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Queen Ro just happened to be the first and only one he conceived with, so whether she liked it or not, he married her to make the baby legitimate. You’d think after being elevated to such a high position, her life would’ve gotten better, but that’s when her real nightmare began. The rumors of her abuse were rampant.
Zarid kept his new wife hidden away from the public, and it was a strategic move on his part. Out of sight, out of mind. I think he knew if he didn’t let the people see how miserable she was, they would ignore her suffering.
It worked, even on me.
Under Zarid’s rule, I was obedient to a fault. Yes, I mentally opposed the king’s practice of collecting women like trinkets, but voicing my opinion on the matter would’ve been treason.
A lot of good it did me to keep my mouth shut. Not long after Queen Ro gave birth to a son, I was suddenly sentenced to die with no trial and no explanation. Zarid had me violently whipped before ordering two of his soldiers to take me far away, kill me, and dump me in an unmarked grave.
By the grace of fate, I survived, but I was changed forever.
Mutilated.
The only gift I was given in exchange for my loyalty was disfigurement—hundreds of scars on my back, arms, chest, and face.
So yes, I have regrets, and I wish I’d done things differently.
If I’d known I was going to have to spend the rest of my life being this ugly, I would’ve stirred up some shit. I would’ve formed a rebellion, whispering treasonous ideas in my fellow warriors’ ears. We could’ve stormed the castle, killed Zarid, and freed the women he’d turned into his victims.
At least then I would’ve deserved the punishment I received, and maybe I would’ve made a positive difference for the powerless and abused before I died in a righteous battle.
But that’s not what happened.
I didn’t save Queen Ro back then.
I’m a couple thousand years too late, but I can finally make things right.
I notice Ellister studying my scars. I ignore it. His scrutiny doesn’t bother me. I’m used to being stared at. Even when people try to resist looking, their self-control whittles down until their curiosity gets the best of them.
Without a goodbye, I pivot away from Ellister and start heading for the wooden door under the stone archway.
Just as I reach it, he warns, “Be careful with Armand.”
“Careful how?” I ask without turning around.
“He’s a wizard who likes tricks. Entertainment is his favorite commodity, and he won’t hesitate to use you for sport.”
Sport. Is that what he’s been doing with Queen Ro? Tormenting her to appease his boredom? The thought makes me want to rip his head off.
And I might. I haven’t decided yet.
What would be the punishment if I were to kill the overlord?
I could fight off his henchmen if they decide to retaliate. From what I’ve seen of the dark fae, they’re undernourished and weak. Just before this trip, some of them invaded the Night Realm, and it took only three other warriors and myself mere minutes to defeat their pathetic army of twenty-five.
I could just murder my way to the queen and leave without a backward glance.
Then again, there’s a treaty in place now. The kings of Valora drew up a contract for peace with Vaeront. Armand wasn’t at the meeting to sign it, but as a ruler of the Lost Land, he might be included.
The last idea I should be entertaining is adding flames to the fire of this conflict. After the chokehold the dark fae put on Valora in the past few years—a widespread plague and famine—I can’t risk the fragile truce.
I heave out a sigh as I come to the conclusion that I’ll have to negotiate instead. King Zander already gave me permission to bargain for his mother’s freedom, and he trusts my discretion.
There’s an indignant huff behind me. “What, I don’t even get a thank you?”
Screwing my face up, I glance back at Ellister. “Thank you?”
“You’re welcome.” He places a hand over his chest and gives a slight bow as if he’s just done a brilliant act that deserves applause.
