Page 70 of The King's Queen

“Get up. Please just get up.”

Blaine does not rise.

Lucius prepares to plunge the sword into his chest cavity, but he pauses.

Every nerve quivers with rage and terror as Lucius turns to face me. That triumphant smile on his face quickly vanishes when he catches my steely glare. Something unspoken passes between us. May it be desperation, a threat, or perhaps a plea, Lucius understands. This moment is the line drawn in the sand. I hold his gaze for a moment before he drops to a knee, bowing his head.

“For my love.” He proclaims. “I spare his life.”

An uproar begins in the crowd, and my father leans forward to inspect the scene.

“Interesting,” he says.

Behind me, Tanja begins to weep with great ragged breaths. Her voice is scratchy as she praises the gods for their mercy. But that is not what this is.

I could laugh. Out of pure rage or relief, I don’t know. Blaine would live, but his honor…

How much has he sacrificed for me now, and how long will I continue to let him? He will live in agony so long as I am married to the man who very well should have killed him.

The realization sends me reeling in agony.

In sparing Blaine, Lucius was sending me a warning. This is not mercy, but a challenge.

The healers begin to pour forth. I watch in horror as they load Blaine onto one of their stretchers to inspect the damage. Deep cuts lace his arms, and his leg is curled tightly to his chest; blood dribbles from a slice across his face. It barely missed his eye.

The noblewomen coo about Lucius’ handsome mercy, the majority of the men nod their agreement. A man of honor would make a fine king. Though some disagree, saying his grace is weakness, and this was a disrespect to custom.

Our knights will not so much as look at him, damn the consequences for what they may be. I know they will remember this day when he comes into power, that Lucius had taken one of them, the best of them, and degraded them to the point of filth. They see through his mercy; they see the demon rotting beneath that handsome facade just as I do.

Blaine moans on the stretcher. That leg…

I move to go to him, to rush past my expectant fiancé. Let the nobles talk. Let them all rot. I don’t care. I just need to get to him.

A startled cry escapes my lips when my father’s fingers dig deep into my forearm. Bruises form under his fingertips already.

“You would do well to remember your company,” Ophelus warns, still facing ahead, his face giving away nothing, “and your place.”

I stagger back to my seat upon the dais, stumbling over the flowing folds of my gown and cloak. The red fabric pools at my feet like blood. With the golden embroidery, it might as well be Blaine’s blood I’m steeped in. Like I am not already.

Five thin crescent arcs line my mottled flesh, a drop of blood forming in the corner of one. I fold a slip of red silk over it. Princesses don’t bleed, and they sure as hell don’t bleed golden.

Torin clears his throat to announce his presence and drops to a knee before the dais.

“Mei Reihn. Mei Reinhavich.” He croons with that bastard’s smile of his. “Prince Lucius requests her highness.”

The king dismisses him with a subtle wave of his hand. Torin murmurs his thanks and many blessings to the king and his offspring, may his reign and life be long, and all that other bullshit he chokes on. He rises and extends his arm, the blooming sunlight catching his face. I force my countenance into a state of neutrality, like I know his is. Cool and quiet rage lays under that mask. It does for us both.

As we step from the dais and approach the arena, his grip tightens only slightly.

“If you don’t gut him like a pig, I will.” His voice is a low growl, the sound of gravel grinding on concrete. I know he means it. So I just nod, not trusting my voice to not betray me.

I grip his arm fiercely, needing his comfort to brace for the horror ahead. While Lucius has come out victorious, that doesn’t mean that Blaine hadn’t landed any of his own brutal blows. Crimson blood laced with gold drips from his lips, a nasty bruise garnishing his prominent brow. His eyes glaze over a bit as he catches sight of me, his too white teeth sparkling through his bloody smile. Torin drops my arm with a grunt, no sign of respect or acknowledgment towards Lucius.

“My love.” He bows deep at the waist, catching hold of my hand. He moves to kiss the back of it when I lift his face up towards mine. Gingerly, with deliberately painful care, I blot his lips with my handkerchief, a large enough spectacle to leave the nobles cooing. Leaning forward as if to kiss his cheek, I whisper, “You don’t know how red my ledger is, all for that man. If you’ve undone it all…” I pause to fold a chaste kiss into his grimy skin, nearly gagging at the feel and taste. “There’ll be hell to pay.”

Lucius’s smile nearly falters, but it remains plastered to his face. “We will talk later.” He lowers his voice to whisper in my ear. “Go to your bastard, maybe then you’ll be grateful I showed youbothsuch mercy.”

The threat does nothing to quell my rage, and my fists itch to smash his face in, but I won’t allow it. I won’t allow him to win.

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