Galen turns like a tide, his robes sweeping around him in a measured grace. “What?” he replies. His gaze narrows, spotting all the dirt and stains on my clothes. He lingers on the dirt under my fingernails. “You need rest,” he mutters to himself.
I sink into the wall, allowing my cheek to press into the cold, polished stone. I raise my chin higher.I’ll never bow to you again, Galen. “War.” I stagger as I push off the wall. He knows I’ll never back down; no state of exhaustion will stop me from throwing a dagger his way. “When will you have enough?”
His gaze stretches for as long as the sun rises and sets before he replies, “War is the purpose of life.” His turn is a sword’s edge—sharp, deadly. He’ll never stop.
I shake my head, “It is the antithesis. All the wars you have fought have been to claim everything.” I sway forward, taking a step to balance myself. “The enemy you battle now doesn’t care about crowns and castles. Sable fights to end it all. And she will.”
His heel digs into the floor, practically burning a hole in the carpet runner. His lack of reply shows his regret in allowing her to return home. We soon reach the staircase. The view of his kingdom forces his eyes to gaze out of the window. The smoothness of his brow crinkles like balled-up paper.
He barks to one of the guards, “Tell Adrian to call in the reserves. I want everyone who can hold a sword here.” His hand searches for the sword on his belt, as a child holds a teddy bear.
“That won’t save you,” I mutter. The hilt is so shiny it would slip from Galen's hand in battle.
He nods to himself as his lips pinch into a smirk before he ascends the staircase.
It’s time to push him over the edge. Make the self-doubts whispering in his mind scream so loud he can’t think clearly. I need you weak so I can kill you.
“I can hold a sword,” I mock.
“I’d much rather you held something else.”
The gap between us shrinks. “Your heart in my hands?” I snicker. My breath tickles his neck.
That neck is going to be so relieved once your head is freed from it.
I continue, “I know you’re not referring to your manhood, or lack thereof.” I turn my head and shout to Jonas, Galen’s trusted bodyguard. He’s been a loyal dog whose beady eyes are always watching me. Galen has seen it, but does nothing. Galen likes it when other men drool over me. It makes him think I’m a bigger trophy than I am. “By all means,” I halt. “Drop your trousers and hand me a knife. Consider it a two-for-one special; you get to witness my sword skills and see your cock in my hands again.”
Galen angles his head; the light from one of the stained-glass windows glints off his crown, casting small rainbows all over the path. “Oh, Selene,” he shakes his head slowly, but underneath his banter is genuine fear. My comments about how foolish he was to trust Sable have sunk deep, piled with the rumors of the blood being poisoned.
“Is that gray hair?” I nudge my eyes to his treasured mane. ‘Bad hair day’ has never left his lips. “I see your fingers itching to pluck it out.”
“You’ll pay for this.”
"Me?" I raise my bound wrist to my heart, feigning innocence. "A queen doesn’t pay, Galen, her king does. Or have you lost all chivalry?" I laugh in his face. "You need to choose your queen: the ornament who lets her husband fix her mistakes, or the fighter who points out his faults so he can fix them. Tick tock, Galen. Sable approaches with the armyyougave her."
“You will pay,” he repeats, voice dragging low and dark, thick with threat. Is that meant to scare me? My heart hammers, but I refuse to let him see it.
“Don’t you mean Sable? You’ve been fucking her for so long, don’t tell me you can’t tell us apart by now. I’ll give you a clue; all those times she seduced you were because she was plotting to steal your kingdom, and all the times I seduced you were simply to make you shut up so I could sleep soundly.”
“Keep lying to yourself. You wanted me.”
“Let me embody an echo.” I clear my throat. “Keep lying to yourself. You. Wanted. Me. Galen.”
Oh, yes. I won this round.
I need to make him feel less and less, to question every turn in this castle. The news of his paranoia and madness will reach the inner gates by nightfall.
Now it’s time to make Jonas start to doubt Galen’s control over his kingdom.
Turning, I say, “How do you feel, Jonas? Stomach aching from the poisoned blood? It will start soon.”
His worry is a worm that digs lines into his forehead. “You’ve been guarded. It wasn’t you. It…” His eyes glance at Galen. “It was the twin, wasn’t it? Sable poisoned us, then left. She planned this.”
It’s an assumption that works in my favor.
I sell the fear, knowing it will keep Titus’s true reason for spitting the blood out secret. “I warned Galen that Sable was conniving. But he was too busy fucking her to listen to me.”
Galen’s eyes sharpen like fangs ready to tear into my neck.
