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I let the guards lead me the rest of the way toward the royalty-only section of the palace, feeling numb.
I’m eventually left in a round room more elegantly decorated than any I’ve seen in the palace--which is saying something. Two of the guards retreat, but the older guard with gray at his temples lingers for a moment to whisper in my ear. “My name is Kato,” he says. “I’m loyal to Prince Roark. I’ll do what I can to make sure he knows where you are, and then I’ll do anything in my power after that to get you freed. Don’t be reckless, Princess. Help is coming.”
Before I can respond, he’s gone and the door is closed.
I’m alone in the circular room. Even though I know it’s useless, I try the door the guards left through but find it locked tightly. I’m about to try one of the other two doors in the circular room when one opens, revealing Queen Korinthia, who wears a black gown with fabric at her shoulders that makes her look like she has the wings of a raven. I flinch back when I see her eyes. Predatory eyes lined thickly with mascara.
“Sit,” she commands, gesturing to a small couch at my side.
I shake my head, trying not to shiver visibly. “I’ll stand,” I say.
Her calm face contorts in rage. She chops her hand through the air and shouts so loudly that her voice booms through my chest. “Sit!”
I flop down onto the couch, back rigid and eyes wide.
“You’ve been a terrible disappointment, Elizabeth,” she says, moving to a small bar at the edge of the room and pouring herself red wine in a crystal goblet. “We invested so much in you. So much time, money, and planning. All you had to do was smile, look pretty, and spread your legs when the time came. And you did all that, didn’t you? But you spread your legs for the wrong fucking prince,” she snaps, slamming the glass down and shattering it on the floor.
I flinch, squeezing my eyes shut.
“It’s no matter,” she says, suddenly calm again. She moves to the bar and pours herself another drink like she didn’t just smash her previous glass on the ground. “We’re going to fix this mess you’ve created. Perhaps we should thank you. Without you, we would’ve had to hope our assasination of Roark never reached the public. Now we can behead him in the city square if we like, and how the crowds will cheer.” She smiles cruelly, looking out a window and cradling her wine as she imagines it. “And once you’ve borne Titus a son, you can join your lover in the afterlife.”
“I’m never going to help you,” I say, voice trembling with anger and disgust. “I’ll kill myself before I do.”
She gives me an unimpressed purse of her lips. “We don’t need your help. We just need a crown on your head and we need your womb. Thankfully, we can have a small wedding and well, the rest won’t be pleasant without your cooperation, but you only have yourself to blame for that.”
“Roark is going to stop you,” I say. “He’s never going to let this happen.”
“Roark is a capable man, yes. He will try to stop us. But that’s precisely why he will fail. We have the court of public opinion on our side, numbers on our side, and we also know his only possible move is to come after you. He has no choice but to march directly into our trap. And let me tell you a little secret, princess,” she says, leaning close enough that I can smell the wine on her breath and the stench just beneath. “Capable men die just like cowards and fools. My husband was a very capable man,” she adds with a slight quirk of her brow.
“You killed him, didn’t you?”
“Of course I killed him. My husband thought I was just a pretty bauble to set on his shelf. Something for his subjects to look at and feel envy. You know what he did when I told him I wanted to play a more important role in ruling the kingdom? He laughed.” She sips her wine, shaking her head. “He wasn’t laughing when I smothered his drunken ass with a pillow, though. The men of this world have always underestimated us.”
“And making me breed a child against my will doesn’t offend your feminist agenda?” I ask.
She sniffs. “I’m not a feminist. I want power to belong to those who deserve it. Roark thinks he deserves the crown because he was born to it. He thinks because he’s powerful and clever it should be his. He lacks the conviction to take it. Real power isn’t given. It’s taken. He never learned that.”
“You surprised your husband,” I say quietly. “I think your son is going to surprise you.”
