“So, I’ve ascended the throne, even with all my drinking and chasing skirts. What do you think about that?”
What did I think about that? “Fate must have a sense of humor,” I forced out.
“Stupid cunt.” Spittle hit the side of my cheek as he continued to pull. Good gods, he was going to snap my neck. “I don’t think you understand what this means for you. My father let you do whatever you wanted, even though you failed us. Let you speak to people however you wanted. Speak to me like you do. Not anymore.”
“Is your ego that fragile?” I spat.
Tavius shoved my face back into the mattress. Whatever relief came from the pressure being gone from my neck and spine was replaced by smothering panic. My struggles renewed as I managed to get a thin breath of air. “But things are going to change. You won’t have protection any longer. Nor do you have the aid of your knight.”
I stopped moving. I stopped fighting as his words sank in through the panic.
His fingers tightened around my hair. “Sir Holland has been reassigned as of this morning. He was on the ship that left for the Vodina Isles. He will personally oversee a treaty of peace between our kingdom and theirs.”
My throat seized. Sir…Sir Holland had been sent to Vodina? After what had been done to their Lords—after what I’d done? That was a death sentence. That is if Tavius spoke the truth. I couldn’t imagine that Sir Holland would’ve left without finding me. He would’ve made time. Unless he hadn’t been given a chance. A heavy knot settled in my chest. “Is he alive?” I rasped out.
“As of now, he should be,” Tavius answered, and I wasn’t sure if I could believe him. But could I allow myself to doubt his truth? “But you? I think you’re going to wish you were on your way to Vodina with him.”
The back of my eyes burned as I desperately tried to rein in my emotions. King Ernald was dead. I’d never been all that close to the man, but I’d known him for my entire life. And Ezra? My mother? Sir Holland? What about the people of Lasania? This couldn’t be happening.
“I’m not like my father,” he said. “Nor am I like your mother. I don’t, for one second, believe that the Primal will come for you. He saw what a worthless thing you are. He rejected you. You won’t save the kingdom.”
His words cut into my skin. “And you will?”
“Yes.”
I almost laughed. “How?”
“You’ll see soon enough,” he promised. “But first, there’s something you need to understand. I can do whatever I want to you right now. There isn’t one damn soul who would step in and stop me or, let’s be honest, care enough to do so.” He tilted my head to the side again. “Not so mouthy now, are you?” Tavius laughed. “Yeah, it’s time to rethink that attitude of yours.”
“Why? Why do you hate me?” I asked, even as I told myself I didn’t care. “You were like this from day one.”
“Why?” Tavius laughed. “Are you that obtuse?”
I was surprised he knew what the word meant. “I guess so.”
“You were the Maiden, fated to belong to the Primal of Death,” he said. “You failed at that, but that doesn’t change who you really are, Princess Seraphena, the last of the Mierel bloodline.”
My heart stuttered as understanding seeped into me, along with a hefty dose of disbelief. “You…you’re worried I will try to stake a claim to the throne.”
“You could,” he whispered. “Many wouldn’t believe you. I doubt you’d have the support of even your own mother. But enough people would be willing to believe you—believe anyone who claimed to be a Mierel.”
All these years, I’d assumed that Tavius had little to no desire to take the Crown. Never once had I even considered that my right to the throne drove his hateful behavior. I’d been wrong—so wrong.
“I have a question, sister? What do you want me to do right now?”
Die.
Die a long, slow, and painful death.
“You want me to get off you?” he taunted. “Then say it.”
I said nothing.
He dug his fingers into my hair and jerked my head so sharply, pain shot down my spine. “Say it with respect, Sera.”
Every part of my being rebelled, but I forced my jaws open. I forced the words to the tip of my tongue. “Get off me, Tavius.”
“No. That’s not it. You know it.”
I hated him. Gods, I hated him. “Please.”
He tsked under his breath, clearly enjoying this. “It’s, ‘Will you please get off me, King Tavius?’”
Opening my eyes, I focused on the rays of light streaming in through the small window. “You are not my King, nor will you ever be.”
Tavius stilled above me and then released his grip, suddenly rolling off me. I quickly shifted to my back, breathing heavily.
Tavius smiled as he backed away. “Gods, I hoped you’d answer that way. Do you know what you just did?”
I glared at him, my jaw aching.
“You made a treasonous statement.” That fevered glow returning to his eyes, Tavius gripped the handle of my dagger, tearing it free. A chunk of wood flew into the air. He slipped the dagger into his belt and barked out one word. “Guards.”
I shot to my feet as the door swung open, and two Royal Guards stalked in. But it wasn’t them that sent a cold bolt of dread down my spine. It was the one who remained in the hallway. It was Pike—the Royal Guard who’d stood outside my…my stepfather’s office the day I’d found the Coupers. It was what was in his hands.
A bow.
Aimed straight at my chest.
Everything in me slowed as I stared at the sharp edge of the arrow, held steady in Pike’s hands.
“Fight them, and I think you know exactly what will happen,” Tavius said.
I couldn’t look away from the sharp point.
I was fast, but not faster than an arrow. The eager look on Pike’s face told me that he really hoped that I fought. The smile on Tavius’s face said the same.
And it was in that moment that I realized that whatever Tavius planned, now or later, there was a good chance he didn’t expect me to survive. And there was also a high probability that he wanted me to beg, cry, or plead.
I wouldn’t give them that. I wouldn’t fight them. They would not get any of that from me. My back straightened as I inhaled slowly and deeply. I would not give them anything.
Things had slowed inside me but felt as if they’d sped up outside of me. The two guards gripped my arms with gloved hands, walking me from the chamber. Tavius spoke to the Royal Guard who waited at the end of the hall, speaking too quietly for me to hear. The guard turned, quickly jogging off ahead of us as I was forced down to the main floor and led through the hall the servants used.
The faces of those we passed were a blur. I didn’t know if they looked our way, how much they saw, or what they thought as the guards walked me into the Great Hall, passing between columns adorned in gold scrollwork as we entered the grandest chamber in Wayfair. Banners taller than many of the homes within Carsodonia hung from the dome-shaped glass ceiling to the floors, the golden Royal Crest glittering in the light from the numerous gas lamps and candle sconces. A secondary wall of pillars circled the main floor, creating a somewhat private alcove. They too were adorned with golden designs, and that scrollwork continued across the marble and limestone floor, down the wide steps of the alcove, and then forward like veins of gold, stretching all the way to the raised dais where the King’s and Queen’s diamond and citrine-jeweled thrones sat.
They were empty now, but one was draped in white fabric. Black petals had been strewn about the cloth, a ceremonial act representing the King’s passing.