Page 106 of The King's Queen

Understand? He wishes for me to understand him? The sound of rushing water fills my ears, funneling out the rest of his proclamation. In my tapestries and stories, the innocent sacrifice always forgave those who slaughtered her. She chooses the high road of love, and yet, she dies every single time. She smiles in the face of betrayal.

Well, I say,fuck that.

When Lucius is close enough, I throw myself forward, my shoulder aimed for his knees. My blow makes contact, sending the dagger flying only to clatter just before me, Lucius an equal distance away.

My wounded wrists scream as I slice the rope free of them, the dank air stinging as my blood drips to the floor. Those violet flames leap towards the sky, licking up each drop before burning brighter than before. The sight is jarring, but I force my focus elsewhere. An empty spot of the floor where Lucius used to lay.

The cool edge of the dark blade presses against my throat as Lucius’ labored breathing skitters across the shell of my ear.

“Don’t spill a single drop of blood until she’s on that altar,” Ophelus commands, watching with a void expression. I want to scream at him to care, to act like it hurts even a bit to consider murdering me even if I never was his daughter. Even if I already saw how he smiled speaking of Irene’s murder.

Lucius murmurs, lowering the blade just a bit. “He’ll bring her back.”

His mother. My father has promised to bring his mother back from the dead in exchange for his cooperation.

I can see his shaking grip, the crimson blood laced with golden flecks spewing from his wounded hand. The reality of his words hit me like a bullet through my chest. Could Ophelus really have the power? Would he bring me back once I died, and would I even want that? What would the cost be? I shiver despite the heat of the room. If the cost is an innocent life already, I’m not sure I would want to be brought back.

No, I need time. I turn my gaze towards the shell of my fiancé. There must be something of him left inside.

“You said you loved me, was that a lie too?”

“No.” He shakes his head, confused. “But in a world like this, my love for you could never be enough, not compared to my love for her.” From the corner of my eye, I see Ophelus stiffen, but think nothing of it as that dagger bares down closer to my exposed throat. He shuffles backwards, forcing me with him.

“Fuck you,” I spit, blood dribbling from the corner of my mouth. This dark power in the room, it’s too intense. I’ll die before the blade even plunges into my heart.

My body burns hot with contained power attempting to break through, and the scent of burning flesh fills the air. Lucius swears but doesn’t loosen his grip, even as I feel the boils raising on his skin.

Raising my hands in a desperate measure, I bury my palms against his open eyes and focus on pushing the Etherbane from my blood, forcing it to evacuate my blood through the wounds on my wrist. Then I call for my magic again, this timedemandingit to surface instead of pleading.

The result is a satisfactory sizzle and screams as I burn through Lucius’ eyes, searing through his cornea straight back through the retina and optic nerve. The prince drops to the floor, howling in agony as he clutches at his ruined eyes. I spare him no time as I raise my hands, invigorated and prepared to fight.

Ophelus only sighs and flicks his wrists towards the guards. Dark pressure pushes on my head, forcing me to my knees as my legs refuse to support my weight. The sentries step forward, each placing a hand on my shoulders and elbows, dragging me towards that dark alter.

I lash out, throwing an elbow towards a guard, knocking his helmet clean off his head. His hold doesn’t release; rather, my elbow took more damage than he has. I lift my gaze to his face, waiting to see who has betrayed me.

Then I scream.

Raiko’s face is all but falling off of his skull. Maggots writhe in his eye sockets, dried blood flecking across the sagging and purple skin. Dark veins stretch up his neck, creating black webs across his rotting skin. His lips sag opens as if he cannot bear to hold his jaw taut anymore.

But Raiko died months ago protecting me from the rebels. This body, it is nothing more than a shell. A host for whatever dark force now resides in his body. A force that my father apparently commands.

Raiko’s carcass throws my body onto the alter while the other undead pins me on my back. The midnight stone of the altar does the rest of the work, forcing my flesh to melt with the stone.

The flames spread towards me, specifically my wrist and bleeding lip, where golden blood still drips. My rage made me sloppy, I realize too late. I should have immobilized the guards and never underestimated them. That was one of my first lessons, and I had forgotten it.

“It would have been better if Rowan had killed you,” I spat, the stone biting into my back through the thin material of my nightgown. “Now I see why Emilie chose him over you. She hates you; she deserves to hate you.”

A cheap blow, and quite a futile attempt to save myself. Ophelus’ face only darkens, and he gesticulates a stabbing into his chest then slitting motion across his throat. The dark guards move silently, collecting the blade from the sobbing and blind prince, then returning to the alter.

“No!” I scream. I thrash. I cry and kick and shout and bite, but it does nothing. I am just a counterfeit princess who is in over her head. If Rowan were here- no. Rowan has probably taken his mother and the Nightwalkersfaraway from here by now, trying to forget all about me. Blaine is either dead or has forgotten about me, and by the time Torin and Tanja wake, I will be dead. No one is here to save me this time, and I’m not strong enough to save myself.

I close my eyes in defeat, allowing the darkness to pull me unto it.

“Forgive me.” I pray to no one in particular.

Then he strikes.

“NO!”

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