“He tried…I stopped him.”
And Iknew.
I knew right then what he had tried to do.
Had tried to take from her.
The roar in my ears muffled his next words.
“You didn’tstopme. You begged me for it.” Edric dragged his gaze over her with a look so lecherous I was tempted to pluck his eyes from his skull. “You weren’t as cold as you pretend to be?—”
I lashed at him. “Shut the fu?—”
“I placed that depraved dream in your head after putting you to sleep.” Quinn seethed. “I used my Twilight magic, you arrogant, despicable bastard. You were drooling on the floor while I put as much distance between us as possible, which was not much considering you had the doors warded so I could not leave.”
He locked her in?
The reasons to kill this man were piling up by the second.
Edric let out a low, vile chuckle. “Whatever you need to tell yourself, Quinnie.”
She flushed a dark red with shame she didn’t deserve. My hands shook with a fury unlike anything I had ever experienced. Despite her ability to stop him, he had every intention of taking everything he’d wanted from her. Yes, it was her body, but it was also her peace and dignity he’d threatened.
I could let none of it stand.
My sword sang as I drew it. I grabbed Edric by the hair and wrenched his head back. He yelped, face contorted in pain. I considered letting him beg for his life, but I needed this to end more than I needed his fear.
“How dare you force yourself on her!” I snarled, forcing him to look at me. “You think a crown makes you untouchable? You are no king and a pathetic excuse for a man.”
I leaned in, letting my rage seep into every syllable. “You arenothing.”
His eyes widened as my blade drove through his chest, straight through his rotten heart.
Sounds of shock rippled through the room.
Edric jerked once, his final breath fleeing his lungs in a wet, rattling wheeze. His body slumped against the desk. I stood over him, chest heaving.
Vesper broke the silence. “So…we should probably get the seven hells out of here before the court wakes up and finds their king looking like a pincushion.”
I wrenched my sword free. Blood dripped thick and steady to the floor. I looked down at my hands, at the red, and—Saints forgive me—I had no guilt or regret.
“We need to move,” I said, wiping my sword clean on Edric’s robes.
Branrir glanced down at Edric’s corpse. “This is…a historic moment. It bears documenting.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Thistle said, waving a hand. “But unless your history books have an appendix on how not to get executed for regicide, we need to run.”
Vesper pressed an ear to the door, listening for noise. “The ballroom's still quiet. What’s the plan, fellow fugitives?”
Quinn looked down at herself, at the heavy sleeves, the suffocating bodice, the ridiculous train. “Do I have time to change?” she asked, breath tight.
I shook my head.
She ripped the trailing sleeves from her arms. “Help me with this,” she said, reaching for the train.
“Gladly.”
She pivoted, and I yanked the train free. I never knew clothing could be this heavy. Quinn continued to rip fabric away, leaving her in a simpler silhouette she could move in.
