Page 141 of Prize for the King
And yet… Magnar is pleased with me.
He stands in front of the shaking boy, cocking his head in thought. The crowd is silent, thick tension filling the room. I watch with bated breath. Even I don’t know what Magnar will do.
“Do you have a mother, son?” he asks kindly.
The boy looks at him with pure terror and gives a jerky nod.
“Mhm. And sisters, a father, anyone else you love?”
Bodra looks transfixed, not even blinking as he stares at Magnar asif my husband is a viper who will strike any moment.
“N-no, my king.”
Magnar nods thoughtfully. “So it’s your mother they’ve threatened?”
A moan of fear tears out of the boy’s throat. Ronan lurches to his feet, his shackles clinking.
“He admitted his guilt! You have no right to question him!”
Magnar bares his teeth in a terrifying, confident grin, and slowly turns to the minister, who takes an involuntary step back, his face paling to ash.
“Insulting the crown, Ronan? Well, that’s unfortunate. Would you care to repeat what you just said to me?”
Ronan shakes his head mutely, and Magnar motions Raduna forward.
“My queen wanted him on his knees. See to it.”
Raduna nods with a small smirk and pushes Ronan down so hard, the minister cries out from pain when his knees hit the stone floor. Magnar turns his attention back to the boy.
“Where is your mother now, Bodra? Remember, you cannot lie to the king.”
The boy shakes his head violently, and Magnar comes closer, clasping a heavy hand on his shoulder. That seems to marginally calm him down, and he whispers something.
“Repeat that so my queen hears you.”
“I d-d-don’t know. Sh-she was t-t-taken last n-night.”
“Who took her?” I ask, anger swirling in my belly. Sothat’show they forced him to sacrifice himself.
“M-men,” he says, eyes rolling as he shakes harder and harder. “I d-d-don’t know. They s-s-said she’d d-d-die if I d-d-didn’t t-t-take the blame.”
Shouts of outrage burst across the room, but they fall silent as soonas Magnar raises his hand. He looks at me.
“My queen? What’s your decision concerning young Bodra?”
I take a deep breath, grateful for all the studying of Agnidari law I did in preparation for this.
“A forced admission of guilt shall be forgotten and found invalid. Bodra, you are free. My king, can we send soldiers to search for his mother? She’s an innocent victim.”
Magnar gives me an approving smile and motions toward one of his generals. The man presses his gloved fist to his chest and leaves the room.
“Now, let me exercise my rights asyour king,” my husband says in a silky, seductive voice, turning to Ronan. “Up you go, my friend. Unchain him.”
I swallow uncertainly but don’t move. Ronan seems surprised, too, but his face quickly regains the triumphant arrogance from before. He thinks Magnar will let him walk, and it’s so convincing, I have to remind myself he’d never do that. Magnar hates traitors.
When Ronan stands free, rubbing his wrists where the shackles dug into them, Magnar gives him a wide, terrifying grin.
He moves so fast, I barely understand what I see. Ronan screams in pain. Magnar has him in a chokehold, the minister’s shoulder rolled back impossibly far, his elbow bent at an unnatural angle. A tense hush falls over the audience, and in the silence, Idrina cackles, clapping her paper-dry hands.
