Page 74 of The Queen’s Bodyguard

He could hear the nervous breaths of more than just Theora—everyone seemed on edge. The stench of sweat covered by perfume permeated the air. And Pyre was watching him carefully from her place at the meeting table, as if still not convinced. As if still blaming him.

It was more than clear who had petitioned to get him away from the table.

Finally, Pyre turned back to the judge with the flat response of “Fine.”

It was only then that he saw it. Theora reached forward to pick up her glass of water and…something was wrong.

Argos leaped to his feet and rushed forward. Pyre, seeing him, leaped up, too, with a screech of her heavy chair. Theora had barely begun to turn her head when Argos suddenly snatched the glass from her hand, splashing water onto the table.

Theora gaped. “Argos, what are you—?”

All around there was a chorus of buzzing as the Lasi guards activated their shock rods, and Argos had an urge to kill them all—he’d never seen such slow reaction time to a potential attack. Pyre’s maids had reacted more quickly, half of them rushing around their queen as if sacrificing their own bodies as shields.

Theora scrambled to her feet, holding out her hands to the guards. “He doesn’t mean any harm,” she told them. Then she turned to him, scowling as if he weren’t trying to save her life. “Argos, cease.”

The guards didn’t come closer, but they certainly weren’t standing down. But then, neither was Argos. He’d been shocked by those rods before. He’d felt worse.

Across the table, Pyre was alert and ready, as if for a fight. It didn’t matter that Pyre’s stingers couldn’t extend, there were plenty of weapons around if she wanted one. Her bare hands, for starters.

Now, that might be a fight Argo was interested in. But first things first.

“I told you,” growled Argos. “The proof is right here.”

“Queen Theora,” the judge warned. “What are these theatrics about?”

But Theora didn’t even have a chance to say anything before Argos placed his other palm on top of the glass’s rim and flipped it upside down, the rest of the water spilling out around his hand.

Theora backed away from the splash of water. “Argos!”

He tossed the glass away carelessly, to the outraged, terrified sounds of all in the room. It shattered on the floor as he picked up what was left over in his hand and showed it to Theora. A paper-thin, clear circle, no bigger than a small coin. He squeezed the sides of the circle, and when he released it, dozens of clear spines lined the perimeter.

Theora adjusted her glasses on her nose and leaned closer to look at it. But Argos didn’t need a closer look to recognize what it was.

A weapon of the most underhanded kind.

A ringblitz.

Chapter 21

Theora

Theora’s throat hurt, as if she were drinking it now instead of looking at it. She’d heard of the weapon before but had never seen it in action. It was an assassination tool—she only knew because a foreign duke had fallen victim to one a few years ago, his killer never caught because the ringblitz left no fingerprints. It was nearly undetectable in liquid, so the victim didn’t know it was there until the muscle contractions of the throat during swallowing activated the spines, tearing the throat open from the inside.

“Oh, Sovereign,” Venita gasped, and looked at Theora.

Pyre’s expression shifted from mild disturbance to anger. Before the judge could finish instructing the guards to check the remainder of the glasses, she went about it herself quickly, and Theora’s breath went from bated to stuck as she found nothing but water. “Yours?” Pyre said, looking at Venita, who wordlessly slid her glass to the other side of the table for Pyre to check. Again, nothing.

Just the one. In Theora’s glass.

Pyre leveled a glare at the judge. “With all due respect, Your Honor, this is what you call mediation? You must be joking.”

“The only joke,” Theora snapped, “is you pretending you didn’t just try to kill me.”

“Sit down, everyone,” the judge said. “Remain calm.”

“If Argos’s magic is unchecked, we’ll have a more dangerous situation to deal with than a ringblitz,” said Pyre, flexing and releasing her fists. “I’ll sit when Queen Theora tells her Warrior to cease.” It sounded like a warning. A threat.

Theora wasn’t a fan of threats.