She waited for the blubbering, the begging, the pleading for mercy. A false claim of loyalty, like all of the others over the years. Instead, the Huntsman merely sighed.
“Because she didn’t deserve to die.”
“Sheneededto die!” the Queen screamed. “She needed to die so that I could keep what ismine.I will not allow her to steal from me.”
“It was never yours to take.”
The Queen lashed out, smacking the Huntsman with the back of her hand and cutting his cheek with her ring.
“You don’t get to decide what is mine,” she spat. “No one does. Not any more.”
The Huntsman stared at her, his gaze unafraid.
“I’d kill you myself,” she said, “but I don’t want the mess in my bedchamber. Guards, remove the Huntsman from my sight.”
They did not have to drag him out. The Huntsman rose to his feet and left without another word, far more still and quiet than the Queen. She rushed to her desk, picked up a glass bauble, and hurled it at the door. It smashed into dust. She sank to the floor, her limbs shaking.
She had trusted him. Of all her servants, she had trusted him the most, and he… he had done this.
And Princess Eirwen was still alive.
But not for much longer.
“Mirror,” she said, “as soon as you can, find out where the rebels will be meeting again. I think I should send the little princess a gift…”
∞∞∞
It was late when Cole finally rose the next morning, having spent the rest of the night tossing and turning, unable to digest his thoughts or scrub the scene in the tavern from his mind. Food felt like the last thing he wanted, but he stumbled down to the nearly-empty breakfast table nonetheless.
The room seemed darker somehow, the conversation more subdued. When people rose to greet him, it was with the same fleeting expression that the servants often used. What had happened?
His mother sat at the end of the table, signing papers. He cast a cursory glance over them, noticing the familiar black seal.
His stomach clenched, but he sat down and forced his face into a mask of indifference.
“Really, Mother? Another execution? It’s not even midday.”
“Can’t be helped, my dear,” she said, scribbling her signature. “A band of rebels was intercepted last night. One of the culprits was caught.”
Cole’s insides lurched. “Anyone I know?”
“Lord Hammersmith, would you believe?”
No wonder the nobles looked so spooked. They were usually spared his mother’s wrath, turned a blind eye to it when her ruthlessness lined their pockets. Now none of them were safe.
“I see,” he said, unable to summon much else. “Did he… tell you anything of note?”
“Yes,” she said, pursing her lips and lowering her voice. “It appears that the person leading the rebels was none other than your wicked little stepsister.”
Cole feigned shock. “What?”
“I know. She must have been behind these attempts the entire time. Heaven knows what she’s been doing all these years, but do not worry, my darling, she won’t succeed. No one will take our throne from us.” She raised a hand to his cheek. “Are you all right, dear? You look awfully pale.”
“A late night,” he said, forcing a smirk. “And a lot of wine.”
“Oh, I see!” She laughed, shuffling the papers. There were at least two black seals amongst them.
“Will anyone else be joining Lord Hammersmith on the chopping block today?”