Page 75 of The King's Queen

Lucius places a hand over his heart and feigns a gasp. “Devastating.”

Focus. I need to focus on anything other than the tantalizing thought of blooding my fists on his face.

My heels are pressed firmly into the ground, allowing every vibration of the earth to resonate up through my shins. As Lucius shifts, I can sense the slight disturbance in the air and how it has to shift to make room for him. The sun’s radiant heat dances across my face in rhythm to the swaying of the tree branches and the wind. It is all connected. The sun, the earth, the air, the magic, and me. I am rooted to it all, and Lucius is nothing. He is nothing in the face of my plans. Just another jealous man who seeks to possess that which he can never have, that which he never will have.

My footsteps reverberate through the loose soil, recently upturned by the strong winter wind. It feels like snow.

“I didn’t kill him because I want you to remember that I hold power over you. Anything and everything you hold dear is mine to command. I can take it at any moment.” Lucius bares his teeth in this egregious act of fury. “You can keep on your petty lessons with your mercenary, but at the end of the day, I can take his life whenever I please, and it will be my bed you have to retire to.”

Deep breathes. I am a well of infinite power and patience.

“I own you Verosa, you’d do well to remember that.”

Well, that was a nice thought while it lasted.

I turn with deliberate and painstaking stillness as I fix my gaze upon his trembling form. Trembling not with fear, but with anger. Pure rage at the thought that I could defy him. That I dare to defy him still.

I curtsy low and rise slowly with a lovely smile painted on my face. The pose of a perfect princess, the role he wishes for me to play. As I watch him shake, I realize that I’ve unsettled him more than pacified.

“Princess Verosa. It’s a pleasure tofinallymeet you, Prince Lucius.”

The joy I felt when seeing Lucius’ face redden and drop is lost by the time I return to my chambers. Instead, what is left is only the crushing emptiness of my heart as the memory of today’s events flood my senses. To think it all happened on today of all days too…

The cold air bites my naked flesh as my cloak and gown fall from my shoulders. I had dismissed all the maids earlier, so with no one to help me, I sink into the cold bathtub alone. When I raise a now grime and blood-free arm to the light, the skin is smooth. No crescent-shaped marks mar my pale skin, nor is there any skin missing from where the stone floors tore through my knees this afternoon.

My healing abilities were probably Irene’s favorite part about me.

The fire is burning low when I re-enter my chambers, and Tanja is nowhere to be seen. I suppose she must be with Blaine and Torin; they probably have no qualms over seeing her like they do me. The thought is unsettling, but I suppose I deserve it.

My silk sheets are cold, and the large bed only serves to remind me of my loneliness. I imagine tonight wouldn’t be so terribly dreadful if there were another form pressing into the comforter.

My fingers splay across the pillow beside me, the candlelight creating ghastly shadows across the walls. The wooden frame of the bed creaks as I roll onto my side and tuck my knees to my chest. I grip the blanket with white knuckles as I force my eyes to shut.

“Happy birthday, mom,” I whisper as sleep claims my conscious. “I hope you’re rotting in Hell.”

At some point in the night, I feel someone’s lips atop my forehead before the sound of their footsteps echo down the hallway. Still half asleep, I roll onto my back without a second thought.

Dawn offers a gentle caress of light some hours later, and I sit up with a stretch. Paper flutters from my lap. Looking down, I recognize Blaine’s messy scrawl and signature.

Tanja rushes in as my eyes scan the last line. A large tear plops from the bridge of my nose onto the parchment, marring the ink. Tanja’s tear-streaked face confirms what I find to be true in this letter.

Blaine is gone, and he is not coming back.

Chapter30

Rowan

It has been three days, and Vera still has not returned from her search. The whole palace is still whispering with stories of clandestine affairs and the scream that tore the palace in two three days ago.

The front door of the compound swings open, the steady pattering of rain growing into a thunderous stream as Amír stomps back into our home, Kya close on her heels.

“Anything?”

Kya shakes her head while Amír wrings her braid out. She takes Kya’s cloak and hangs it by the fire to dry as she takes to unzipping her boots. “No one has heard anything from her or even caught a glimpse of someone who fits that description. Looks like she’s making full use of the lessons we taught her.”

Amír’s glare as she speaks is honed and pointed in my direction. As if all of this is my fault. I sigh heavily and pinch the bridge of my nose. Kya’s shoulders droop.

“Maybe she saw her chance and finally ran? That is what we were training her for, after all.”

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