Page 143 of Prize for the King
He replies the same way he always does. “Yes, my queen.”
Magnar kicks the back of Ronan’s leg, making him stumble onto his knees, and goes up to stand by my side. Raduna hefts his sword inboth hands, swinging it experimentally. Ronan is barely conscious. His eyes are closed, expression almost serene.
When his head slides off his neck, severed by one, powerful cut, that expression remains on his face. Raduna flings blood off his sword and picks up the head while the minister’s body crumples to the floor, lifeless and bleeding from the stump of his neck.
“My queen.”
He presents the head, and I nod.
“Thank you, my knight. You shall be rewarded.”
His eyes twinkle when he looks up, lips stretching in a slow, intimate smile. He winks, and I take a shaky breath, already knowing what kind of reward he wants. Magnar puts his arm around my shoulders and squeezes my arm.
“Final address,” he reminds me quietly.
I nod and straighten, and he remains by my side, a sign of his unflinching support. If I weren’t so tense after everything that happened, I would have burst into tears of gratitude. As it is, the nerves keep me rigid and controlled.
“Justice has been served.” The final paragraph from my speech rolls off my tongue easily. I know it by heart. “We have discovered treacherous foes in our midst and shelled out punishment. Let this be a lesson to those who hold power.”
I look at the council, taking the time to focus on each remaining minister for a few seconds. They look quite subdued, some grim, some fearful. Time will tell, but I think I achieved my goal.
“As the queen of Roharra,” I continue in a louder voice, “I am committed to building the country’s wealth and the wellbeing of my people. You shall not be robbed by your ministers and those who rule. You shall not suffer injustice. This is my promise and my fealty to this land.”
I bow my head. There’s a ringing silence, and I sigh, straighteningas I force my expression to remain impassive. Truly, I don’t know what I expected. If this were my father’s court, and I were a man, I would have gotten a ringing applause, but Roharra is different.
Khay catches my eye. He helps Idrina to her feet, and the former queen comes closer, climbing the dais with slow, unsure steps. Magnar squeezes my arm once more and retreats to his throne.
Idrina stands next to me, supported by Khay. When I make to fall back and give her the dais, her cold, wrinkled hand wraps around my wrist.
“Your queen has spoken,” she says in an angry, haughty voice, one I know well. “Illa nahiri hallad hevna. Hardiri dag!”
The ministers clap first, and the others follow. Soon, the throne room fills with the sounds of applause, heavy thuds of stomping feet, and ululating shouts of celebration. Idrina nods with satisfaction and orders Khay to “take her away from this wretched noise.”
I am not sure what she said, but I caught the wordnahiri—queen—and I know it was a strong message of support.
As I exit with Magnar, I battle tears. I never expected my cantankerous mother-in-law to back me, or for Magnar to help me without taking away my role in this trial. I went into that room crushed by responsibility and fear of failure.
I come out victorious, but not because Ronan is dead.
I am surrounded by people who are on my side, and it’s the greatest triumph of my life. I made the best possible choice that day when I stuck my abductor with a knife. I finally see the future stretching ahead of me, and it’s bright and lovely. I will thrive in Roharra.
On impulse, I grab my husband’s hand. I am so careless, I push my palm into his uncut claw, and flinch back with a hiss when it breaks my skin. Magnar pulls my bleeding hand higher to look at the wound, then lowers his head to suck on it, holding my gaze. I gasp in dismay, trying to pull my hand free because this is a completely new depravityI had no idea was possible.
He pulls back with a smile.
“What are you doing?” I exclaim.
“Showing off my willingness to eat my wife even when she bleeds,” he says with a wink. “And since we’re on the topic, don’t you have something to tell me?”
XLIV Time
My heart plummets, and I step from foot to foot, swallowing roughly. He knows, of course. He can count. We’ve been here for over a month, and Magnar has been inside me almost every night. He would have seen it if I bled.
His face grows hard when I only stare at him, wringing my hands. I don’t know why I have so much trouble accepting it, or even just telling him. When I say nothing, he scoffs and turns away, his jaw working, and I shake my head with a trembling sigh.
“Wait. I… Whatever you’re thinking, it’s not that.”
His shoulders are rigid, and he takes a moment before he faces me again. His eyes are cold, mouth flat, and I shiver as if his very gaze freezes me.
