Page 18 of Given to the Black King

Something changes at the end of the table. The king’s claws slide out.

Slowly.

Five dark points press against the oak, the thumb claw held apart from the four fingers.

Osk sees them.

He does not back down.

“Coward,” he says.

No one breathes.

The king rises.

He moves before Osk can pull the axe free. One hand closes around Osk’s wrist. The other catches his elbow.

A crack splits the room.

Osk screams.

The axe falls. The king kicks it away and twists once more. Osk hits the floor with his arm bent wrong beneath him.

The king plants a boot on his throat.

“Yield.”

Osk claws at the leather.

The king presses down.

“Yield.”

“I yield.” The words barely come out.

The boot lifts.

Guards seize Osk and drag him toward the doors. He spits blood across the floor. “You’ll regret choosing her over your own.”

The king turns.

For one terrible second, I think he will kill him. Ghenn steps between them, not blocking him, only reminding him that other choices exist.

“Cells?” Ghenn asks.

“No.” The king’s eyes stay on Osk. “His rooms. Guards at the door. At sunset he rides north.”

Osk laughs through his pain. “You’re sending me home?”

“I’m giving you time to remember your oath.”

The guards take him away.

The doors close.

Nobody moves.

The king stands beside the fallen axe, breathing hard. His claws are still out. Blood runs over one knuckle where Osk’s buckle caught him.