“I’m not gonna kill your wife for you.”
Darnley freezes. His own muscles lock up. “Excuse me?”
“I’m not. Killing. Your wife.” I say each beat behind my teeth.
Guess pretending to supplicate to him is done.
“I’m not gonna do anything for you,” I tell him. “I’m done being used, by you or Cecil. I’m not your bloody weapon.”
The look in Darnley’s eyes is cold and detached, the most I’ve seen him be manipulative and not infantile. “You would refuse us? You were supposed to die, you realize. After you crossed the border, we arranged to kill you, as you were useful only in testing the crossing. But you proved yourself, and we decided to keep you. So that is your glorious purpose now: you are still alive to serve us.”
The attack on that village at the border. The birds, not-birds, whatever they were. It was meant to kill me?
I turn for the door. “I’m done with you—”
Something shatters against the wood before I can open it. A vase or a wine bottle.
I look over my shoulder in time to see another object flying my way—this one definitely a wine bottle. I duck, but it clips my temple, and when I drop to my knees, it isn’t just pain that lances through me.
It’s fury.
He’s actually attacking me.
This foolish arsehole who’s allied with my father.
This drunk moron who’s been fumbling an assassination because he’s too insecure to rule beneath his wife.
He’s attacking me.
I straighten. Slowly.
Everything in my body is calming. There’s only a sizzle, a single flame in the center of my stomach.
I won’t slip into a rage because of this man. He isn’t worth it.
“It’s over, Darnley,” I say, level, flat.
He’s panting, holding a small box, delirium in his eyes, frantic hunger. “Yes. It is.”
He releases the box. It spins through the air, but I see it coming and step aside—
Only for another object, one I didn’t see, to smash into the side of my head.
More pain.
Moreanger.
No.No.
I grit my teeth, muscles spasming with the strain, hands in fists. No. Darnley won’t get to me this easy.
“You will obey us,” Darnley snarls, holding more items, poised to throw. “It is all you are good for. You think your father would find another use for you? A Red Cap who refuses to kill. You are nothing. Bet you did get in with that Leth bitch, didn’t you? She spread her legs, and you fell for that—”
Black spots swim along the edges of my vision, hinting at an abyss, just beyond the horizon.
The next thing I know, I’ve got Darnley pressed up against the wall by the fireplace, my hands in his doublet, my face contorted in a snarl.
Darnley titters a frantic laugh. “Ah, there you are. That Leth girl really did do a number on you, didn’t she?”
