A dangerous light gleamed in his eye.
“Don’t sign that parchment, King Cedric,” the baron ordered.
Bryn’s heart shot to her throat, and she had to try to mask her fear as indignation. “You do not set the rules here, Baron Marmose—”
“Nor do you,Queen Amelia.”
Bryn heard all she needed in his tone to know that he’d figured out their ruse or at least come close enough to the truth. Her body froze as her mind spun in different possibilities.
I could order the guards to drag him out.
I could threaten King Cedric with the dungeon.
I could use a hex . . .
But could she? She was in Queen Amelia’s body, not her own, and the queen had no hexmarks that Bryn had seen. Another tremor of fear entered her mind as she thought of her real body back in their chamber, guarded by Elysander. Her sister was a fierce fighter, but she was only one woman with no magic. If Baron Marmose sent guards to her room, Elysander wouldn’t be able to stop them.
“What is the meaning of this?” King Otto thundered.
Baron Marmose swept a hand over the table, knocking the inkwell to the carpet. Queen Hanna gasped as ink stained her slippered feet. Then, the baron pulled a dagger from a hidden pocket of his vest.
Queen Yves gasped at the flash of steel.
Thrusting the dagger in Bryn’s direction, Baron Marmose said, “Queen Amelia is, in fact—”
He was cut off when Rangar grabbed a sword from the nearest guard and sliced it through the air, pausing the blade an inch from Baron Marmose’s throat. The baron’s jaw slackened, his eyes wide.
“King Rangar!” King Marthin said. “The rule is no weapons!”
“Marmose was the first to draw a blade,” Rangar said steadily, keeping the sword’s blade flush with the baron’s exposed neck. “He smuggled in a weapon, going against the rules, and what’s more, he just threatened our host and the reigning queen of the Wollin. Your own wife, my king. It is within my right to defend everyone in this room against this blackguard.”
Though it was a stretch to say the baron’s small blade posed an immediate threat to Bryn’s life, King Marthin was clearly persuaded by Rangar’s words. He turned to Bryn with deep concern in his eyes and indignity that she suffered such a fright.
“My wife. Are you all right?”
“Yes,” Bryn said, fluttering her hand to her chest. “But King Rangar is right. The baron has proven himself dishonest and must be removed immediately!”
“There’s dark magic at work here—” Baron Marmose started, until Rangar pressed the blade to his throat, and he silenced. Grimacing against the kiss of steel, the baron then whispered under his breath while his eyes scoured the room.
It took Bryn a moment too long to notice his hand subtly tracing a hex shape at his side. His gaze landed on Queen Karin. “Her! She knows something. I can sense deception in her—”
Rangar thrust his free hand over Marmose’s mouth while the blade remained against his neck. The baron gave some muffled, illegible cries, motioning between High Priest Felisian Red and Queen Karin.
The high priest’s eyes snapped to Queen Karin. His lips moved silently while his hand traced the same symbol by his side, such small movements as to be nearly unnoticeable.
“Rangar,” Bryn gasped. “They’re using magic!”
“Magic?” King Marthin said in a voice rising in surprise, and Bryn silenced a groan. The batty old king had to be the only one in the room who wasn’t entirely aware that the majority of royals had hexmarks, whether they preached their use as a sin or not.
But Rangar was too busy silencing the struggling Baron Marmose to stop High Priest Felisian Red, who strode across the library in great steps toward Queen Karin, whose eyes went wide as she backed into a corner. The priest grabbed her by the throat.
“Ultha na ragus,” he said low.
The queen’s eyes rolled back in her head as whatever spell he’d cast took her over.
King Hans, her husband, thundered across the room in defense of his wife. He threw out a hand, whispering his own hex.
“Kora yoquin tertin.”
