Prince Eldrik.
His long coat was bloodstained and scorched, his hair damp. Behind him stood Calveron soldiers, and hundreds more were outside, maybe more by the sounds of battle beyond the gates that shook the walls.
A soldier tossed Theia against her mother among the crowd and Alora was forced to her knees beside her father.
“Well,” Eldrik said, his voice deceptively calm. “You have certainly spat on the goodwill of my House. Not only did you slaughter my father when he could hardly stand, you sank my fleet.” He clicked his tongue in annoyance. “Ships are rather expensive.”
“Eldrik—” Laurent tried to rise but a soldier kicked him in the stomach, and he bent, coughing.
“Stop it!” Alora cried.
“I don’t care for begging. Especially not from those who have wrong me.” Rising, Eldrik slowly climbed down the stairs, footsteps echoing in the room. Yet he didn’t look angry. He looked pleased. “We had made peace, Laurent,” he mused. “And you broke it. Now I aim to break you.”
Alora’s entire body trembled at the glee in his eyes. “If you touch him?—”
“You will do what, exactly?” Eldrik said, glancing toward her. “Though we truly held no contest against yourmightydragon and his demons, but then you sent him away.” A slow cruel smile cut across his face. “Ingenious thing those mirrors. Thank you for leaving them for me.”
She clenched her teeth, shaking in place. Her trap against Rune … now worked against her. Even if she called for him now, he couldn’t help.
Why, why had she not confirmed the prince’s death?
“Really, a princess has no place at the war table.” Eldrik crouched in front of her, sneering in her face. “Did you truly believe the full extent of Calveron’s forces had been on your shores? We are thegreatestcourt in Arthal. We are thousands in number, and tonight, your people will fall.”
Outside the city rumbled with explosions.
Alora bit back a sob. “Please don’t do this.”
Eldrik turned to her father. “Can’t say I’m disappointed in this turn of events. I had wanted to crush your little pathetic army and plant your head on the walls. My father chose diplomacy, and it cost him. I will not make the same mistake.”
He drew his sword. The queen squeezed her eyes shut. Laurent looked to Alora, his gaze shadowed by sorrow and something else. Acceptance and a silent apology.
“Close your eyes,” he said softly.
“No, please,” Alora wept, straining against the soldier’s grip. She trashed, her cries frantic as the prince lifted his sword. “Please, Eldrik. Please don’t!No!”
The blade flashed.
Her father’s head struck the stone floor with a sickening thud. Blood splattered and his crown rolled past her knees, echoing like a death knell.
Alora screamed.
She folded over herself, holding her stomach as though the blow had cleaved her in two. The nobles watched silently, cowering in the corners.
Eldrik grabbed a handful of Laurent’s hair and lifted the head into the air. Firelight shone in her father’s blank eyes, scarlet dripped from his severed neck.
“Where one falls!”Eldrik bellowed.
“Two will rise!”his men thundered back, pounding their breastplates six times in perfect unison.
The sound rolled like a storm-thunder through the hall, drowning Alora’s cries.
Then Eldrik leveled his bloodied blade at the Queen’s neck. “Do you yield?”
Delphi trembled, her complexion pale, but her gaze fixed blankly on the throne. “We yield…” she said hollowly. “Take her to Arthal. She’s yours.”
Alora hardly reacted. She was not surprised her stepmother had bartered her away with a single breath.
Eldrik’s laughter boomed in the chamber. He tapped the blade against the steps like a gavel. “At least one of you has kept their head.”
