“You will bow before your queen until she says otherwise.” Sorin’s tone sends a shiver down my spine.
My staggered breathing is all I can hear as the rest of the room falls silent. Keeping my eyes on the hunter, he drops down to his knees. Sorin opens his mouth again, but I place a hand on his forearm, and he snaps his mouth shut.
As I step forward, the wolves join me. “State your name, hunter.”
Sorin’s hand flexes in my peripherals. The hunter remains silent at first, his face contorting into disgust.
“Your queen asked you a question.” Sorin takes another step forward, the guards at the bottom of the dais stiffening.
“She is not my queen,” he says. “Just as you are not my king?—”
The guard behind the hunter tightens his grip, yanking his hair back and whispering things I cannot hear.
I clench my jaw, fingers clamped tightly together as I make my way off the dias until I’m only a few feet from the prisoner. “You were a sworn hunter to King Roman, is that correct?”
The man grunts, his eyes narrowed.
“Do you deny the crimes you committed, hunter?”
“No.” He shakes his head as the guard grips the back of his neck, whispering something in his ear again. “No,Your Majesty.”
The wolves at my sides lower their heads, but as I run a finger down the Ruse’s back, they settle. “The punishment for your crimes is death. Are you aware of this?”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
My throat tightens, but I force myself to keep my chin held high.
He deserves this, susi.
A few beats of silence pulse through the throne room.
“However,” I say. “Lady Mordona of the Bloodstone Guild has happily agreed to take one more prisoner to aid in the mining of the Montrok Caves.”
The room murmurs, faint whispers echoing against the stone walls. The last of the guards and hunters around Teravie have all been tried and either killed or sent to the caves of the Bloodstone Guild for mining, as Sorin suggested for repayment for her help.
The Montrock Caves are the farthest point South in Teravie. I’m not sure the sentence is much of a kindness considering how cruel Lady Mordona is known to be. Not to mention the legends of the magickal beings that reside in the caves. Known to keep to the dark, hoarding the precious gems for themselves.
“I’ll ask you again to state your name,” I say, bending down so only he can hear me.
“Frederick Bellthorn,” he says with a thick swallow.
“Frederick Bellthorn,” I repeat. “You have hurt countless Enchantress, have aided in one of the most brutal slaughters our country has ever seen. Have devastated an entire nation.”
He has the audacity to smile, and my magick pushes against my skin at the sight.
“I regret none of it, Your Majesty,” he snarls. “You and that bastard will see. When the Enchantresses overtake you, you’ll see how wrong you were to give them their freedom back.”
My magick snakes through my palms, settling around the oxygen flowing through his lungs. “Speak ill of my husband again,” I say, pressing my magick tighter and tighter, “and it will be the last thing you do.”
His eyes bulge, the lack of air turning his face blue.
I drop my hands and take a step backward. “Lady Mordona is waiting for you,” I say over my shoulder before glancing at my guards. “Take him away.”
Fifty-Three
Samaria
In the last several weeks,Elora and Sorin have been so wrapped up with meetings that I’ve hardly seen them, save for rare visits to Elora’s office. Jarek and Cora have also been inseparable, getting ready for their departure and catching up on years of missed conversations.
