Page 3 of The Deathless One
“Magic? I’m researching ways to stop the plague.” Jessamine wanted to rip her hands from his, but she didn’t want to spark gossip in the crowd.
But who did he think he was? She was the crown princess of Inverholm! If she wanted to resort to witchcraft or black magic, then she would. If that was what it took to save her people…
A commotion erupted at the front gates. Loud voices, shouting, angry words thrown about too readily for a day of celebration. What was going on?
Leon’s gaze only flicked in that direction before he squeezed even harder. The bones in her fingers flared white-hot with pain, and she let out a little gasp before she clenched her teeth to silence it.
“Jessamine,” he hissed. “Are you still researching black magic?”
She could lie. She could tell him that she’d been a good little princess who would never touch a grimoire or spell book. Not in her life. Never.
But he planned to move into the castle, and he’d eventually find her workroom. He’d see all the glass jars full of specimens and items that no princess should touch. Bloody hearts. Black ooze. Scrapings from the infected and even a few fingers from the dead. All items used in dark magic. Not that she’d tried the spells herself, but she was researching.
Just in case. What if it helped?
What if no one else saw the answer, but she did? Her advisors were too afraid of what the covens might still do. They never tried to talk with the witches. They refused to do anything other than sit in their stupid prejudices and refuse to even consider other views.
So she straightened her shoulders and looked him dead in the eyes. “I am.”
The front gates burst open. People surged through them, angry and rioting and… oh.
Oh no.
They were infected. Twenty men and women, their eyes swollen in their sockets, black pustules dotting down their exposed arms and up their necks. Even from this distance, she could see that the boils had brokenopen on many of them. They would infect anyone they touched, or whoever got near enough for that fluid to spread. At this stage, they moved in packs. Sticking together with other infected, sometimes quite literally, as they wandered through the streets of her kingdom.
Guards raced in after them, muskets at the ready and pikes held out to keep the infected at bay.
“Kill them all!” Leon shouted, and he half turned toward the intruders.
“Corral them as usual!” she shouted, turning already and lifting her skirts to run into the brawl. They had been herding the infected into groups and keeping them separate from others, just in case there was still a chance to save them. “Those are my people, Leon. You do not get to make that call.”
“Oh, but I do.” He reached for her, grabbing her arm and yanking her back. The bruises there, the ones he’d placed in the same way a few nights ago, screamed again. “Come here, princess.”
“Let go of me!”
She struggled, but he wouldn’t let her go. He hauled her to the front of the altar, shaking her hard enough to knock the tiara from the top of her head. It clanked against the ground, rolling down the steps and onto the stones as he shouted, “The princess admits to practicing dark magic! We all know the truth—the witches spread this plague! And your would-be queen sympathizes with these people who try to kill your loved ones. For the sake of both our kingdoms, I lay claim to this castle and to the people of Inverholm,withoutthe guidance of the Harmsworth family.”
The nobles in front of her froze. Her mother stared at her, wide eyes filled with fear. And Jessamine realized this was so much worse than she had ever dreamed.
This wasn’t marrying a man for her people. It was fighting for her life as he threw her to her knees on the altar. It all happened so fast. His guards moved closer, swords raised, muskets held high, the sunlight gleaming off the edges of metal pointed at the nobility. She couldn’t hear over the sound of thunder, but then realized it was her own heartbeat in her ears.
His people had let the infected in. A distraction so they could line up behind her people, preparing to take the lives of all those she lovedso dearly. Already the infected were dead, killed by Leon’s men, but so were most of her family’s guards. Bodies littered the ground, their blood a shocking red against the pristine green-and-white marble cobblestones.
One of Leon’s men stepped forward, the black of his uniform so dark it looked like ink. He beat a hand against his chest and shouted, “Long live the king!”
Others echoed the words, and Leon stood above her like a conqueror, as though he’d done this single-handedly when she knew he wasn’t intelligent enough to do it on his own. Someone else was behind this. The thought burned so clearly through her heart it was like a brand, a premonition of truth that seared her very soul.
A few of her own nobles repeated the words, their eyes downcast, refusing to even look at her. Those who didn’t echo the phrase were the first to fall.
Her mouth hung open as the sharp points of swords and blades atop muskets dug into flesh. They pierced through lace and velvet and silk, erupting from chests and bellies. Glistening bright red.
She couldn’t hear their cries or their pleas. She couldn’t hear anything but the insistent beat of her heart telling her,Jessamine, get up. Get up. Do not let them die while staring at you on your knees.
Breath shuddering in her lungs, she forced herself to stand. The fancy lace at the bottom of her gown ripped, tearing a hole all the way to her knee. The tattered white edge hung like a funeral shroud as she met her mother’s gaze.
Her beautiful mother. Her darling, fearless, tenacious mother who had ruled this kingdom alone for twenty-two years after her father’s death. Jessamine had never known him, but she hadn’t had to. Her mother had been enough. Now a sneering, black-clad swordsman grabbed her, his blade clutched in his other hand.
“Thank you,” Leon said, stepping up behind Jessamine and wrapping an arm around her shoulders. He held her back tight to his chest, his arm a prison that forced her to freeze as the guard wrestled her mother to standing. “Your kingdom will be the perfect way to save mine. Your nightmarish plague is spilling into other kingdoms, you see. So I will throweveryone who is infected here, and you can kill each other for all I care. This place will become a dumping ground for the dead and the dying.”
