Queen Lockhart lifts her teacup, her thin pale fingers wrapped elegantly around the handle. She takes a noiseless sip and briefly closes her eyes as if savoring the moment. Only when her cup is back in its saucer, the gentleclinkechoing in the silent room, do the other nobles resume their movements and quiet conversations.
I steal a glance at the queen. Her deep-crimson dresspools around her pale form like blood around a corpse. Her weary blue eyes meet mine, and I offer a small respectful nod.
“Lady Ashwood.” She calls on me, cutting through the hushed chatter, and I feel like I’ve walked into the office without pants. “It has been quite some time since our kingdom has welcomed any visitors. Tell me, what do you think of Pentacles?”
A lump forms in my throat. My thoughts drift to the crumbling fountain, rickety shelters, and starving children in the heart of the city and the men with bright blue eyes who were used as pawns by the snake in their very own garden.
I don’t want to lie, but I also don’t want to tell the truth.
Spin it, Hannah.
I take a deep breath and summon the skills I’ve spent my entire adult life honing.
“Your Majesty,” I begin, my voice steadying as I find my footing, “Pentacles is undeniably beautiful, and the people I’ve met have been nothing short of welcoming.”
I pause, glancing around the room at the assembled nobles. My gaze lands on Ivy, who’s waiting, judging. “The kingdom has immense potential. The history is rich. The culture is vibrant. But every place, even one as great as Pentacles, has areas that need attention to truly shine.”
“You speak like someone well-versed in the art of persuasion, Lady Ashwood.” Queen Lockhart’s eyes narrow, and she tilts her head from one side to the other as if weighing my words. “Tell us, what areas within the kingdom would you polish to make shine?”
Behind me, Kane grips the loveseat, the wood creaking.
“Well, I don’t really mean that—”
A shriek pierces the air, shattering the fragile calm.
Gasps ripple through the room as the queen surges to her feet, her pale eyes wide. She whips around and strides to the window, her gown sweeping behind her.
Kane is next, surging forward without a word. I chase after him, fear gripping my chest. One by one, everyone in the room crowds to the windows that line the grand chamber.
Outside, the townspeople surge against the gates. Their voices rise in a roar of shouts and cries that crash against the palace’s cold, unyielding stone. Armor-clad guards struggle to hold the line blocking the main gate, their spears raised in a futile attempt to maintain order.
My breath is quick and shallow as I fill the space between the queen and Kane. Fingers gripping the windowsill, I scan the throng below. My eyes lock onto Lila, the young girl from my trip to the center of town, the mirror version of my boss’s granddaughter. Her brother breaks away from her and chases after a startled chicken, completely unaware of the chaos around him. Lila leaps forward after him, but the crowd cuts her off.
The little boy continues his chase, racing straight toward the line of guards. He trips and lands at the feet of a guard, the chicken squeezing through the gate’s iron posts to safety.
With a shout, the guard lifts his spear. Lila breaks through the crowd and rushes forward, panic flashing across her face as she shields her brother from theapproaching guard. His face turns red as his yelling intensifies, his words lost in the roar of the mob.
A man breaks away from the mass of people, pushing the guard back and placing himself between the children and the threat. The guard levels his spear, the pointed tip glinting in the sunlight. Their rescuer continues to shout, shielding Lila as she grabs hold of her brother and stumbles back into the crowd.
My breath stills as the guard’s expression hardens. In one swift brutal motion, he plunges the spear into the protester’s side.
The man’s scream of pain is cut short as blood pours from his mouth and down his side. The scarlet stain spreads across his shirt, running in thick dark lines down his dirt-streaked skin. Eyes wide, he grasps at the spear embedded in his flesh, his weak hands trying to pull it free.
With a merciless yank, the guard tears the spear loose. The man crumples to the ground, his body twitching in a final desperate struggle to hold on. Blood pools beneath him, soaking the earth as life drains from his body.
The crowd surges forward in a stampede of outrage. The guards tighten their formation in silent warning that any further disobedience will be met with the same fate.
Without thinking, I reach for Kane’s hand, for reassurance and strength. His gaze is fixed on the scene outside. His grip is steely and tense beneath mine, but he doesn’t pull away.
The room around me buzzes with hushed conversations. The nobles whisper among themselves, their faces drawn, their eyes bright with worry. The kingdom is on the edge of collapse, and they will do nothing but gawkfrom their ivory tower.
The queen mother straightens, her serene mask slipping to reveal a flicker of unease. Her lips press into a thin line as she turns from the window, her eyes briefly meeting mine before she looks away.
“My son is resting from the minor injury he sustained, but we must call for him and for more guards,” Queen Lockhart snaps at McDougall. “The kingdom needs its king. Alderic must address this unrest immediately. Pentacles cannot afford to descend into chaos.”
“Maybe aggression isn’t the answer,” I blurt. Kane’s hand tightens around mine, and I shake loose of his grip. “Your Majesty, the people are starving. I’ve seen it firsthand. If you were to—”
Ivy interrupts, her brow pinched, voice dripping with disdain. “Who are you to say such things to our queen? You’re not even from this kingdom.”
