Page 120 of Their Blood Rite

‘As long as I am under supervision, I can remove myself from my coven!’ I argue, cutting over the king and causing the entire room to gasp openly at my impertinence. ‘Your laws allow that.’

‘If you agree to incarceration or servitude for your king, yes, that is true.’ He snarls his words through gritted teeth, utterly outraged I dare speak over him. ‘I do not recall your petition for becoming one of my guards nor my prisoner.’

‘I am in the bed of the greatest witch hunter in history. There is no other man alive that has killed more of my kind than him.’

‘And yet you flee your coven for him?’

‘I do.’

‘You clearly have not seen the bone arches of the villages. You have not seen how many of the bones your lover placed there. You are a naïve and foolish girl. You have not seen-’

‘You haven’t seen My Lord naked,’ I interrupt. ‘Nor have you seen his considerable skill in the bedroom, but I assure you, both are worth abandoning a loveless and cold coven. I hold no love for the bones in the arches. I hold no affection for killers of the innocent. For blood magic or their followers. My lord has shown me nothing but kindness and satisfaction. More than anyone in my coven has ever been capable of.’

The king’s eyebrows raise. When I look at Shaw, even he’s looking at me like I’m insane. His lips are parted and eyes wide.

‘Apologies, my king,’ Shaw grinds out, looking ready to smack me. ‘She is still a little wild.’

The king laughs. The court laughs. I feel myself turn crimson.

Why the hell did I say all that?

The king raises his hand, silencing everyone as he descends the steps and stops before me. I sink back, the blade still at my throat and the guard holding it pinning me to his body. His brow is raised, waiting for me to speak.

‘I…’ I look at Shaw, who nods in encouragement to say something. Anything! ‘I’m sorry I didn’t ask permission to leave the coven, My King. My Coven would have stopped me if they knew. I assumed the head of your witch-killing army would be sufficient to make sure I didn’t break your laws. After all, I’m just one earth witch female. If he can’t supervise me, what good is he?’

Shaw full on frowns at my insult.

The king scoffs.

‘My leaving was a spur-of-the-moment choice. I had little other options. I couldn’t ask my coven leader permission to leave as he would have denied it.’

‘Because you were betrothed to his son?’ The king asks, a brow cocked.

I let out a shaky breath, the blade at my neck feeling really sharp suddenly.

How does he know that?

‘So. You met Ronan Shaw. Fell in love. And left?’ Every one of his words drips with sarcasm.

‘No,’ I reply, making this smug, I-knew-it-grin appear. ‘I was ordered to marry a man I hated. One who I was forced to pretend to love despite his infidelity with my best friend. I was assigned a life and a role. I was given to a man whose idea of foreplay was painful and embarrassing for both of us. So yeah. I sought out someone who might offer me a way out.’

‘And the man stained with hundreds of your kind’s blood is that man?’

‘My King. You have no idea what it is to be forced to marry. To be forced to be someone you aren’t. To be forced to live a life you loathe with a man that offers as much excitement and interest as a dry puddle.’ I face Shaw. ‘Look at me. A simple earth witch. Stood before the great king, wearing a dress I could only have dreamed of, surrounded by the greatest in the land and with a beautiful man on my arm. And I assure you, he is not lenient with me. I am well-watched. Given firm instructions which I obey.’

‘And you are happy in his confinement?’

‘No,’ I laugh. ‘But I’m far more satisfied inhiscage than I ever was in my coven's chains.’

Silence again.

The king straightens, peering down his nose at me.

Is this the moment I die? I wonder, will I see my body fall as my head is severed? Chickens sometimes run after their heads are cut off. Will I twitch? Will I blink?

‘Well,’ he sighs. ‘This must be rather embarrassing.’

He looks past me to the crowd. There’s a fair amount of shuffling, but I don’t dare turn to look, or I may find myself minus a head. The king has a sadistic smirk. One of natural cruelty.

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