“You obey us,” he reminds me with a snarl. “You cannot turn on us, you useless piece of shit.”
Another blow, his fist cracking hard across my cheekbone, and I just take it.
“You had one task.” His knuckles slam into the side of my head where I’m hunched down, barely shielding myself. “You had one measly task. Kill the Leth guardian. That was all. How damn hard is it to put a dagger in her chest?” Another punch. This one catches the side of my throat, and I wheeze involuntarily. “Worthless—goddamn disgrace—”
Each word is matched with a punch, and I’m curled fully in on myself, but I don’t fight back. I’ve got nothing left. No reaction, no feelings, no thoughts.
Monsters don’t have those things, do they? They don’t deserve them.
I’m shutting down. Breath by breath, heartbeat by heartbeat, my whole body’s failing, and I ache all over, but the internal is far worse than whatever Darnley’s taking out on my external.
When his rage is sated, he sinks back against the carriage seat, breathing hard. “Once the dust settles, you will correct this error. You’ll kill the queen’s lapdog.”
“No.” It warbles out of me. Blooms and bursts from somewhere within the rubble.
My whole mouth is nothing but the sour tang of blood now, one eye swelling, jaw and chin aching and raw.
Darnley kicks me in the side, and I cry out. Blood fills my mouth, and I spit it on the floor of this pristine carriage, coming down on my hands and waiting there like his own lapdog.
“You will kill her,” Darnley repeats. Something sloshes; he’s drinking, of course. “You serve us. You are ours. This isn’t over. This isn’t over until that bitch is dead.”
“No,” I say again. It’s barely a sound, just a movement of my lips.
But my refusal doesn’t matter, does it? I’d refused before Darnley’s spell took hold of me, and I still went after her on his orders.
I huddle there, aching inside and out, my only solace in knowing Alyth’s bound to her word. I’ve proven myself a danger now.
Next time she faces me, she’ll stop me.
But that relief is so short-lived, it doesn’t register. Because she’ll be alone again, won’t she? I offered her help, and that help vanished just as quick as my relief. Those moments we had, her actually smiling, some of that weight lifting from her shoulders—it’s all gone now.
I sway with the rock of the wagon, the stench of blood and Darnley’swine tart in the darkness. The windows are open, and a breeze gusts in, briefly countering the smells with the tang of winter cold, the earthy musk of packed dirt, the crispness of dried leaves.
I see us on the moors, camping when we first met.
I see us at Mary’s ball, dancing under the glittering magic lights.
I see us in the goblin market, my lips on hers.
It should be that easy. It should be thatright.
She deserves that.
I’m sorry.I don’t even mouth the words, not wanting Darnley to think they’re at all for him. I just force them out in my head, will them to somehow permeate the ether to her.
I’m so sorry, Alyth.
31
Alyth
Despite the attack causing a commotion, the party still goes on. Enough people assume it was a drunken assault that they merrily continue dancing and playing dice and guzzling wine. But after Mary ensures her baby is safe in his nursery, with guards stationed around him, she calls a handful of trusted lairds to meet with her immediately in the chapel: Bothwell, Argyll, her half brother Moray, as well as Cockburn and Strathglass, there at my request.
And me, of course.
I raise my eyebrow at the queen when Bothwell walks in beside her, not behind. She shakes her head subtly. Moray knows of the fae through Mary; Argyll’s wife is a Leth, and so are Cockburn and Strathglass. They understand the stakes and what else is at play. But Bothwell…
Feck, she wants to climb into bed with him. A flick of my eyes confirms my suspicions: Mary has told Bothwell everything. He’s still loyal though. And still looking for his own gain in all this.
