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Perhaps they believed me when I’d said I didn’t know where Ren was, or they really were so confident that he would come for me that they didn’t need to wade through the inevitable turmoil of truth and lies that torture produced.
And that pissed me off. Because they were right: Ren would be on his way if not already here, not for me but for Yanev, and my capture meant that his enemies could lay their trap for him without him evenknowingthat’s what it was. Hell, if Welzes and Navar’s plan had been the only thing in motion, then at least my lover would have been aware of what faced him in a rescue attempt, but he was coming in here blind, expecting his arrival to be a surprise.
Once again, I’d fucked everything up with nothing more than good intentions.
If I’d been left alone in a cell, I could have redirected my frustrations into attempting to escape or somehow warning Ren and the others, but I was held securely between two guards – a different pair to last night, who’d apparently finished their shifts and got the pure fucking luxury of being allowed torest– and kept on display for the false king’s court as he took oaths of loyalty from his people, one by one.
Even Navar had retired from the hall a short while ago, perhaps sensing that his constant presence was undermining Welzes’ perceived authority. An impression I’d done my best to foster with a few sarcastic comments whose cost came in the form of more physical blows, but the pain in my jaw and ribs was well worth the unsettled mutters it drew from the crowd. And when I’d loudly suggested that having me gagged would be the sensible response from a ruler who feared what I had to say, I’d ensured I suffered no such thing, Welzes not having the political savviness to manoeuvre his way around that one like Ren would have easily managed.
Yet my presence here was calculated, I knew, including parading me chained, bloody, and exhausted. Juxtaposed against the fresh appearances of those gathered in the hall, I was marked asother; their unworthy enemy. A visible target and reminder of what Welzes professed to protect Quareh from, made more potent by the fact that I wasn’t just a nameless northerner but their royalty...and aligned withthat fucking traitor Renato Aratorre, which of course was twisted to portray Ren as in league with the south’s enemies on top of the already long list of his alleged crimes.
“Lord Pablo Martinez, Your Majesty,” a man snivelled, his nose nearly touching the floor as he bowed, and I narrowed my eyes at the creep who had obviously replaced Clementina as the palace’s herald.
But then Martinez shuffled forward and my distaste resettled on the lord.
“Martinez,” said Welze, sharp and brusque. “You’ve already sworn your loyalty, have you not? I thought Navar...I thoughtIordered you back to the border?”
“Ah yes, my king, I was hoping to appear before you today to discuss that small matter,” Martinez said hastily. “I could only assume there had been a mistake when the message was relayed?”
“There was no mistake?” Welzes said, sounding confused why such a thing would be assumed.
“Ah, but you see it was me who brought you the northern prince-”
“There was no mistake.” This time his voice was the cold authority of a ruler.
“But-”
“My lord,” I said loudly. “Even I realise that he’s telling you to fuck off, and I’m just the dumb barbarian. Isn’t that right?”
Both Martinez and Welzes floundered, clearly torn between wanting to concur with my words and disagree on principle. I snorted.
“It’s a sorry state of affairs for Quareh when you’re the heads of the country and its army,” I mused. Someone in the crowd gave a cough that sounded like a laugh, and they both bristled.
“Remind Nathanael of what I have repeatedly told him this morning about speaking in my court,” Welzes snapped, and a moment later there was the familiar dull pain of a fist embedding itself in my stomach.
I grunted as the wind was driven out of me, and then raised my head as soon as I was able to redraw breath. “It’s not…your…court.”
He jeered and tapped the toe of his boot on the dais. “Didn’t you once stand here and pledge loyalty to the crown I wear? It seems the trustworthiness of a northerner’s word is as poor as-”
“I pledged loyalty toQuareh,” I confirmed. “Which is why I aided Ren when you and Navar betrayed him, and why I will not bow to you now. You arenot its king.”
“You will not bow to me?”
Welzes stood from his throne, and the room began to buzz with anticipation, that unsettled kind of murmuring that said the court knewsomethingwas about to happen, even if they weren’t sure what.
He gestured for my guards to let go of me. They stepped back, leaving me standing free but for the chains that still weighed down my aching limbs.
“You will bow,” he said, his lips curling back as he spoke each word with precise pronunciation. He was careful not to let any trace of his Lukian accent seep into the words, augmenting the lie that he belonged among these people even as he disdained my own heritage with the derisive comments aboutnorthernersthat had clearly come from Navar.
The space around me rapidly grew, as if the other occupants of the throne room were afraid of catching the dirt from my skin, or the fatal accusations of treason which had been hung around my neck.
Welzes cocked his head, letting his crown glitter in the sunlight streaming through the windows.
“Youwillbow, little prince. Or you will not like what happens next.”
*
Chapter Forty
