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“So it is true?” she asks. “All of them are dead?”
He nods as I construct three more glass spears. They’re all pointing at him. If he uses his magic to multiply himself, I want to build enough weapons to kill every version. Probably why he’s chosen to remain in one piece.
“I’m afraid so.”
“Who did it?” she asks.
“I did.”
Stunned, I stare. He’s just admitted to killing his brother and his nephew.
“But why?” she asks.
“To save the court, of course. My brother’s weakness for his degenerate son allowed me to exercise sibling rights. You might be too young to know what those are, but I can teach you.”
He just proposed to her. Bold motherfucker, I’ll give him that.
The queen looks away. She shouldn’t look away. She must learn to hold his gaze.
“You seem tired, dear,” he says. “Won’t you come and rest?” He steps onto the dais.
My glass spear flies through his thigh. It buckles his leg, and the male drops to one knee. He screams in agony as her magic burns through the glass while the soldiers shout, frantic to reach their weapons.
My guards close in until we have them surrounded in a circle and the throne room is securely closed off.
I approach the male and stand before him. “The Summer king and the Unseelie king have acknowledged the Spring queen. This means that she is the ruling party in this court. Out of respect for the royal bloodlines, you will remain at court at the queen’s discretion. She will determine your punishment.”
“The royal council won’t accept her,” he grits out, biting back the pain.
The council supports him already. Damn it. He planned, prepared, and, judging from the sound of it, he strategized about what to do in the event of her survival. Or he might’ve spared her life so that he could marry her.
20
CHLOE
Following our claiming of the throne and the late king’s brother’s departure, the commander followed me into the royal wing, where he dismissed the Spring Court’s guards and sent them off with a message for their captain. It said he should stay with his king. Left unsaid was the fact he was telling them to stay away from me.
As the commander and I walk past the guard stations and toward the cross section that leads to different royal chambers, I head for my old room while the commander walks the other way. Naturally, I turn and start to jog, trying to catch up with him.
He side-eyes me. “The queen doesn’t run.”
“It’s good for my health.”
“Then designate a different time for exercise.” He pauses at a massive cherrywood door. “You will stay in the queen’s chambers.”
The door handle twists and the door opens into a lush, beautiful room with green-and-purple velvet furniture dominating the space.
“The queen’s chambers.” D’Artaron motions with his hand for me to enter.
I remain in place. “If it were up to me, I would stay in the village, but if I’m going to stay in this place, I want to sleep where I’m most comfortable. Which is my old room.”
“The queen’s chambers aren’t uncomfortable.”
“They are to me.”
“The Spring queen stays in the queen’s chambers.”
“But I’m not a qu?—”
