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Watching him all afternoon, she’d almost forgotten the countdown on the blood vows and the goblin glass’s reopening that had been tick-tick-ticking in her brain since they’d traveled through it.Her whole life had been knocked topsy-turvy in the past day.
“The royal jewelers are excited to create a new crown for you,” Jura said quietly.“They have requested a chance to measure and study the original amethysts for the design.Would you prefer to do it here or at the workshop?It should only take a few minutes.”
Vori signaled for guards.“I’ll send the cuff with you.Don’t let it out of your sight, and remain under protection at all times.”
“We can wait for you if you prefer.”
“No time.I’m busy running a realm.”To the first guard who approached, she said, “Keep Jura and my jewels under your protection.”
“Yes, Princess, but the king killer is locked away, and no one would dare steal from a royal.”The guard stopped midboast as if finally realizing the mistakes made.“Majesty.My queen.Please.I meant no disrespect—”
Vori interrupted her.“No need to apologize.The transition from princess to queen will take time for everyone to get used to.”Most of all for her.She slipped the cuff from her wrist, but for a moment, she couldn’t let go.That need, the desire to grab the amethysts and hide them away terrified her.Maybe the crown’s legends were true.Maybe the glittering stones were an addictive pretty poison.She pushed the cuff at Jura before she could change her mind.“Take these.I’m still four short.”
Hours later, touring the decimated farms outside the castle, she missed the heavy weight of the gold on her wrist.At least she would’ve had something to fiddle with as the demands grew louder and the devastation of the lands more obvious.Her shoulder ached, and she resisted the need to massage it, to show weakness.
They’d wrapped the business of the day, and still, the courtiers complained.She’d stayed in her human skin, not bothering to flaunt her crown.She had bigger concerns, like keeping her shit together and not demanding everyone go away.
“Which is worse?Paparazzi or pushy subjects?”Perry asked, his voice low.
“It’s a tough call.They all want something.”
“Petra’s blood.”
“But how would the realm suffer with another royal dead?”
He pulled her away from the crowd, toward the edge of the woods.“I’m more worried about how you would suffer if you ordered her death, the impact it would have on you.”
Leave it to Perry to tackle the tough subjects.“I don’t know.”
“She might be your last promise to Baba Yaga.”
“Kill the beast?”A shudder went through her.What if Petra was the final blood vow?Or worse, what if she wasn’t?
