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“It was him,” she declares, cutting me off as if she can’t bear to hear his name. “Where –” She exhales sharply when I jostle her at the second landing. “Where are we going? I am barely covered.”
“Don’t worry, their attention will all be on me.”
That statement turns out to be only partially true. The hum of voices in the Great Hall is loud as we enter, but it drops off into a dead silence by the time I carry Rina the twenty feet to the dais.
Mounting the steps, I carefully set her on her feet, waiting until she’s steady to let her go. Her eyes are wide and I don’t know what comes over me, but I reassure her with a wink. “Stay here for a moment.”
Making my way along behind the head table and chairs, I feel anticipation come over me. I’m going to enjoy the fuck out of this. I plant my boot in the middle of the long table and shove it with all my might. It makes a gratifying amount of noise as it crashes to the floor below. Those closest scatter to avoid injury.
“No oneleaves until I’m done here,” I proclaim loudly and a few of my warriors get to their feet to block the exits. The atmosphere in the room turns wary as I proceed to make a show of kicking the chairs off the dais as well. One by one, they take flight and clatter to the floor. From my periphery, I watch Noé and Eldon rise from their table and saunter forward, their excitement at the mayhem that’s to come surely matching my own. When only one chair remains – mine, the more ornate one – I position it to my liking in the center of the stage. Turning to Rina, I snap my fingers and point to it.
Defiance flickers in her eyes. She doesn’t appreciate being ordered around, but lucky for her, it doesn’t stop her from limping across the platform and taking the seat I’ve offered her. Gasps break out in the crowd. Though I can’t say if they’re in response to her shocking appearance or my offer of the traditional seat of our leaders to an outsider.
“My deve,” Eldon drawls, loving every second of this spectacle. “May I –”
“Shut up,” I growl, not in the mood for his jokes. Jumping down, my boots hit the floor with a muffled whomp. In the Great Hall, there are three long tables that stretch like fingers toward the main doors. I choose the one on the left, using the bench to step up onto the tabletop. A ripple of alarm sounds as people grab their food and lean back as I start to walk. “It seems,” I roar, “that some in this realm think my rules do not apply to them.” I kick a bowl of morning porridge down the table, causing a few short screeches. Surveying my audience, I soak up their astonishment. I’ve never done something like this before. “Some of you seem to believe that I am deve in name only.” I begin walking again, the table groaning under my bulk. “But we all know that’s not how it works.”
I hold out my arms so they can get a good look at me. “Have I somehow missed the challenge to my leadership?” The sarcasm in my tone brings out a few nervous titters as I finally stop and stare down at my prey. “Have I, Cayson?”
Keeping his head down, he pushes to his feet and steps back over the communal bench. When he lifts his chin, I laugh loudly in disbelief. “Shit, did she do that?” Undoubtedly, his nose is broken and he’s well on his way to having two black eyes.
He points to the stage. “That whore –”
That’s all he gets out before I lunge, my fist landing on his face in a hammer blow. He staggers back and people rush to get off of the benches to avoid being caught up in the melee. I don’t let him recover and I don’t hold back. With the crowd becoming more and more raucous in the background, I show him exactly why I’m in charge. With blow after blow, I dole out a beating he’ll never forget. He barely gets any shots in at all before he goes down. He gets back up. Twice. He is a Range warrior after all.
When he shows no signs of being able to rise, I heave in a breath and rake my bloody fingers through my hair that’s come loose from its queue.
“Iam deve here,” I roar. “No one else.” I meet the bright eyes of those around me, then, to the entire crowd, I shout, “Do you understand?”
Laughing assent rings out. They’ve enjoyed the show. But that’s not good enough.
“I can’t hear you!”
“Yes, Deve,” echoes back to me, clear and strong.
Satisfied, I reach down and hook my hand into the neck of Cayson’s leather warrior’s vest and haul him toward the dais. People scurry out of my way, clearing a path. A glance ahead shows me Eldon sitting on the arm of Rina’s chair, chatting with her like nothing out of the ordinary is going on. Though it doesn’t quite penetrate the haze of my savagery, I’m grateful to him.
Heaving Cayson up onto the dais further knocks the wind from his lungs and he wheezes pathetically. When he’s laid out in front of Rina like tribute, I leap onto the nearest table. “Hear me now,” I shout. “The D’heilar princess is mine. Mine to wed. Mine to discard.” I raise my voice to a bellow, “Mine to punish however I see fit. No. One. Else’s.”
A collective gasp sounds as I draw my dagger from its sheath on my belt. I swing the blade in a wide arc around the room until I find Zola. “Approach the dais Mother Cyrun.” More gasps, along with some protests, ring out, but to Zola’s credit, she doesn’t hesitate.
“There’s fine,” I announce when she’s close enough for me to easily see the hatred lining her every wrinkle.
Jumping down, I walk to the dais and offer my dagger to Rina, hilt first. She’s stunned, though not as stunned as our audience. I’m sure the sound of a single piece of straw being snapped would be heard in the now dead silence.
Rina’s gaze lifts from the knife to me, seeming to search for whatever trap I’m laying for her. But when I don’t renege my offer, she slowly slides from the chair to her knees next to Cayson and reaches for the blade. I watch her expression darken as her fingers curl around the hilt.
Hungrily, she scans Cayson’s prone body as if deciding where the dagger will do the most damage. “Just the leg, my little raven,” I caution, unable to hide my amusement.
Her eyes snap to mine, narrowed with defiance. And then she lifts the knife, two-handed, to bring it down right in the middle of Cayson’s thigh. The man screams and Rina immediately pulls the blade free; not to save him from further pain, but to stab him again. I grab her wrist just as the dagger is about to pierce the skin for the second time. She tries to use her weight to drive it down and I’m forced to turn the blade sideways.
“Rina,” I warn. “It’s done.” Her frustration blazes out at me, and I swear she wishes she could turn the knife on me. “You can bite him if you’d like,” I say in an attempt to appease her bloodlust.
Her disgust is so acute that I laugh as she finally surrenders the dagger. “I don’t blame you,” I tell her. “I wouldn’t want my mouth anywhere near him either.”
Sheathing my blade, I raise my voice and address the crowd again. “Next time, there will be no mercy.”
I hear mumbles of both approval and disapproval, but for once I’m not hounded by doubts. This is my realm and I’ll run it how I see fit.
