His scowl sharpens. It practically scrapes across my neck. “I will deal with her,” he mutters. A slight nod is the only apology I get.
My gulp gives away my youth. Galen is a seasoned tree; he knows how to weather storms. I am just a sapling.
“Search the grounds for the assassin. They likely headed to the main gates,” King Galen orders the soldiers on duty. “I owe General Titus my sincerest apology. I heard whispers that the fae nobles were seeking the death of my warrior.”
Everett’s dying face flashes through my mind.
“I hoped these nobles would act with dignity, but emotions are still running high.” King Galen makes a show of shaking his head.
My neck stiffens. I watch Galen weave a lie to excuse his wife, who wants me dead.
I glance at Tristen; if anyone looked at the angle of his feet, they would see he is ready to defend me, not King Galen.
Galen places a hand on my shoulder.That’s a hard grip. “I will deal with them.” His hold grows to bone-crushing strength before he drops his arm. “I am happy my beautiful wife did not bear witness to what her people did. Nobles whom I have allowed to live and dine in my court.”
Shouts of anger bounce off the chandeliers.
He continues, “I know their actions would embarrass her deeply. Queen Selene, like me, just wants peace.”
I doubt that.
“My lands will be safe for everyone. A place children can grow, laugh, and play without the fear of an invasion.” More cheers. “Know this, I will have peace! I will punish anyone who dares to attack us.” His hand rests on the hilt of his blade, not with rage; no, he sweeps his fingers over it with glee.
Then, Galen’s gaze meets mine. “Come with me.”
Stay away!I shake my head at Tristen. Fellow warriors clap my back and promise vengeance for the crime against me.
King Galen and I, along with a dozen men, exit the hall and make our way through the castle. “General Harold,” the king thunders, “find Princess Sable. Bring her to the dungeons.”
“The dungeons?”
“Did I stutter?”
“No, my king.” Harold nods and rushes off.
“What of the queen? Should I go find her?” a soldier whose name I do not know asks.
It will cost him. He wants the queen to suffer in a way some vile men think.
Galen moves fluidly. A sharp intake of breath cuts through the air. Galen plunges his sword into the soldier’s heart.
Some smile, and others, like me, carefully school their features.
Galen holds his sword there. We wait until death claims him.
“The price for questioning me,” Galen states. He treats men as mere food he can toss aside. “Hold him,” he orders the two closest soldiers.
Galen steps back, pulls his sword out, then wipes it clean on the soldier’s shoulder.
In the end, that’s what we are to King Galen. Nothing.
Every victory I had in battle, not counting Everett’s death, is now sour. A nightmare that will haunt me.
“Get rid of him. If anyone asks, he was conspiring with the fae nobles.”
I don’t know how my feet move. Somehow they do. Eventually, we reach the end of the hall.
“Stay here,” Galen orders the men. He pushes a stone. The wall groans like an elderly human whom sleep has yet to claim. They must endure another long, cold, lonely morning full of aches and pains.
