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It takes Tara a moment to place the term. When she does, her eyes widen in horror. “I thought that was a myth. An exaggeration, at least.”
“It’s about to become reality,” I say with a shrug.
“But it’s horrifying.” Tara’s voice dies to a whisper. “Does the whole pack have to partake?”
“Only those who were directly involved in the planning or concealment of the riot plans,” I reassure her. “But I’m sure we’ll all be on hand to watch.”
Tara shudders and presses a hand to her mouth but composes herself before she gags. “Bailey, how do you feel about this?”
“I feel like serious crimes deserve a serious punishment.” I don’t ever want to live through anything like the riot, ever again. If this deters the rest of the pack, I’ll be able to sleep easier at night.
“But this is Ashton,” she sputters in disbelief. “You’ve known him since you were children—”
“And he gutted my husband,” I remind her tersely. “Ashton’s pride will never allow him to stop coming for me, or Nathan. He’s not going to quit trying to win. If I have to choose between his life or mine, I’ll gladly remove his heart, myself.”
Tara stares at me as though she’s never seen me before. I don’t blame her; ever since the riot, ever since I was attacked by the assassin, I don’t recognize myself, either. But her disappointment and shock still sting me.
“I’ll do what I can to get Clare released, too. Then, things can go back to normal,” I say.
I’m not sure who I’m trying to fool with that last part.
I decide that Clare and Tara shouldn’t have dinner together anymore while Clare is on house arrest. There must be a reason that Tara was cleared and she wasn’t. I invite Tara to dine with Nathan and I. It’s not an attempt to mend fences between the two of them. Nathan banished her husband and seized all their assets for the pack, leaving them cast out and penniless. That’s not something I could expect her to forgive. But I want Nathan to know her, to see what she means to me, so that hopefully, no matter what her traitor spouse does, he won’t punish her.
It’s nearly seven when my phone chimes with a message from Hannah.
His Majesty regrets that he must cancel your dinner plans tonight.
Also, the bitch is here.
I toss my phone down in anger and storm from my office to his study.
There are raised voices inside as I approach. I hold my finger to my lips to warn the guards not to speak, and I linger just outside the door.
“You started out at ten, now where do you go from here?” Amber asks, sounding as exasperated with Nathan as I usually am.
But he sounds just as exasperated with her. “I didn’t start at ten. I started at eight, perhaps—”
“You backed yourself into a corner today,” she shoots back. “There is no punishment worse than Lycaon’s Banquet. This is going to cause outrage in other packs. Nathan, you’ll look like a tyrant!”
I shoulder past the guards and throw the door open. “I believe you’re meant to address him as Your Majesty.” I turn my glare at Nathan. “You need to get changed for dinner.”
He sighs in exhausted irritation. “I sent a message to your assistant.”
“I read it. And I don’t accept it.” My heart pounds as I realize that I can make the biggest scene I want, right here in front of his mistress, and he will choose her over me. I lost my temper and as a result, I’m going to lose face.
I’m going to be humiliated, and the anticipation of that already clouds my vision with tears.
I lash out with my embarrassment, hissing at Amber, “You failed at being queen once before. It’s not your role, so keep your mouth shut on political matters when speaking to His Majesty.”
“Bailey,” he cautions.
“No!” I whirl back to him. “I am your mate, and I am your queen. She is the desperate climber who spreads her legs for you. I’m warning both of you, right now, that I will not lose my place here.”
Way to voice your greatest fear to them while they stand there staring at you like you’ve completely lost control. And I have, I realize. I’m yelling because Nathan, one of the people I least like having dinner with, cancelled on dinner with me. I’m yelling because Amber, in addition to being my husband’s mistress, gave voice to my anxiety when she called Nathan a tyrant. I saw that same thought expressed clearly on Tara’s face earlier.
“You will release Clare from house arrest,” I tell Nathan, the exhaustion of the day sapping me of my rage. “If you can’t find out who sent the assassin for me, perhaps turn your attention to the one person in this room who stands to gain most from my death.”
