Only the objector and his friend pushed their way to the front. Violet knew more people agreed with them, but they must not be suicidal.
Roman motioned for the men to stand on the dais. Once satisfied, he walked to Violet. “I need you to stand with War.”
She glanced between Roman and the men. “You can’t kill them.”
Roman’s lips quirked. “I’m not going to.” He pressed a hand to his heart. “I promise.” He’d never lied to her, but his rage still burned bright.
Pursing her lips, she moved back to the middle of the dais next to War. Roman might not kill the men, but he would hurt them, of that, she was sure.
The men looked around, one of them having the good sense to be nervous, while the other remained unaware that the unhinged king had lured him into a trap.
“If you have an issue with my wife being your queen, you will state your reasoning,” Roman announced loud enough for everyone up front to hear.
The first man rambled about the sanctity of the mate bond, the dangers of diluting the royal bloodline, and how Roman should find his original mate and force her to marry him. With every word, Roman’s internal inferno grew, as did War’s growls, and Violet almost told the man to shut up to ease the ache in her chest.
“And you?” Roman asked the other man, who paled.
“I, uh, I agree,” he stammered.
Roman smiled without warmth. “Please turn to my wife so that you may look her in the eye as you denounce her.”
The first man spun around, and the sneer on his face had Violet stepping back. The other man turned but kept his eyes on the ground. Roman placed himself in front of the men and turned to address the audience. “Their complaints have been heard.” He withdrew his sword. “And denied.” Faster than Violet could track, Roman cut the tendons above their knees in one fell swoop. They both cried out and crumpled to the ground with rivulets of blood running down their legs.
Violet screamed and covered her mouth. She’d known he would hurt them, yet it shocked her all the same. Searching the sea of faces around her, she spotted Slayton and called his name. “Fetch a healer. Hurry.” Her friend saluted her with a wink and disappeared into the crowd.
Why does everyone act like Roman’s actions aren’t disturbing?
He grabbed both men by their collars and dragged them down the steps of the dais, throwing them to the ground.
The king re-ascended the steps, took the crown from his mother, and zeroed in on Violet. Closing the distance between them, he placed the crown on her head and projected his voice to the stunned crowd. “If you refuse to accept your queen, you will forever kneel before her.”
His gaze held Violet hostage as he dropped to one knee and bowed his head. The crowd followed suite, lowering to the ground like a wave rolling toward the shore. Even War laid on his belly at her feet. Violet’s heart nearly beat out of her chest, and when Roman lifted his head, that blasted organ jumped right into her throat.
He reached for her hand and pressed it to his chest. “I will spend the rest of my life on my knees for you, Your Grace.”
Fighting against the stinging in her eyes and nose, she lowered herself to the ground. “And I, you, but I’m not calling you Your Grace.”
Laughter burst out of him, and he yanked her into a deep kiss. She knew her love flowed down the bond to him, just as his filled every part of her.
A throat cleared behind them, jerking them from their little bubble. “It’s time to present the people with their queen,” Sarah said fondly and rejoined her husband.
Together, Roman and Violet stood and walked to the edge of the dais. Roman held up their joined hands and boomed, “Long live Queen Violet!”
The crowd erupted with cheers and clapping, and to Violet’s surprise, she saw genuine happiness on the faces of their people.
* * *
“No one is to enter the throne room,” Roman instructed the man and woman guarding the throne room doors. He dug into his pocket and pulled out balls of cotton. “And put these in your ears.”
The guards hesitantly took the cotton from his open palm, dutifully stuck it in their ears, and promised to guard the doors with their lives.
“Was that really necessary?” Violet asked Roman once he’d closed the doors. “I don’t think visiting the throne room requires an infantry on high alert. Why are we here anyway?”
Roman said nothing as he led her to their thrones. Two oversized high-back chairs made of solid gold with purple velvet cushions covering the back and seat. He positioned himself behind her and kissed her neck. “We need to bless our thrones.”
She laughed and reached back to hook her hand around the back of his neck. “And how do we do that,prince?”
Smoothing his hand across her silky skin, he dipped one hand into the front of her dress and cupped her breast. “By coating them with the queen’s cum.”
