Please.
Kings don’t say please.
My mouth opens—
“This is not what I expected.”
But I lose the chance to tell him that I finally believe him, and that I love him, too—
BecauseAmosis here, but he’s not alone.
Oh no.
He’s silhouetted at the far end of the passage, backlit by the light spilling in from whatever door he came through. Abigail is in his grip, wedding dress torn at the shoulder, and her face white with terror at having a gun pressed to her temple.
No no no.
This wasn’t supposed to happen. Keeping her alive is the reason why I forced myself to come here. But I still failed. And Abigail is still in danger losing her life.
“Now, Your Majesty...”
Should have we expected this? Should we have remembered that thingscanchange, every time we jump worlds and timelines?
Amos suddenly tosses something towards us, and my stomach twists itself in knots when metal cuffs clatter across the stone before landing near my feet. “Cuff him. Or I kill all of you.”
My hands shake as I kneel beside my king on the close floor, and they shake even more when I try closing the metal around his wrists.
“It’s okay, Bailey.”
His voice is low and calm, and it helps steady my fingers even though a part of me is still reeling. How can this be happening?How?
“Now get back to your feet and slowly back away...”
My legs threaten to fold as I force myself to do as he asks.
“Let both of them go.” Devyn’s voice is flat as he addresses Amos. “Whatever it is you’re planning—they’re only going to slow you—”
“Shut up!”
My heart nearly leaps out of my chest at the sudden violence that sharpens Amos’ words. He looked so...in control earlier. But now it’s as if he’s just one tantrum away from pulling the trigger and killing all of us.
“Do you think you’re still in the position to issue commands?”
As Amos starts yelling at Devyn, I notice Abigail trying to catch my eye—
“You’re no king now! Don’t you see that?”
I follow the direction of the gaze.
An alcove carved into the stone wall to her left, deep in shadow, and something in it catches the thin light. A faint sparkle. Hewhay’s shimmer. And beneath it, half-buried in dust and cobwebs—
A rusty pair of scissors.
I start to bend down.
“Stop right there!” Amos swings the gun toward me.
Abigail wrenches free and runs.
