Page 11 of The King's Queen

“Or you could kill her now, slit her throat, and hang her up to bleed like a doe.”

A small noise comes from her throat as I step closer, her mouth dropping open in a silent plea.

“Please-“

“But you know, there’s something most people don’t know about purebloods.” I cut her off, giving her a look that I hope Weevil doesn’t catch. His face contorts into ugly greed and lust as he leans closer. I can smell it now, the blood. Tangy and metallic, haunting the already dank air as I step even closer. Weevil allows it.

“There’s a place they bleed from where the blood is purer than the rest of the body. A gift from Deungrid himself.” I fold my hands in mocking prayer, Weevil’s eyes roam her body, searching for any place purer than the other. He runs a finger from her neck, down her arm, and to her hand. Pressing the back of her wrist to his ear, searching for a stronger pulse.

“Where?”

“Here.” I take his hand holding the blade, and though he stiffens, he allows me to guide his hand down to the back of her knee. He digs the blade in slightly, as if to test, and that’s when I strike. Gripping his wrist still, I bring my knee up to his head, a gruesome cracking noise filling the alley as I make contact with his jaw. A few of his teeth fall and land in the silver and red blood pooling on the ground already. He looks up at me with anger etched across his ugly and narrow features.

“Send Mavis my regards while you still have a tongue,” I hiss as I bring my foot down on his hand, his disgusting dagger dropping from his grip with an anguished cry.

“Run!” I shout to the young woman, and for once, she listens. Then Weevil begins to laugh, and before I can slip the pouch from my fingers, he grabs something from within his sleeve with his unbroken hand.

“I don’t need a tongue for this.” The green dart flies from his wrist before I have a chance to stop it, and lands home less than a second later. I watch in horror as she falls, the needle sticking out from the back of her leg. She hits the ground heavily and silently, dust rising around her. Not even a whimper of pain to say she’s still alive escapes her lips.

The villain keeps laughing deliriously, blood pouring from between his lips.

“She’ll be dead within the hour. She’ll be dead-“ A swift kick to the head shuts him up. I should’ve known Mavis wouldn’t have sent them out without Etherbane. I could scream out of frustration. She’s always one step ahead of me. And I know it’s my fault.

Light begins to filter into the alley as the door down the road opens. Ryson’s.

“Vera?” a man calls out, still too far to see us, but too close for comfort. I move to leave when her soft breathing reaches my ears. It’s shallow, too shallow. She should have never started a fight she couldn’t finish. If she dies tonight that’s between her and the Laei. I need to get to Kya, to protect my own.

To ignore a crime is the same as to commit it.

The words enter my mind before I can stop them, her clear voice flooding my senses. A saying she told me as a boy. It’s almost funny, in a sad and sadistic way, how her voice is the one I hear now if I have a morally sound thought.

I look back at her, crumpled on broken and dirty stone, blood pooling from under her indigo tresses. Her face is concealed by the darkness, making it so much easier to just slip away. Forget about her. Forget tonight happened.

I know as I move that I am going to regret this.

“You’d better be worth it,” I grumble as I toss the cotton pouch on the ground, deep gray so damp it’s almost blue exploding over the whole alley, covering us and any sign of a fight. My muscles and the lacerations coating my arms groan in complaint as I scoop her into my arms, keeping the needle in her leg. Aiko will need it if she’s to make the antidote. Her head hits my chest softly, and I can see her chest rising and falling too quickly through her soaked shirt. I swear I can hear her mumble a ‘thank you’ as I start away. The darkness clings to me as it always has, lending me its cover as I jump from rooftop to rooftop, making my way West. It’s nearly forty minutes on foot, and I hope that her pure blood saves her from some of the poison.

I can see the palace in the distance, its hulking figure still noticeable along the deep purple sky. As we get closer, I can see that nearly all the lights are on, despite it being well past midnight now. God forbid a king let his oil lamp run dry for one night while his people starve. I spit a curse at him and that monstrosity as I pass. May he rot early.

The lights are off when I arrive, but nevertheless, I pound on the back door of the Iales manor until the door swings open, revealing an incredibly small and equally angry woman. Aiko stands before me, her eyes still heavy lidded with sleep, fluffy white slippers adorning her feet.

“You’d better start praying right now, Rowan or I-“ Her voice dies in her throat as she stares at the barely moving girl in my arms, bearing the same black hair and blue eyes as her.

“I don’t pray.” Is all I can say before she’s ushering me into the room, not even bothering to lock the door as she swipes all contents from her lounge room table. A few of the plates and cups shatter, leaving a hazardous mosaic across the floor. Aiko doesn’t seem to mind as she sets the girl on the table, inspecting her wounds. Her eyes drift to that needle, and she sucks in a sharp breath. “Etherbane,” she breathes. Her eyes widen. She looks to me.

“How long?”

“Maybe forty minutes. I got here as quick as I could.” Her face hardens to the point of ice. If I touch it, I’m sure it will be cold. A single nod is my sign, I will have to hold her steady while she removes the needle.

Etherbane is tricky, it’s not designed like normal poisons. Since it only affects those who are blessed, it slows their quickened healing abilities. We have to let it flow until they’re on the brink of death because the antidote is poison too. The second poison shouldn’t even give a pureblood so much as a fever, but we can’t risk the body trying to fight off the antidote instead of the poison. It needs to be occupied.

It is difficult to kill someone who is blessed, but not impossible. That’s just how Deungrid designed it to be. The cost, in the end, is far too great, making it undesirable. But not for Mavis.

Aiko flicks the needle aside into an empty ceramic bowl. It tinkles a merry tune against the wind as it falls, clearly out of place. The girl’s face has gone clammy now, her already pale skin a deathly white, black skeins of poison working their way through her veins towards her slowly beating heart. With every beat it seems to drag, as if it can’t bear to go on.

“Now,” Aiko commands, shoving the antidote into my hands while she tips the girl’s head back. Her pale purple lips fall open slightly, wide enough that I can slip the liquid through. Aiko’s short hair flips into her face, and she hisses as a bit of the precious antidote dribbles onto the girl’s chin. I proceed with excessive caution after catching her glare.

Aiko can’t possibly even reach my shoulders, but I don’t mention that to her. Last time I did she threatened me saying she might not be able to reach my shoulders, but she could reach something much more important. A chill caresses my spine at the thought.

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