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I know I should apologize and cower, but I can’t bring myself to do it. Tilting my head up, I meet his gaze straight on. “Something is,” I sass. “Something is real fucking funny.”
Marian hisses like a snake, and just as quick as one, she darts out her arm and grips the hood on my robe. When she pulls it down she gapes at me, stunned. “I-it’s not possible,” she stutters.
Even though my cover is blown because of my own recklessness, I can only focus on one thing. “Get your damn hands off of me,” I snarl, pushing her away from me. “The next time you touch me, I’ll fucking kill you.”
I hope she can hear the seriousness in my voice, but not as much as I’m praying she already knows I’m going to end her life. Slowly. Before Apollo drives his sun chariot across the sky, I’ll spill Marian’s blood.
“What’s going on?” Joachim thunders.
All three Tribunal members shoot out of their chairs, making it look like they’re following a choreography.
“That’s… that’s—” I watch the second Marian realizes she can’t tell them who I am.
Since there’s no point in wearing the robe anymore, I pull it off, revealing my battle ready outfit. Well, it’s just black skinny jeans, black combat boots, and a sleeveless tank top that showcases some of my many scars and the weapons strapped to my body.
I want them all to wonder who I am. They should be looking at me with fear and curiosity, which, as I look around, most are.
“Who is she?” Ana asks in a tone that drips with venom. “Tell the Tribunal who that woman is, Marian.”
Andreas looks like he’s swallowed something sour, which is all the proof I need to know he’s also aware of my identity.
“My name,” I say loudly, “Is Acacia Drákon. I’m the daughter of Alexander the Great, and niece of Nikolaos the Ruthless.”
An awed gasp sounds as everyone present reacts. Well, almost everyone—my guys are all rolling their eyes while donning expressions that range from smirking to anger. It’s rather funny the way they seem to never school their facial features in the same way.
“Acacia Drákon died over a year ago,” Joachim says.
He folds his massive arms across his large chest and widens his stance while staring me down.
“Did she now?” I inquire. “How did she perish?”
While Ana explains that I supposedly died at an auction hosted by the Hatts, I return Joachim’s glare ten fold. Trying to get a read on him is like looking for the answers to life in a box of dirt. Pointless and a waste of time since he gives nothing away at all.
“It’s such a bold claim,” he wonders out loud. “If you’re truly her, you should have no trouble proving it.”
I merely shrug, refusing to commit to an answer.
“She should prove it in the maze,” Marian screams, her anger getting the best of her.
This time I refuse to let anyone else punish her. I ignore the Tribunal and quickly close the distance between us. Pulling my arm back, I punch her right in the face. The sickening crunch that follows is music to my ears, and I laugh as blood spurts from her broken nose.
Thank you, Arthur, for lending me some of Morgana’s knuckle dusters. They’re so pretty I almost regret coating them in Marian’s blood. Not really, though.
“You dare—”
I interrupt Andreas’ roar. “Yes I dare,” I shout, making it clear that I’m not bowing down. “Is she on the Tribunal?” When Joachim shakes his head, I continue. “So she has no right speaking for you. Are you so weak you let your whores do your talking?”
When he lunges at me it becomes clear I shouldn’t have goaded him. As I sidestep him, I trip over the bag I discreetly placed on the ground next to me. Lightning quick, he grabs hold of my hair and wrenches my head back.
“You have no right to address the Tribunal that way,” he pants as I try to fight his hold.
“Fuck you!” I hiss as I kick at him.
“You will learn respect, little girl.” His tone changes completely, taking on a darker edge.
He’s more scary when he isn’t shouting.
“Never,” I spit, refusing to give him even an inch.
