Staring down, transfixed, Elysia knew she should be running, but her limbs were numb, her brain buzzing silently.
Around them, the party came to an abrupt halt. People scattered, avoiding the fallout while craning their necks.
The music cut with an ear-piercing shriek of a violin. Waiters toppled into guests, trays soaring into the air and drinks falling down like rain. Eyes wide, people couldn’t look away from the heir to the Kavian throne—on his knees, bloodied and violent like an animal in the woods.
Court ladies screamed as if they hadn’t seen hundreds of people swing, hundreds of necks severed in the main square. But somewhere across the room, far from being a lady of the court, the Doorman grinned.
He might not have ended up dead on the beach with the House’s crest branded onto his skin, but his life debt leaked across the floor in a scarlet river and that was good enough. Elysia finally looked up from the massacre to see the Doorman holding up a glass in cheers, then disappearing out the door.
Seconds later, guards rushed to the scene. Shoving through the crowds, the king and her father fought their way to the front. She could hear them shouting for people to move.
Grabbing the back of Topp’s shirt, the king heaved, tearing his son off the diplomat and tossing him aside. The tangled canopy was left behind, a veil over Scarzan’s body. Topp grunted, landing hard on his side. He shoved back up to his feet, anger still hardening his jaw.
Bits of gossamer fabric floated down in tiny shreds, several more of the gauzy tents destroyed in the chaos. Elysia watched itfall, sticking to people and the floor like confetti.It looks like the soot.
She jolted, feeling her father’s large, warm hand settle on the back of her neck like a vise. Her eyes darted to Topp, a few feet away, shaking out his bloodied hands.
A dark storm of anger still vibrated out of him. And then there was Scarzan, motionless upon the beautiful marble and labradorite floors. Sprayed with blood, it wasn’t his face that was the horror. It was the back of his skull. Caved in with bone and brain matter smashed onto the floor.
Her eyes went back to Topp. Everyone had masks. Roles they had to play. Characters to get them by. Butthis, this felt like his mask had cracked open tonight as well, revealing an ugly, but honest shade of him. He wasn’t wearing a crown tonight. He rarely did. She wondered if it was because he knew it didn’t fit. Thathedidn’t fit.
Whatever his plans were, the man who had been her friend, her lover—that was who had just stepped up like a tempest made flesh.
The king’s voice rang out with a quiet anger, silencing the whispers in the room. “Both of you, follow me.” There was no question of who he was speaking to—everyone’s face swiveled to her and Topp like they were on a stage. He strode for the door, muttering beneath his breath. “And someone, call the fucking medics.”
Elysia swallowed. She didn’t think the medics were going to be able to fixthat.If he wasn’t dead, then poison would finish the job. But she trailed after Topp, her father only a step from her heels. She could feel all the eyes in the room as they left—could feel the whirlwind of rumors being birthed, ready to race out into the night, far beyond these doors.
Let them whisper about a prince who would kill for his woman.It was a luscious tale even if it did end with brains onthe floor. One that would have everyone forgetting the weight of a Bellian politician dead at the Golden Seal’s farewell party. Hearing the clucking gasps as she exited, Elysia knew this was one story that would travel far and wide. Everyone loved a romance. Especially one with death and betrayal.
As the doors closed, she heard her mother’s voice, light as air, drawing everyone’s attention to a tower of imported effervescent wine. Maybe it was the lack of oxygen and then watching a man die, but Elysia laughed. One short, dark chuckle. Her mother was high if she thought a bit of sparkling wine could distract from a dead diplomat with his skull bashed in. Topp looked over his shoulder with a smirk, like he knew exactly what she was thinking.
The king flung open the door to a room that Elysia guessed belonged to a cartographer. Maps were strewn about, along with pencils and small sharp measuring tools. They all filed into the room, her father and the king taking up similar stances with their feet wide and arms crossed. She was used to her father intimidating her. But she would be safe for now.
It was their little secret that he loathed her more than he ever loved her. That he couldn’t help himself from punishing her. With the king two feet away, he wouldn’t lift a finger.
And Garrison had always been the picture of a patient father. Most kings would have forced Topp’s hand by now. Late twenties, it was more than time for him to begin taking over the day-to-day duties of the Crown. But Garrison always seemed to trust that Topp would rise to the occasion, never doubting his capacity to one day rule in his stead.
But tonight they’d murdered a man. In front of the entire court. Maybe Topp had finally found his father’s limit.
King Garrison stood tensely. His fingers pinching the bridge of his nose and eyes squeezed shut. The tone of his voicerecommended that Topp consider his reply very, very carefully. “Explain.”
Topp met his father’s eyes, green to gray, his expression slightly bored. As if he’d asked him about a game of rocks and not the brutal death he’d delivered five doors down.
His mouth went flat, expression shifting to one that said the answer should be obvious to anyone with a functioning brain. Shoving his hands into his pockets, he immediately took one out and ran it through wood-brown hair before finally answering.
“You know how Scarzan is. Always leaving a trail of mangled women in every city he visits.” He pinned his father with a look, daring the king to contradict him.
In spite of the bold statement, his tone was dry and matter of fact. It was the voice of someone who’d experienced a lifetime of people always believing him—why wouldn’t they now?
His father stared at him, impatient and wanting more of an explanation than that.
Topp leaned back against a map-covered desk, kicking his legs out and crossing one ankle over the other. He was the image of a prince, unbothered and completely unrepentant. He took his time to answer, his words slow and thoughtful.
“I went looking for Elysia, and when I found her, Scarzan had his hands wrapped around her throat.” Topp looked at her briefly, his face giving away his uncertainty of whether he should say the rest of what had happened. His voice went gruff. “That wasn’t all he tried to do.”
He looked both of their fathers in the eyes, ensuring they felt the weight of his words. Gooseflesh covered Elysia’s arms as the air in the room grew charged. Topp’s hands gripped the desk, shoulders turning in as he spoke. There was a low, hard quality to his voice that gave no room for rebuttals.
“He would have killed her. You might not have given a shit about what he did at the House, but you’re out of your fuckingminds if you think I was going to stand there as he turned Elysia’s neck black and blue. Fuckdiplomacy.I am theCrownand you do nottouchwhat is the Crown’s. Or are we rolling over now and letting scum like that do what they want while in our kingdom?” His words ended in a near growl, his eyes searing into them.
