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Knight of the God King

Page 77

by Lauren Blackwood

I felt an overwhelming rage, one I thought I’d long gained control of since my days of fighting any man who so much as looked at me wrong. From my days of having to deal with Vi.

“Fine,” I said.

And without hesitation, before he could so much as lift his sword, I stepped forward and punched him in the face. He went sprawling on the grass, putting distance between him and his fallen weapon. There was no sense in drawing my blade for this nonsense. I shouldn’t have even hit him. But watching him groan on the ground, blood smeared across his mouth and drops of crimson on the grass from his broken nose, I don’t think I could ever find someone who was more deserving of being taught a lesson the hard way.

Cali’s words rang in my head.

Don’t escalate.

“Well done,” said the king, clapping. Others joined in on the applause, most of their expressions shifting from discomfort to relief to smiles. I looked around, assessing them. They thought it was entertainment, perhaps. All the better. Now the man could be escorted away, and this wouldn’t have to become anything more than a momentary nuisance.

I nodded to the closest guard, who dragged the pathetic man to his feet. “Put him in a cell to sober up,” I said.

I felt Cali’s warm presence, the nervous pull of her fingers at the waist of my shirt. I wrapped my arm around her, rubbing her shoulder. I didn’t care that it wasn’t proper. “Are you all right?” I asked.

“Thank you for not drawing your sword,” she whispered.

I glanced at Anise, who at the very least had the good sense to look embarrassed as her fiancé thrashed against the guard dragging him away, shouting expletives in my direction. I should’ve knocked him unconscious.

“Are you going to let him continue to speak to you that way, Beric?” the king said, standing from his throne.

My stomach twisted. The king was showing far too much interest for my comfort.

“It’s drunken blather, sire,” I said. “Better to let him sleep it off.”

“We think not,” said the king, and my blood went cold even before he said, “Finish him.”

Everyone in the garden seemed to freeze, looking at the king. Looking at me. The guard still held the struggling man, and I wished he would have left faster, before the king had a chance to say a word.

The king shooed the guard away. “Leave him there. We’re not yet satisfied. Draw your sword, Lord Beric, and finish the duel.”

I saw Albert subtly guide Eliza and Faline toward the exit—he didn’t need to be instructed on the protocol for one of the king’s relentless moods. They would wait on the path while he came back for Cali. And then, God willing, I would get out of this without too much extra trauma to keep with me.

Sunny quickly led his band into another lively number—a risk on his part, but I appreciated the effort. More a slight distraction, really. A delay. He’d worked for the palace for longer than I had, knew that when the king wanted something, it was nearly impossible to dissuade him.

“No more music,” the king ordered. “Or we shall miss the sounds that make duels so very interesting.”

The entire garden fell deathly silent. Even nature, it seemed, didn’t want to interfere—or else my heart was just pounding too loudly in my head to hear it.

“Beric, speak to the king,” Cali said, planting her hand on top of mine as I touched the hilt of my sword. “Please. Surely there’s something we can do to divert his attention.”

I didn’t want to look at her. At her disappointment, at her desperation. My senses felt closed off, muted, as if submerged in water. I only vaguely heard the cloudy noise of Anise crying, begging, as I watched her being dragged away. Slowly, the guards were removing anyone who protested, though a few crept away on their own. Soon, the garden was only occupied by those too afraid to break the silence. Too afraid to tell the king he couldn’t have what he wanted.

My mind suddenly cleared as Cali gripped my hand harder. I heard her voice, beautiful and urgent, as she said, “You don’t have to do this. He can’t make you kill someone who hasn’t even committed a crime.”

“Don’t protest aloud,” I whispered. “He’ll hear you.”

“And what if he does—?”

“Cali,” I said sternly, taking her face in my hand. She stared at me, on the brink of tears, her eyes imploring me to act. And I would, but I couldn’t allow her to be here for the aftermath. “Go with Albert. Quietly. I beg you.”

“Get on with it,” the king demanded.

Albert rushed over, escorting Cali quickly out of the garden. She looked back at me, but didn’t protest, thank God. She would be safe, and that was all that mattered.

But heaven help me, I knew I’d been right to be worried about the king’s good mood.

I approached the king’s throne, and he leaned forward, forearms resting on his thighs.