Page 28 of Die With Your Lord
“I give you two days and you plan to spend them in my vault?” he asked me in a dry tone. One eyebrow rose and the low light made the golden dust on his cheekbones stand out brighter than it normally was.
“I thought you were hunting the Hounds of Heaven.”
He waved a hand. “I have vassals for that. I find that you are growing to be more trouble than the worth of your prize.”
“Will you put my heart on a shelf, then?” I asked him, boldly.
“It’s rather less cruel than a shelf of animated heads, don’t you think?” he asked me. “Isn’t that what your beloved husband has? A shelf of his conquered enemies, still there to consult at will?”
How did he know that? His eyes sharpened as if he’d seen the confirmation in my eyes.
“Everywhere I go, there you are. In my way. In my business. Do you not yet see how it is you and you alone who has brought the Arrow of the Wittenhame to his knees and to his final end?” I risked a glance over my shoulder at Bluebeard. His eyes were shut, lips slightly parted, and squished against my shoulder. “His weakness for you left him open to my blow. And all your meanderings enmeshed him in the plots that sought his life. And now, when it is all over, you desecrate his corpse by dragging him ever onward.”
Coppertomb clicked his tongue in censure.
“Then why don’t you kill me?” I pressed. Because why hadn’t he? He was always here accusing, thwarting, placing geases on me, but never directly acting. “Why don’t you dry my heart for your shelf? Why don’t you take my husband from me.” He was silent, and my eyebrows rose of their own accord as I pressed. “He protects me yet, does he not? You cannot touch me with more than your accusations.”
“That doesn’t mean that I can’t hurt you,” he said, and he reached out and plucked Sparrow’s head from my lantern pole. “Will you bury your husband and bow to me if I take from you your friends and advisors?”
“No,” I whispered.
“Really?” He tilted his head to one side. “What if I threaten their afterlives? There’s no returning from fire,” he said, striding over to one of the bright lamp holders.
“There’s no need for that!” Grosbeak said shrilly.
Sparrow, on the other hand, had her jaw set in a grim line.
“I thought you had a kingdom to rule,” I said sharply. “Have you nothing better to employ you than taunting me?”
He raised a single brow. “Have you not seen how the sky falls? The rotting husk of your husband rots my reign. I must see him buried and his works burned to ash or risk watching the Wittenhame rot with him.”
And then with a flick of his wrist, the lamp beside him flared up to bright flame and he tossed Sparrow’s head within it like he was tossing a bean bag for a harvest game. Her scream echoed through his vault and then she hit the flame and went up like a dry field put to the torch.
A cry ripped from my lungs, too, and I stumbled forward, only to feel hands dragging me back. Bluebeard’s eyes were still shut, his head still resting on my shoulder, but somehow, he restrained me as Coppertomb flicked imaginary lint off his clothing.
“A reminder that I am the Bramble King and I have told you to bury your dead. Do it now, or see more losses.”
I couldn’t tear my eyes away from the remains of Sparrow’s flaming head. Sweat broke out on my brow and tears stung my eyes. I hadn’t liked Sparrow much, but she was owed so much more than this.
Trembling, I turned to Coppertomb. I still had enough strength to spit in his direction.
“If you were truly the Bramble King, then you wouldn’t need to keep reminding us of it.”
“Ooooh … direct hit!” Grosbeak crowed but Coppertomb strode forward two steps, tilted my chin up, met my eyes, and said coolly.
“Two days. There’s a shovel in the corner. You can bury him here in my crypt if you must. You won’t be going anywhere else. When I leave here, I will bar the entrance to you. Think on what I’ve said. I could spare you. I could return you to the mortal world when the coronation is complete, if only you do as I request. And my request is so very reasonable.”
“I think that you make promises you have no power to keep and threats you have no ability to carry out,” I said but even to my own ears, my voice was weak and terrified.
He snapped his fingers and left in a burst of smoke.
“Needless dramatics,” I muttered.
“Coppertomb is a delight,” Grosbeak purred. “He never misses an opportunity to puff and display. Puts a peacock to shame. And to think he was not even a lord in the last game and now he is Bramble King.” He sighed happily. “The Wittenhame is the best place imaginable.”
“Tell that to Sparrow,” I said bitterly.
“Fortunately, I won’t have to,” Grosbeak said easily. “I no longer have a rival for your ear and affections, and I find that is exactly as I prefer it.”
