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“Is that him?” Andreas speaks over my shoulder, clearly having noticed my actions.
“Youknow about him?” my old friend barks questioningly.
“Yeah.”
Watching everything unfold, ignoring the ghost of my past, I can’t find more words to speak. This should have been a moment of triumph. I was meant to come back, arise from the ashes, and everyone would bow at my feet, but it seems the new heir has been coronated and we don’t even share a bloodline.
As if in slow motion, his eyes catch mine. My breathing slows into a faltering pulse, my heart ceasing its one ability, but as I start to unravel, the gaze quickly passes. Unseen and unwanted, I exhale and recognise that in the wake of my father’s death a bigger game was playing out.
“We need to leave.”
The words are pushed out in one quick breath, and I’m turning on my heels, fully prepared to walk back through the onlookers who had taken in my entrance with such disbelief.
“Tally, what the hell?” Andreas asks, unable to keep up.
“We need to leave.”
“I did warn you,” my old friend calls out, but he doesn’t move.
“Fuck you.”
“What the fuck was that?” Andreas asks, his voice twisting with confusion. “You’ve got to talk to me, Talia.”
I don’t.
I’m too angry to form words. Every jagged edge is threatening to cut every vein and artery, forcing me to bleed out on the marble floor beneath my feet, finally bleeding me dry.
I may not utter a single word, but that’s only because Andreas wouldn’t like what I have to say. The red mist that’s descending only wants one victim, regardless of the collateral damage, and Andreas would fall prey right at the starting line.
Breaking free of hell, I only know two things to be true:
Beckett Knight just made himself public enemy number one.
Queen takes King.
