She kissed the inside of his wrist, not wanting to kiss his blistered cheek. “I love you, too, Your Highness.”
Clover jogged to the side of the stage and hid out of sight, then dropped her glamour that had shielded Amos’ escape. She then glamoured herself invisible and came out of her hiding spot. People couldn’t see her, but they could see the mangled cage Amos had escaped.
The crowd was in an uproar, and just as she’d hoped, Paul climbed the steps to the stage with Jennifer in tow. His guards took up residence near the bottom of the stairs.
Clover took her time climbing the stage. She wanted Paul to really talk himself up about how much better of a king he was than Amos, he didn’t disappoint.
She stood behind him, listening to him to drone on, until she realized he might go on forever. Clover dropped her glamour and had Paul shoved to his knees and a dagger to his throat in record time. Amos would be proud, but he didn’t get to see it because Paul tried to kill him, and nearly succeeded.
Jennifer screamed and ran, but Clover didn’t pay her any mind. She wouldn’t get far.
Paul struggled against her hold, and she laughed as she pressed her dagger deeper into his neck. His whimper felt like a reward.
“You were taught that women are property or something you can break and throw away when you’re done,” Clover snarled, ripping Paul’s head back so she could see his eyes. “I was taught to survive men like you.”
Paul flailed, but she held tight and whistled. Rainer dropped his glamour on the Hydra, revealing a female warrior standing behind every rebel soldier. Together, they dragged their blades across the men’s necks, watching as they dropped to the ground.
When Paul’s body went limp, she released his hair, letting him fall forward onto the stage. Around her, the last of his rebels collapsed, their bodies folding into quiet, bloody heaps.
Clover straightened, lifting her gaze to the crowd, making sure her voice held strong. “The age of tyranny is over.”
31
ONE WEEK LATER
Amos glared at the white cotton covering his hands like mitts. Between Clover and Alice, he might never see his hands again.
“You don’t need to scratch,” Clover whispered. “Stop it.”
He slitted his eyes at her. “Are you the one whose skin is peeling off?” Who knew flaking skin felt like fleas were attacking you?
Clover pursed her lips. If she laughed, he was shoving this cotton in her mouth and spanking her. “We need to unlock your hands before we speak, but if you can’t go without scratching, you’ll have to deal with a nickname, like King Bunny Tail Hands.”
“You’re a twenty-five-year-old queen and the best you could come up with was Bunny Tail Hands?” he asked, trying to keep a straight face. The more annoyed she was now, the better their sex would be tonight.
“Just give me your hands,” she muttered and started unwrapping the bandages imprisoning his fingers.
“Are you two ready?” Sariah asked. “Everyone is waiting.”
Amos dug his fingers into the back of Clover’s hair and brought her in for a quick kiss. “Are you ready, little viper?”
“I should be asking you that. She was your best friend.”
“Sasha is my best friend,” he corrected, even though he hadn’t seen the dragon since the day she’d saved him. “I’d kill Jennifer myself if I hadn’t promised that honor to someone else.”
They filed into the cave at the den’s entrance, and Amos tried not to look affected by the amount of women filling the space. With new rulers and laws changing, the sacrifices don’t have to stay hidden. They can leave and live a life wherever they want. Some have elected to leave, but many have chosen to live in the den. Amos hoped they at least ventured into the village more.
Knowing how many women were in the den and physically seeing it are incomparable. The Hydra was made up of warriors all over the kingdom, but it started with these women, even the ones who couldn’t fight back, like Marjorie.
That’s why all the women are here: they want justice for Marjorie Rose.
Clover and Amos went to every woman to pay their respects. Some shied away from Amos, still not trusting men, and he couldn’t blame them.
They took their places at the head of the room, nearest the cliff. “Bring her in,” Clover demanded.
Jennifer begged and pleaded for them to spare her as Ruth frogmarched her into the center of the large room. She could cry until she’s blue in the face and it wouldn’t do it any good.
“It’s sad that a woman so beautiful on the outside could have such a wicked heart,” Clover observed, eyes flicking over Jennifer’s dirty, tear-streaked face.
