Page 141 of The Turncoat King

He heard a murmur wash through the crowd. Saw the look in her eyes that told him she would delay for as long as she had to until someone came up to help her.

He stepped behind her, pulled her up against him and let his sword blade rest across her whole throat.

“They aren’t coming to help you. They don’t think I can be defeated. Both your assassin and your general have proved that. Now, tell me where Ava is, or I’ll do what I’ve wanted to do since the day my mother was murdered in your name.”

“Herron has her.” She cleared her throat. “He said he had taken her to his house.”

“Then let’s go to his house.”

* * *

Ava stareddown at the jacket on the table before her. She was still amazed at the way her cousin had been able to intercept her and divert the guards to his private residence, which lay between the main square and the palace.

Change was in the wind, obviously, and the guards were calculating that the queen wouldn’t last too much longer.

Better obey their new master now.

They had hedged their bets, though, because she’d seen them pay a messenger to run and inform the queen of the situation.

“Don’t threaten me with death,” she said, looking up at Herron, who was wearing a robe over his trousers, not the shirt she had hoped to see. Her plans had centered around it, but she acknowledged the foolishness of that. She had laid her hopes on things she couldn’t control. She would have to work with what she had. “The queen wants to kill me in public, remember? As a lesson to others.”

He grabbed his hair in both hands and stared at her. “Why are you so difficult?”

She gave a bitter laugh and lifted her hands. “Whywon’tI cooperate with the man who murdered my father and chained up my mother and starved her to death? I wonder.”

“Your mother’s death was an accident. The stores manager for the inventory in the dungeons was watching her and making sure she had food while I was away, but then he died, and . . .”

Ava leaned her elbows on the table, her bound hands in front of her, and shook her head. That pathetic excuse did not deserve a reply.

She had to squeeze her eyes shut for a moment, to calm her rage.

He hadn’t given her a needle yet, for the magic he wanted her to work into his jacket—the same jacket he had forced her mother to work on, too—and she wondered if it was worth lying to get her hands on one. At least he would have to untie her hands for her to sew, and that alone would be worth it.

“All right.” She slumped lower. “Give me a needle and I’ll—”

She stopped talking at the knock on his front door.

He turned toward it eagerly. Full of anticipation.

He left the small room they were in, off the main reception area, without a word, and she heard the sound of boots ringing on marble—one of the palace guards coming to check on the door from the kitchen where they were waiting.

The guard and Herron spoke quietly to each other, and the door was opened.

She heard Herron’s voice rise in pleasure and excitement, and she thought she might recognize the other voice as well, although she couldn’t remember where she’d heard it.

The palace guard loomed in the doorway, taking in the garment on the table in front of her with curious eyes.

“He wants me to embroider his jacket before I die,” she said to the guard. Then she rolled her eyes, communicating how strange that was.

The guard shifted, suddenly a little unsure of what he was doing straying from the plan he had been given.

“I’m sure my aunt is annoyed at the delay, but I don’t mind it,” Ava told him. “The longer Herron wants me to sit and sew his jacket, the longer I have to live.”

“I’ll take over now.” Herron’s voice made the guard flinch, and he turned, and sidled out of the doorway.

Herron stepped into the room, and Ava stared at him.

“Look at your face!” He laughed. “It is the most sought-after garment in the city.”

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