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I couldn’t bring her back.
Numb shock tore through my torso. I tried to breathe and reason through the fact that she was gone.
A series of scenes from her short life passed through my memories.
Sable always dogging my heels, asking the most direct and ridiculous questions, arguing with me about nearly everything, coming to me at night when she was scared. Sable, who’d trusted me to save her.
And I’d betrayed her too.
“No…”
I hadn’t kept my word.
Behind me, maniacal laughter rose from the other end of the hall, coming from the queen. Horrified that anyone could laugh over the death of my sister, especially that woman, I rotated my glare toward the dais across the room, where the king was straining up in his seat trying to see what was happening between me and Sable. Next to him, Kalendria clutched her child as she roared louder with amusement.
“Was he trying to kiss her?” she asked incredulously. “What does the moron think that’ll do? Bring the little bitch back from the dead or something?”
“Will you shut your gaping pie hole?” the king snapped with an irritated glare before he turned curiously back toward me. “Well?” he asked. “Is she dead yet?”
My eyes narrowed and my lips peeled back to reveal clenched teeth. I’d already decided I was done with this man. But I’d never thought I was actually capable of murdering him until this very moment.
“You just killed the wrong girl,” I snarled as I gently set Sable’s body on the stone, cold floor and began to rise.
“Huh?” The king made a confused face and set a hand to his ear. “What did he say?”
Next to him, Greggor folded his arms over his chest in a lazy manner. “You know, Tor. I do believe he looks mad enough to actually assassinate you right now.”
And I’d make it hurt too.
Reaching down to slowly pull free the sword I’d just plunged into Sable’s henchman, I glowered across the great hall at my king. “You’re next,” I promised him, pointing my blade at him.
Eyes flaring with shock at my deadly expression, the king sank backward, deeper into the sanctuary of his throne. Then he made a swishing motion with his hand, speaking to someone behind me.
“Well, what’re you waiting for? Kill him already! Don’t let the slimy bastard get near me.”
At the order, I heard movement behind me, a knight swinging his sword to follow the king’s decree.
Ducking, I spun and slashed out my own steel as hard as I could, catching my attacker diagonally across the front.
He cried out, a line of blood soaking his tunic, and he stumbled backward away from me, which gave me the time I needed to surge forward and drive my blade deep into his heart.
Pulling him close, I hissed, “Oops. You missed.”
Once he was gone, I shoved him away and pulled the sword free so I could face the next three soldiers who rushed in.
From that point on, pure unadulterated rage filled my veins. I knew I was as good as dead. There was no way I could take on a room full of the king’s finest knights. But by God, I was ready to take down as many of them as I could before they took me.
Fury was a worthy companion I soon learned. It completely flattened all fetters of fear and doubt. There was no second-guessing or backing off. I met every attack, full force, only caring to deliver my vengeance. Nothing else mattered. Not living. Not dying. I just wanted to make the world bleed for what it had just done to Sable.
My focus zeroed in on the battle, who I needed to face off with next and how fast I could get them out of my way. When I spotted Roloff fleeing the room and escaping, I snarled, wanting to hurt him and make him pay for his betrayal, too, but my father’s shouting in the background, ordering more men to k
ill me stole my attention. I stalked in his direction, steadily taking down anyone who got in my path along the way. Sometimes a blade caught me in the arm or leg, but I didn’t feel pain.
I had become wrath.
I was just about to the throne, when Greggor jumped in front of me, not even a weapon in his hand, ready to lay down his life to protect his best friend.
As he wished.
