As if she’s already won. As if there was never a battle to begin with.
But Ivy’s underestimated me.
Kane’s breath is ragged, his muscles trembling, straining to stay upright as the guards shove him down against the wet wooden plank and force his neck into the half-moon-shaped hole of the lunette.
I can’t let this happen. I can’t lose him again.
This won’t be another mistake.
The crowd’s uproar intensifies, and they surge forward. Bodies press against the wooden stage, and it shudders beneath me. I’m teetering on the edge of a precipice, the ground crumbling beneath my feet.
“I can prove it!” I shout to the guards, to the crowd, to whatever gods watch over this realm. “I can prove you’ve been lied to. Give me a chance to show you the truth.”
I’m scrambling. I know that, but I also know that I don’t have a choice.
There’s no more time to wait for Marion and McDougall and the plan we set in motion before I left the palace. There’s not even time for me to fully think about what I’m going to say before it leaves my mouth. I’ve gotten this far, and I have to keep going if I have any chance of saving Kane.
The crowd roars, and it’s impossible to tell if they want me to show them proof Kane isn’t the monster who’s cursed their kingdom or if they want my bloody, lopped-off head in the basket next to his.
“You want the truth?” I shout over the uproar.
The guard jerks me back. He hisses a warning in my ear, but his threat is swept up by the clamor of thecrowd. My gaze snaps to Ivy, knowing that one gesture from her could seal my fate, could send me to join Kane with my head on the block.
Ivy’s cold gaze meets mine as she lowers into her seat, crossing one long leg over the other. To her and Four, this is a spectacle, a game with predetermined rules that can only end one way, so I might as well give the crowd a show.
Thirty-Three
Rushing headfirst onto the stage was the first part of my strategy, but it was only a taste of the real plan. The blare of trumpets, regal and commanding, silences the crowd. All eyes swing to the back of the stage as Queen Lockhart strides forward, her long, elegant robes rain soaked and crimson as blood.
Gasps echo through the noble boxes, and once again, Four and Ivy are on their feet. Four opens his mouth to speak, but the queen holds up a hand, and he snaps his mouth shut.
“Lord Four, you made it seem like my son only required rest. That his injury was mild and his strain was more mental than physical.You lied. I have already lost a husband before his time, a husband who was a strong and decent king. I will not stand by and let my son fall too.”
A murmur ripples through the crowd as Marion and McDougall emerge from the shadows. They shuffleforward, grunting and flushed as they carry Alderic’s stretcher onto the stage.
The king is a trembling ghost of his former self, his face ashen, his lips cracked and dry. The gaping dagger wound in his stomach has festered, the skin around it black and green and oozing. The stench fills the air, a sickly-sweet odor that makes my stomach churn. His eyes flutter open briefly, no longer blue and vibrant, but the glassy, vacant stare of someone looking into death.
The crowd’s murmurs grow louder, morphing into breathy and shrill cries of disbelief.
I dig my teeth into my bottom lip to calm my roiling stomach and glance at Kane. Every muscle is tight, his gaze fixed on the rotted wound.
“Unchain the warrior,” the queen demands, her eyes locked onto the guards. “Now.”
The guards hesitate for a moment, their eyes darting to Four’s place within the noble boxes. But his seat is empty, and Queen Lockhart’s authority is absolute.
Slowly, one of the guards steps forward, his metal gauntlet clinking against the key ring. The cold iron groans as the guard inserts the key and the lock releases. The chains fall away, crashing against the stage in a clatter that echoes off the stone walls. Kane rubs his wrists, the skin red from the metal’s bite.
Queen Lockhart steps closer, her presence commanding even in her grief. “If there is any chance, any possibility, that magick can save my son, I will take it. I will not lose him as I lost my husband.” Her voice cracks on the last word, and my heart aches for her, for the kingdom that teeters on the edge of despair.
“You wish me to use magick?” Kane asks, his dark eyes narrowed. “You acknowledge it can be done?”
I hold my breath along with the rest of the crowd, watching in hushed anticipation, their earlier anger and cries for blood forgotten.
“I acknowledge there are many things within this realm I do not understand.”
Kane nods and moves toward Alderic’s writhing form when a commotion erupts in the crowd.
Heads turn as murmurs rise to shouts, and the sea of people parts. Four barrels through, his jaw set, his eyes narrowed. Ivy trails him, managing to look like a glistening mermaid in the torrential rainfall.
