your kingdom. But I see the treasure in your midst and will restore the Black Tulips to their intended glory.”
Silence covers the crowd, so deafening that my eardrums buzz. Already his magic stirs in the air between us, dancing around me with wispy threads. It’s cold, not offering the pleasant balance that Ikar’s heat brings. Instead, the longer his lingers around me, the colder my magic seems to grow. If I bridge with him, I will be forced to grow used to icicles within me for the rest of my life.
“Shall we begin, my flower?” Renton asks as if he truly cares for me. When I fail to respond, he looks over the crowd of people as he brings a wisp of gloam to his hand. “Did anyone tell you how quickly King Waylon died on his throne?”
The wisps flutter around his fingertips, and I know he’s threatening those who watch, those who would become his people—if they survive. But for all the fear he’s instilling in me, I can’t pull my eyes from Ikar, who watches with an indecipherable expression. A hot tear tracks down my cheek. I would never have guessed that life as I knew it would end in unimaginable betrayal. But if I don’t do what he asks, all these people… I know he’ll kill them, one by one until I comply.
I stare at Ikar until Renton guides my chin toward him with a gentle thumb. “This way, my dear.”
Moments later, I speak forced vows with him. Vows that, with every word, rip my heart to shreds with poisoned knives I know will leave eternal scars. Within minutes, we’re married. Sealed with a firm, chilled kiss that would’ve gone on had I not broken it off early. I feel as if I’ve died and left my body empty of thesoul that gave it life. I stare across the crowd toward Ikar again, only to see his head hanging low, looking more defeated than I’ve ever seen.
Chest-crushing betrayal threatens to suffocate me, so heavy that I can’t draw a proper breath, and I stumble when dots blur my vision. The crowd before us remains silent. Mournful. Gray clouds churn on the horizon as night falls, and a lonely breeze gusts and stirs through the crowds. I battle for control of my body—my head wants to preserve my life, but my battered heart aches to kill.
Renton slips an obsidian ring onto my limp finger, then places my hand over the stem of the tulip. My fingers stay flat against its smooth surface, and rage grows within me—pushed too far. This flower wasn’t intended for him.
“Hold it,” he growls.
Have I finally found the end of his patience?
The wisp of magic leaves his fingers and snakes smoothly toward the people at the forefront of the crowd. “Now, my dear.”
