Page 78 of Queen of War and Ruin

Malrik moves fast. He steps behind Laurance, then shoves the prince between the shoulder blades.

And Prince Laurance of Ethiria falls over the balcony of his palace without a sound. I wince at the wet, heavy crack that rises from the courtyard, followed by a fresh round of screaming from below. Malrik claps his hands together.

“Such a shame,” he announces, his eyes sparkling. “Poor Prince Laurance was so upset at the loss of his dear army. He couldn’t bring himself to live with defeat.”

Malrik looks at the three remaining palace guards as if he’s expecting an answer. They nod. Lilias whimpers. Like me, she’s backed up against the wall, with her hand over her mouth.

And so, the story is born, my mind whispers. Laurance’s death was a suicide. And anyone who disagrees will face the wrath of Malrik.

“You,” Malrik says, pointing at one of the Ethirian guards. “There must be a crown, yes? The crown of Ethiria?”

The guard nods like a puppet on a string.

“Find it,” Malrik demands. “I want you to hand it to me in the courtyard. When I declare victory.”

The guard turns, then vanishes into the palace. Varitan clears his throat, and Malrik turns to face him. The elf looks paler than usual, and he’s not standing quite as tall. He’s tired, some part of me notes. Doing this, it takes a toll.

“If that is all your majesty requires of me,” Varitan says in a low, even tone, as if he’d just prepared some thorny paperwork for the king’s approval.

“Ah, yes,” Malrik says, turning his maniacal smile to Varitan. “Excellent, Master Varitan. Quite excellent.”

“I do have one request,” Varitan continues in that same even tone.

“Anything, my dear Master Varitan,” King Malrik answers.

Varitan turns to me. His lips twitch into that cold smile.

“I want him.”

Chapter 41

Zarek

SO MUCH FOR THE SNAKE OF VSENROG

Lilias screams.

By the time I realize the sounds are coming from her, I’m already on my feet and kneeling at her side. Tears pour down her cheeks, cutting clear tracks through the dust on her face. Her eyes are wide, and she’s shaking her head.

“No,” she whispers. “No, Zarek. He can’t have you.”

“Shhhhh,” I reply. I cup her face in my palm, wiping her tears with my thumb. “It’s okay,” I lie. “It’s all okay.”

I wrap my arms around her shoulders as she sobs, and I try to ignore the sound of footsteps behind me.

“Interesting,” Varitan says from above me, like he’s observing an unusual insect.

He leans forward, reaching over my head. My body stiffens, ready to fight. His long, pale fingers brush the back of Lilias’s dress. And she slumps forward in my arms.

Rage explodes inside my body.

I leap to my feet, daggers in both my hands. Varitan moves faster than I would have expected; he’s dancing away from me, even as I dive forward. Grit and dust swirl in the air between us. Screams and sobs echo across the balcony.

The two remaining guards lunge forward. I evade the first one, but the second lands a blow on my back that slows me down. I cough, spin, search for Varitan. The first guard grabs for my arm and meets my blade instead. He hisses and backs away as blood swells across the back of his hand.

“Stop,” Malrik declares.

I freeze, my breath catching in my throat.