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My head rears back.
“Oh, ho!” Mattice Dulat crows loudly. “He knows you too well, Amarinata.”
Before Luka can react, I’m on my feet and reaching around him, my supper dagger leading the way. My target scrambles back in time to avoid the blade tip that comes at him, but I soak up the fear oozing from this weasel of a man. “I distinctly heard my husband tell you not to address me,” I grit out as Luka grabs my wrist to stop me from taking another swipe.
“Mmmm, that’s my woman,” Luka practically purrs.
“Don’t you mean your whore?” I snap.
“That was for his benefit,” he fires back, lifting his chin at Kharon behind me as he lets my wrist go. “It’s howhesees you, not me. And it’s clear to me now that we’ve both been played from the beginning. Our union was never meant to happen. Our success is their failure. Isn’t that right, Kharon?” Luka glares at him as I sink down into my seat.
“I’ve seen and heard enough,” Kharon says loudly, getting to his feet. “People of the Mountain Lion Realm.”
Is he addressing our people? Without asking Luka’s permission?Like most in the room, my gaze lands on Luka. He’s still sprawled casually in his chair, but a muscle ticks in his jaw as Kharon goes on.
“After hearing rumors of incompetence for months and having confirmed the slaying of many of your warriors, it’s become clear to me that your deve is not fit to rule.”
The room erupts in shock and outrage. Profanity-laden protests and insults are launched as warriors rise from their seats, Eldon and Noé among them, looking ready to do murder.
Luka holds up a hand and slowly everyone settles down. “By all means,” he mocks. “Let us hear what the First Deve ofallthe Realms has to say.”
I don’t think Kharon is quite as sure of himself anymore, but he doesn’t outwardly falter. “The D’heilarian whore has clearly bewitched him. How else would she convince him to marry her without my presence?”
Luka laughs.“Yousent her here.”
“A mistake. Now that Teo is dead and –”
“Teo?” Luka intones. “Teo was a fool living in the past.”
“Teo was a loyalist and I say this is your end, Lukaron Djothar.” The room explodes once again, but over the din, Kharon shouts, “Taxon, step forward.”
I fight back a niggling of panic as the big bodyguard does as he’s told.
“People of the Mountain Lion, I present you with the man who will be your next deve.”
Amid the utter clamor, Luka gets to his feet with chilling care, unhurried and deliberate. “What say you, Lions?” he yells in a burst of passion. “Am I headed for a downfall?”
The outpouring of support seems to rock the very walls of the hall and lifts goosebumps along my flesh.
“No, I don’t think so either, my fellow Lions.”
I turn to gloat at Kharon, but Luka goes on, his voice a booming echo.
“But no Northerner has ever ignored a challenge, no matter how under-handed, have they?!”
The people’s intensifying roar of approval fades to the recesses of my mind as Luka’s meaning hits me.
“So let this Taxon have his chance. He will not prevail!” His words are punctuated by the slamming of his dagger deep into the tabletop where it quivers in place when he lets it go.
Mother help me, but he means to fight that huge caveman?
“I suggest,” Luka scorns at the man in question, “that you prepare yourself, because tomorrow I toss you directly into the Abyss.”
Taxon opens his mouth, but he’s drowned out by everyone banging twice on the table in unison, then letting out a collective “raaaa!” They repeat it over and over, louder and louder, until he’s forced to leave the Great Hall, followed by Kharon, and the weasel, Dulat.
The experience of the chant is nothing I’ve ever felt before. Despite the very real possibility that Luka will die tomorrow, my heart bursts with pride and exhilaration. Now all I can do is pray that my newly-crafted life isn’t over before it’s barely begun.
♦♦♦
