Page 59 of The King's Queen

I gratefully accept her assistance as my legs wobble like a newborn foal. She offers a thin smile, though she no longer looks quite as cold. Amír, in some ways, is the same as I am. A child forced to grow up too quickly. At least that much we can understand about one another.

“By the way,” she says as we begin our walk, “I never hated you.”

I’m not sure what the right words to say are. Are there any words left to say between us at all? Probably not, so I settle for a tight-lipped smile and trail closely behind her into the dark.

My knees shake more with each step as darkness envelopes us. My heart races in my chest, pumping so loud I can barely hear the gunslinger when she tells me we are almost to the horses. I only nod slowly. I can do this. One step at a time.

“Quickly now.” She helps to lift me atop my mare before mounting her own. “We need to get you close enough to the palace grounds before the king sends out his search party.”

I squeeze my aching legs around the mare’s barrel and cluck her forward. My movements are stiff and clumsy, but I swallow my groans as my muscles protest. The memory of my fall earlier this night burns bright in my mind, and my back begins to ache. At least this time I have a saddle and stirrups to sink in to.

Amír rides by my side, constantly checking over her shoulder and in the trees above us. We don’t stop once, not even as the reins lather sweat against the horses’ necks, and I’m forced to weave my fingers through her mane to hold myself in the saddle. Maybe it is by the grace of the gods that we don’t run into any more rebels on the ride. However, the implications of what Rowan could be doing to them, or them to him, forces silent prayers from between my lips. They crystallize in the air.

As dawn sets the sky alight with torturous flames a hulking mass of stone and ivy comes into view. The palace. The sun licks some of the cold from my bones as Amír spins her horse to a halt.

Her flaming red hair whips out behind her, not quite a subdued enough tone to blend into the sky. She was silent the entire duration of the ride, and I figured she must also be exhausted by now.

Despite our earlier conversation, she has returned to her natural aloof and borderline cold demeanor, however, something has changed. I am the one who has changed. Amír is constant and honest to a fault. What I viewed as cold in the past was her blunt nature, her way of protecting herself and others. I had been the fool to think she thought anything extreme of me simply because she refused to placate me with forced pleasantries.

Rowan’s second nods stiffly towards the palace, and I understand. I have to make the final stretch alone.

“Run like hell.” Is all she says before wheeling her mount back the way we came from.

Chapter23

Verosa

Before I can even dismount, knights and attendants come pouring from the palace entrance. My gracious steed thankfully doesn’t spook, even as I slide from her back to land on my knees and crumple to the ground. Someone calls for a healer as I lay motionless on the gravel road. My legs throb and cramp from the strain of riding through the night. I barely had a moment to sleep and recover from using my magic, let alone the battle and run for my life.

“Verosa!” As someone props me up against the wall, I can see Lucius running towards me. His shirt is only half buttoned, as if he gave up on the top four buttons, and his hair uncharacteristically messy. He sinks to his knees by my side, the stones in the gravel tearing the knees of his trousers. The servants hand me to him as we wait for the healer, and he gently holds me against his chest.

“Thank you, Deungrid. Thank you. Thank you… Oh, gods,” the prince murmurs over and over again, half crying into my hair. I suppose news had reached the palace sooner than I had expected.

From the corner of my eye, I can see Blaine and Torin, their shoulders sagging in relief. A glance at their poorly adjusted armor and dark circles under their eyes tells me they were just as worried, but station prohibits them from coming closer. I fight the urge to scream. I want to sink into their arms and tell them all that has happened. I want Rowan here, safe and out of harm’s way for even just one second. I want everyone to stop staring at me like I am some foreign object just so they can go speculate what the poor princess must have endured. They wouldn’t understand even half of it.

Slowly, Lucius rises to his feet, carrying me with him as the healer arrives.

“I’d like to go to my room, please,” I finally find the strength to say. The healer looks apprehensive at first, but one glare from Lucius has her agreeing. Two more follow behind her, just in case my injuries are too much for one healer to bear. I want to tell them they need not worry for me, that I was seen by a doctor, not a healer, and that my wounds would mend themselves with time, but my strength fails me as the world fades to darkness.

When I awake, I am in my own bed, changed into a comfortable gown and laying beneath my blankets. At my side a pile of chestnut curls scatter across my bed, and a hand is clutched in mine.

“Tanja,” I murmur. “Tanja.” Her name falls from my lips easily, and she stirs from her nap. She blinks the sleep from her eyes then bolts upright once she sees that I am awake.

“Vera!” she sobs, tossing herself across my lap. “I thought you were dead. They told us you were probably dead, and I just couldn’t… I couldn’t…”

Her chest rises and falls against my own, scattering my heart’s broken pieces as she cries loudly. Shame curls around the mangled remains of my consciousness. All this time, fear whispered in my ear that Tanja was nothing more than a servant whose friendship was bought by my crown. That she had never cared for me, not truly.

Yet here she is, kissing my arms and weeping as if I am a miracle. To her, my life is a miracle.

I choke on my words as I wrap my arms around her shaking form and allow myself to hold her for the first time. My friend, who has always been here, waiting for me to see it. I bury my face in her curls and let my breast muffle the sounds of her tears as we cling to each other.

I don’t know how long we lay like that before a soft knock comes at the door. Tanja sits up slowly and wipes her eyes before answering.

“The princess is not taking any visitors right now.”

“The princess can kiss my ass after that scare.” Torin laughs and brushes past Tanja. The maid eyes him indignantly with a scoff but does not kick him out. Blaine follows in closely behind, dressed only in a thin tunic and pants. His hair is ruffled, and his shoulders curve inwards as he approaches my bed.

“What happened?” he says softly, as if afraid to break our fragile peace. Any anger I still hold towards him melts instantly, and I hold out a hand. He takes one, and Torin takes my other. Tanja sits at the foot of my bed, massaging my sore calves as they await an explanation.

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