Page 74 of Queen of War and Ruin

But the king of Vsenrog doesn’t know shit about Lilias.

I drag my trembling hand through my hair and try to suck breath into the tight knot of my chest. It worked. That was the only way to convince Malrik that Lilias is no longer connected to me, that punishing her isn’t a way to torture me. And it worked beautifully.

So why does my heart still feel broken?

“Ah, hells,” Malrik says cheerfully. “What a way for the snake of Vsenrog to go.” He shakes his head, still grinning. “I was going to let the kingdom think you died in the mountains, trying to catch your wayward bride,” Malrik explains. “But now, here you are. And someone has to pay for Syvan’s death.”

I feel cold. Malrik shrugs.

“Of course, we still need to negotiate with Ethiria,” Malrik says. “You’re technically their prisoners at the moment.” He turns to the guards. “Bring them,” he says, waving a hand at Lilias and me. “I want everyone to see this.”

And the king of Vsenrog turns toward the door with a smile that makes every warning bell in my mind start screaming.

Chapter 39

Lilias

WHAT WE PROMISED YOU

Don’t look at Zarek, damn it.

King Malrik thinks I want to be married to Blayne, that I lied to Zarek in order to divorce him. And, gods, it’s a brilliant gambit. Now Zarek is no longer tied to the ruined kingdom of Marion; he can’t be held responsible for Elrick’s attempt to create an alliance with Ethiria.

But the pain in his eyes when he asked me if it was true⁠—

We reach the top of the stairs, and I can’t stop myself. I glance back over my shoulder. Zarek stares at the polished stone steps beneath his feet like he’s in shock. I turn back to the guard, my heart aching in my chest.

It’s all an act, I want to scream. I don’t want to marry Blayne. I never wanted to marry Blayne.

And Zarek knows that, right? He has to know that. Hells, he asked me in that dingy basement pub with the terrible ale after he discovered Blayne in our room with me.

Do you love him? That was his first question after he found his wife betraying him in his private chambers. Not what in the hells were you thinking? Not how quickly can I send you back to your father?

No. He wanted to know if I loved someone else.

Because he loves me.

My breath catches, and my vision blurs. The guard pushes open a door. A gust of wind presses my skirts against my legs. The air swirling around us smells of smoke. Malrik walks through the door first. I twist again, trying to catch Zarek’s eye, but he ignores me. Panic scratches at the inside of my chest like an animal in a trap. The king’s words whisper through my mind as I step through the door and onto the cold, windswept balcony.

Someone has to pay for Syvan’s death.

I shiver as guards fan out behind us. One of them grabs my arm and tugs me to the side. King Malrik stands at the balcony railing like he’s presiding over the hundreds of soldiers spread out in the field before him. Like this is his castle, and it’s always been his castle. Smoke rises in thin tendrils before him, stretching toward the brilliant blue sky.

Murmuring rises behind me, and the guards bow toward the door. Prince Laurance steps onto the balcony. His expression curdles when he sees me, and for a moment I think he’s going to stop and say something. Or maybe just hit me.

But then he turns to face Malrik with a sort of swagger that seems entirely out of place for a prince of a palace entirely surrounded by enemy soldiers. Laurance puts his hands on his hips and clears his throat.

The guards turn away before he can speak. Even Malrik nods his head, a slight gesture that’s not quite a bow. I follow his gaze.

And that must be the king of Ethiria standing in the doorway.

He’s an older man, tall but frail, and he leans heavily on the arm of the guard beside him as he steps through the door. The wind pulls at his beard and heavy robe. His eyes are fierce as he walks across the balcony to stand beside Malrik, but the effect is ruined somewhat by a coughing fit that racks his thin frame. He presses a cloth to his mouth as his barking cough echoes through the chill morning. The cloth comes away flecked with blood.

When it’s over, the king of Ethiria bows to Malrik. My heart sinks. Are the negotiations already over? Have we already been traded away?

“As you can see,” the king begins, waving his hand at Zarek and me, “we have what we promised you.”

Shit. Malrik smiles like the fox who sings to the mice.