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The queen laughed a little. “You are weak just like your father. He couldn’t protect you, couldn’t protect your mother. He couldn’t even protect himself. It might have taken years, but I finally have everything I want, and seeing the end of you and this little cunt might just bring me an ounce of pleasure today. She is your weakness. I can hardly think of any way I’d rather start my reign, you disgusting abomination.”
So it was all true. I could hardly believe it, and I could see the pain pass over Randal’s face too. She really was the stuff of nightmares. I hated her so much that I had to look away. Over the edge of the terrace, I noticed the crowd beginning to grow impatient. It throbbed and pulsed, not like a group of individual people, but like a single thing—like an ocean, or a storm about to break. It seemed full of trapped energy and growing more frustrated by the moment.
As the noise grew and grew, the queen’s body stiffened. It was the first time that I’d seen her show any sign, any hint, of fear. Though I couldn’t see her face, Randal could. He narrowed his eyes at her, starting to look smug and cocky, confident and pleased.
“Maybe we should make a democracy of this shitshow at last. How about we ask them if they prefer you, the murderess and child burner…or me. Any bets?” Randal adjusted his position slightly, broadening his stance, making himself look even bigger and more imposing.
The queen said nothing, but backed up into me further. I hollowed out my stomach to protect myself as best I could. I was so close to her now that I could even see her heartbeat pounding in the veins in her neck. She was terrified but doing her best to hide it. She was like old porcelain, full of cracks.
“The people of this kingdom are stupid, useless sheep. They’ll do what I tell them. Just you fucking watch.”
For a long moment, it was a standoff.
Blades hovering, blood trickling, tension rising. It was more than I could bear. I knew, I simply knew, that if the people were given the chance to support Randal, they would. They just needed someone to say the word. In the crowd nearest to me, around the foot of the terrace, I recognized many faces that I knew well. Samuel, the baker. Landry, the farrier. Ava, the butcher’s daughter. These were my people, as much as they were Randal’s. I may not be any sort of royalty, but I knew how to talk to my people. That, at least, I could do. We were not stupid and useless. We were the source of royal power, and without us, the crown meant nothing. The queen would have nothing without our blessing.
“The queen has to be stopped!” I said, my voice barely a creaky hoarse whisper at first.
The familiar faces nearest to me stopped their cheering to listen to me. I took so much courage from their attention, and I didn’t stop to think about what I was doing, or the danger I was putting myself in. The queen could have ended my life right there and then, but I think, finally, she was starting to understand what that would mean for her. Gathering my strength, I simply acted, I simply spoke, in defense of the man I adored.
“Randal is our rightful king!” I called out, my voice now stronger and more certain. “We cannot let anybody take what is rightfully his! And I promise you,” I said, now staring up at Randal, “He is worth fighting for! So fight for him! Fight for your new king!”
From somewhere to the left, cheers of, “Ran-dal! Ran-dal! Ran-dal!” broke out in rhythmic unison. The royal drum corps echoed the rhythm of the cheers, too, and the chanting spread through the masses like wildfire. The crowd that had felt like an ocean, like a storm, turned into an angry and violent swarm. Little by little, they all began snarling together to get the queen, then take the queen.
And finally, “Kill the queen!”
Chapter 19
Randal
All fucking hell broke loose.
As the crowd began to turn on Patara and made it abundantly fucking clear what they thought of her so-called coup, they went from throwing insults at her and her guards to throwing whatever the fuck they could lay their hands on.
Horse shit, vegetables, stones. A good-sized brick came flying over the parapet, nailing one of the guards in the head. He staggered back, trying to steady himself, but the barrier that surrounded the coronation stone terrace was low, barely knee height, and he fell headfirst down into the crowd. They seized him like hungry animals, ripping that poor motherfucker limb from limb before either my own or my father’s guards could intervene.
