Page 50 of Labyrinth of Broken Vows
Thorne’s head jerks toward me, his brows pulling together in genuine shock. He steps closer, searching my face as if he must have misheard.
"Release him?" he repeats, voice low and disbelieving. "What?"
I hold his gaze, unwavering. "Yes," I say, my tone as firm as steel. "Release him."
The weight of my words hangs between us. There’s no need for more explanation; I know what I must do.
twenty-two
Thorne
Her command pierces through the silence, and I feel a flicker of disbelief. Release him? My gaze shifts between her and the pitiful creature still behind bars, her face resolute and unyielding. Henry stares at her too, stunned, as if he can’t believe she holds the power to release him at all.
It takes every ounce of restraint I have to signal the guards forward, my instincts at war with her command. I search her eyes, looking for even a glimmer of explanation; why this mercy? Why him? “You’re sure about this?” I murmur, low enough for only her to hear. But her answer isn’t for me; instead, she directs it to the guards who now stand at attention, waiting on my lead.
“Release him,” she says, her voice slicing through any hesitation. The guards glance at me, uncertainty etched into their faces, and I nod, barely suppressing the fury rising in my throat. Her word is law here. Our law.
The guards unlatch the cage, and Henry stumbles out, his eyes flickering between fear and twisted hope. He looks like he might weep, the pathetic creature. As he stands free, Brielle’s voice rings out again, cutting through the hollow victory swelling in his eyes. “Bring him to me.”
I catch the guards’ glances darting my way again, and I nearly bark the words, “Do not look to me when your queen orders you. Just do as she says.” They nod, each taking him firmly by the arms, dragging him forward. I watch her stand tall, head held high as she regards him like the scum he is..
“Kneel,” she commands, her voice as sharp and unwavering as the steel at my hip.
Henry’s lip twitches into a pathetic smirk, a small, disbelieving chuckle slipping past his lips. “What?”
She arches a brow, gaze chilling. “I said kneel.”
Henry’s smirk fades as her words sink in. He stands there, audacious enough to look amused, to act like he has a shred of dignity left as he stands there wreaking of piss and failure.. “Come on, Brielle,” he scoffs.
At her silent cue, the guards kick his legs, and he collapses, his knees slamming to the ground, helpless at her feet. I want nothing more than to strike that twisted, smug look from his face, to remind him just who he kneels before. But I’m quickly realizing she has her own plans.
Her voice, smooth and sharp, wraps around him, each word like a blade. “This pains you more than that cage ever did, doesn’t it? Kneeling here, forced to see me rise above you.”
He doesn’t answer, his jaw set as he glares up at her with eyes that spit daggers. My queen holds his gaze, unflinching, her presence powerful, unbreakable.
She circles him, her movements slow, predatory. “You know what I think, Henry?” Her tone drips with a cold, dark edge. “I think you haven’t changed. I think you’re still the same vile,ruthless man you always were.” She pauses, an eyebrow raised in mock surprise. “And yet, not even a thank you. I free you from that cage, and you can’t even find a shred of gratitude in that hollow heart of yours.”
He barks a laugh, defiant even now. “Thank you?” he sneers, voice thick with disgust. “I’m in that cage because of you, and his absurd obsession with you,” he spits, eyes darting hatefully toward me. “Why would I thank you?”
She lets out a low, mocking laugh. “You’re right, Henry. You shouldn’t thank me.” Her voice drops, deadly, every word laced with intent. “But maybe every woman I’m saving from your rage will.”
In one swift movement, her hand slips to the guard’s belt, her fingers wrapping around the hilt of the dagger. The guard makes a move to turn, surprised, but she stills him with a command as cold as her gaze on Henry. Her hands steady as she positions herself behind him, her voice low, final.
“You may not thank me,” she says, “But they will.”
With a single, swift motion, she slides the blade across his throat, her eyes locked on mine, steady and unshaken. The moment is still, echoing with finality, I see the shadow of our shared memory; the day I killed Nyria under her command, at last setting her free. The silence is absolute as he slumps to his knees, blood spilling in a stark, unforgiving line down his neck. This is not just revenge; this is her claiming her power taking it back in full.
The dagger falls from her hand, clattering on the floor, its echo stretching through the hall as her gaze never wavers from mine. She steps over Henry's still form, her eyes steady, head held high. Her face, her entire being, radiates a release; a severed bond, the final break from everything that once bound her.
I can’t stop the surge that rises within me, the dark, insatiable desire to claim every inch of her in this moment. She is power embodied, and she is mine.
My fingers slide into the silky strands of her hair, cradling her face as I draw her close. Her breath hitches, her lashes fluttering shut just before our lips meet. The kiss is raw, consuming, reassuring me that this is where she is meant to be. Her body softens against mine, a trembling exhale slipping from her lips as if she’s shedding years of unseen burdens. Her hands clutch the fabric of my shirt, anchoring herself as the tension in her frame melts away.
Our lips remain fused, a desperate, lingering kiss that speaks of everything words cannot. With a slow, deliberate motion, I slide an arm beneath her legs and the other around her back, lifting her effortlessly into my arms. Her gasp is soft, almost a whimper, followed by a low, breathless laugh that wraps around me.
My king,” she whispers, Her lips graze my jaw as I carry her through the shadowed corridors, the world beyond us fading into nothing. “Where are you taking me?”
“To worship you,” I rasp, my voice roughened by the hunger she ignites in me.“ As only a queen deserves.”
