Page 129 of Merciless Is My Crown

Cosimo was dangerous.

In so many ways, he was dangerous.

He was a wild card added to our already volatile mix of personalities, and while Simon and Zephryn were growing on me…something about Cosimo rubbed me wrong.

He saw too much.

Barely an hour out of his centuries-long imprisonment and he saw too much.

He was cunning and clever in ways I couldn’t comprehend, and when he’d burned that dog-eared, well-worn piece of paper and put those tears into Anaria’s eyes, I’d hated him, too, because he’d taken away that little piece of hope she’d been hanging on to so fiercely.

And hope was such a scarcity these days.

They stopped at the end of the cracked, broken flagstones, never letting each other go, fingers intertwined, heads bowed together, and the longer I watched them, something in my heart gave way, a wrenching of muscle and blood and something even deeper.

And as my heart came undone, only one word came to mind.

Anaria.

52

ANARIA

“Stop fidgeting, Anaria. People are staring.”

I smirked up at Tavion as we walked along the North Road, choking on dust. “Nice try. They’re looking at a six-foot-six menace with silver hair who dresses like a gigolo and sticks out like a sore thumb, not little old me. I’m practically invisible over here.”

But I pulled my tattered hood up over my hair to make him happy. Lord Tavion Montgomery was easily recognizable, but me…I was practically a celebrity in Blackcastle. The king’s only daughter, and I was sure word had reached my father that I was here.

The only question was, how long before a patrol of soldiers came along to collect us?

“This place is worse than when we left,” I observed quietly, noting how people rushed down the road, keeping their heads down, a few hard-faced soldiers inspecting every wagon as they passed by, not even bothering to hide their looting as they stole whatever they wanted from the dirt-poor farmers.

“I can’t believe Zor thinks they’re worth saving,” I muttered. “Look at what they’re doing.”

“We’re not here to keep order, Anaria.” I blew out a heavy breath as Tavion yanked me back for the tenth time, away from the sobbing woman, her belongings crushed in the dirt around her by the gang of jeering soldiers.

“Zorander’s wrong,” I hissed as Tavion hurried me away. “They’re a bunch of fucking monsters.”

“We’ve been gone awhile. Whoever’s commanding the army these days sets the tone for their behavior.” Tavion’s hand tightened around mine. “My guess is Crux is in charge, or someone equally as bad. Probably giving them orders to terrorize and intimidate.”

“Yeah, well, I can’t wait to put an end to this bullshite,” I told him as the Keep came into sight, Blackcastle’s rambling open-air market crowded with a mix of Fae peddling their wares, hungry, despairing humans, and keen-eyed soldiers patrolling the stalls.

A lot of soldiers.

More than was necessary to monitor a bunch of potato sellers.

“Why are there so many?” I muttered out of the corner of my mouth.

“Looking for something, obviously.” He tugged me deeper into the crowds, which was ridiculous since he towered a foot above everyone else. “Let’s not make it too easy for them or they’ll get suspicious.”

We wound through the market, heading toward the one section of Blackcastle where we weren’t overly worried about starting a fight.

Southwell was a rabbit’s warren of alleys and narrow streets lined with shops that catered to the more undiscerning clients. In fact, Trubahn’s shop was somewhere within this district, not that any of these streets looked familiar.

The further inside Southwell we got, the more deserted the streets became, only a few cloaked figures hurrying to reach their destinations, not a single one glancing our way.

“Gods, this place stinks worse than usual,” Tavion muttered, dodging a pile of something that could have either been excrement or vomit. “Smells like the underbelly of a?—”

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