Rapunzel’s agonized scream cracks across the chamber. I may be fast, and I may be strong, but I can’t stop those shears. The weight of my failure takes me to the ground. I drop to my knees, frozen, staring at the horrific puddle of golden hair pooled at her tiny bare feet.
She collapses in a mangled mess. Oh, my fucking God. What did they do to her? The crown of her head is choppy brown, the underside long and golden. Panting and sweating, she ignores the tears that rain down her face as she reaches up with trembling hands to finger what’s left on her head. Then she heaves, spitting up bile and saliva. With wild eyes, she gathers the bits of hair and examines the loose locks as if what just happened hasn’t yet clicked in her mind. Then she lets it filter through her fingers like sand before rocking back and forth, crying as her pain fills the room like a heavy cloud.
In my peripheral vision, I see Wren charge John. He has the fucker captive at the tip of his sword. “You’re fucking dead.”
“She comes with me,” John threatens, laughing like a madman.
No, I don’t fucking think so.
I pop to my feet. Focus my attention on the soldier brandishing those shears. He lowers them toward Rapunzel’s head. I didn’t sacrifice my soul to stand here and do nothing while my woman dies.
With a swipe of my sword and a flick of my wrist, I open the soldier’s throat. I watch with savage satisfaction as his blood seeps out in a deep, crimson rivulet down the front of his tunic. He drops the shears with a gasp and backs away from Rapunzel. Chokes on a mouthful of blood that splatters out to spray my face. He stumbles over his feet to slide in his blood, grasping at his severed neck. Finally, he falls, landing in a heap, dead.
Livid, John points at me and opens his mouth to say something, but he isn’t dictating the situation. We are. “I want you to beg for your miserable life.”
“Go fuck yourself, Quinn Redgrave,” John sneers.
“How brave of you,” I say with a nasty laugh. “Brave, but incredibly stupid.”
I’m about to sheath my sword—I intend to rip this bastard’s heart out—but more footfalls thunder down the corridor. They stop at the threshold, and before my warning to Wren even leaves me, he’s already yanking a weak and whimpering Rapunzel to her feet. He shoves her behind him, putting his body between her and the doorway.
Between her and whatever threat may burst through that door.
But it’s not a threat. At least that’s not what I see first—because I can’t look past the familiar green eyes staring back at me.
Eleanor.
She’s grown, but she’s still a tiny thing. Still dark-haired and full of fire. Last I saw her, she was two years younger. Lifetimes more innocent. The naive girl Edgar Redgrave and Stephan of Glasburg gave to John as a bride is gone. There is only a battered woman saturated in soul-crushing pain and misery, and when she reaches for me, she’s tugged back by a soldier threatening her with a dagger at her throat.
I’m going to kill him too.
“I repeat, I am king,” John taunts. He smooths his clothes. Runs his fingers through his hair. All to regain his lost dignity in front of the handful of soldiers that file into the room.
The soldier nicks Eleanor’s neck when I charge John. It’s a warning that stops me cold.
“Not even you’re quick enough to kill us before one of my men takes your sister or Rapunzel with us.” John’s laughter rings out as he clasps his hands behind his back. “Seems that puts us at an impasse.” He looks down with disgust, pulls back his leg, and kicks the dead soldier at his feet. “Useless,” he mutters. But to me, “At least you are a worthy opponent, as one would expect from a Redgrave.”
“No!” Eleanor’s strained scream damn near shatters me. “Please, John, don’t do this. Please, I beg you.”
He gives her a sardonic grin. “I’ll certainly have you begging, my dear wife. I promise you that. Oh, yes, I’ll enjoy keeping you obedient while your brother watches.”
Pushed too far, I strike, swinging my sword with swift and lethal precision that slices my way through four soldiers. Through the bang of blades and the screams of the men I fell, I hear John’s single command.
Issued calmly.
Eerily concise.
“Kill her.”
I whip around in time to see the soldier holding the blade to my sister’s neck nod. The dagger glints in the firelight. I lunge toward him, and I watch as he gasps, the dagger slipping from his hand. His eyes are wide as his chin falls to rest on his chest. Glazed eyes settle on his chest as if searching for something that isn’t there. I stab a shallow strike through his heart and grin over the dying man’s shoulder at Sir Walter. His blade dug into the soldier’s back.
“No one touches our queen,” Sir Walter hisses.
This man just earned my eternal loyalty.
Indeed.
Sir Walter yanks his weapon free, and we slaughter three more soldiers together. Fissions of energy slither across my nerves when I feel a familiar presence join us.Dax. I glance to my right and see he’s just killed someone who tried to attack Sir Walter from behind.
