Page 44 of A Reign of Roses
I crawled even slower. Then I croaked out another garbled plea.
One set of footfalls sounded a few feet away. Hurried, but in no real rush. “Sir, this is royal property.”
Victory sang in my ears. I only moaned, my face blocked by my hood. The soldier sighed, kneeling to inspect my grievous wound.
“What happened to you?”
I overtook him in one swift movement.
My cloak served as a fine noose, wrapped tightly around the flailing soldier’s neck—working both to subdue him and silence his screams. I grunted as I rose to my knees, heart spasming, and kicked us both back behind the nearest towering hedge. Looming over him, I pulled the fabric tighter, and tighter still. His face—a round one slackened by shock and lack of oxygen—was turning a ghastly shade of purple. My muscles strained, my brow dripping sweat. The soldier clawed at me, nails scraping entire chunks of skin from my neck and cheek. The pain hardly registered.
An eternity crawled between us. He gasped and spit. All I could think was that his silver helmet would prove even more useful now that my face was marred by scratches.
“Please,” he gasped, hardly audible. “Just let me—”
Death stole away with his final words.
Now,thiswas a party.
An upbeat melody blared through my eardrums, steady drum line like a heartbeat in my chest. Women danced with abandon, dressed like works of fine art, men drunk and drooling after them. Roasted bird and hot buttered rum scented the air. I swiped a full chalice of crimson birchwine from a server as I ducked through the throng and toward the banquet table.
Arwen’s chocolate hair and endless eyes filling my mind, I raised the glass slightly and drank the rich spirit to her in one long swallow.
It was a beautiful night to die.
If I could commend my father on anything at all, it was his tremendous forethought. The man had always been six steps ahead ofme. Ahead of everyone. Of course, once he realized the blade couldn’t be destroyed he’d have it guarded night and day. Probably by the fiercest creatures known to man.
Which meant it was in one of the lairs.
The monsters Lazarus chained beneath these floors…they made my nightmares look like sleeping aids. Where they were kept were the only catacombs in the castle Griffin and I never dared explore. Not even at our most rebellious…or most inebriated.
The best route to the lairs would be past the raised banquet table atop the decorated dais, through the castle kitchens, and down into the—
“Honored guests.”
Layers of skirts heavy like sodden mops slowed their swirls all around me. Shiny leather shoes stopped midtap. Bile pitched in my gut.
I hadn’t heard my father’s voice since Siren’s Bay.
My head swam with startlingly vibrant memories of Leigh’s and Arwen’s screams. Sand that had grown heavy with blood. The clash of metal, bleeding into the band’s quieting harmony. I tucked my chin down and pushed faster through the crowd, my heart slamming. The silver helmet covered my face, I knew, but it wouldn’t be the first time he’d picked my thoughts out of a crowd. Though I’d found ways in my youth to quiet my mind around him, I didn’t dare look to that dais and run the risk of letting my emotions get the best of me.
“What a triumphant celebration of our plentiful harvest,” Lazarus announced.
The crowd of trashed noble Fae cheered.
Rat brains. Fucking imbeciles, all of you.How could they fall for his manipulative swill?
My eyes suctioned to the scuffed, checkered floor of the great hall.Ten more feet. Maybe twelve. I could slip into the kitchens while he addressed his subjects. Make it to the monster lairs in the next few minutes, if I was fast.
I hurried past buxom women and potbellied men scarfing down enough food to nourish the entire starving realm. At every too-quick step that drew an odd look from a guest I slowed my pace until my legs moved rigidly, as if wading through a swamp.
Five feet now.
“I couldn’t conjure a better night to announce, in the greatest union our realm has yet seen—”
I could just make out the oil lamps that lit the hallway that led to the kitchens. The chefs and servants and dishwashers fussing like hens to get each appetizer and drink out to the crowd. I dodged one such speeding server, steadying his tray of emptied glasses with a muttered, “Sorry.”
“I present to you,” my father continued, “the beautiful last full-blooded Fae, who has agreed to be my queen.”
