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Weakness overcame me then, the potent solace of relief making me loll against the ruthless grip of the men who held me.
“You can have your brother or your father-in-law, Prince Valeri,” Welzes was saying from up on the dais, his gaze flickering spitefully, “but not both. The other will swing by sunset, so I hope you choose wisely-”
“Or,” growled Valeri, drawing his sword to buy those final seconds of vital distraction, “you can remove your unworthy ass from that fucking throne, Welzes, before I do it for you.”
Every guard in the room but Ren’s tensed, unsheathing their own swords and closing in on my brother. The men at the foot of the dais reached him first, cutting across the base of the steps to prevent him from ascending them, but Val merely twirled his sword in a lazy arc to keep them all at bay.
“Stand down,” Ren demanded as he rose to his feet, his voice echoing around the room despite the clamour of metal and frantic murmurs. He looked every inch a royal: head high, shoulders back, gaze proud and unflinching. Even the blood on his clothes gave him a heroic war-drenched appearance rather than the feeble victim he’d seemed a moment earlier. “Consider that an order from your king.”
*
Chapter Forty-Four
“Needless to say,” I said, because I was sure there were some in the room who needed it spelled out for them, “I do not have the Voice. If I did, you would already have obeyed, and yet here you all are, staring at me instead of lowering your swords like I told you to. So I’ll point out that you’ve been lied to, and thank younotto kill me.”
I didn’t move to Mathias like I wanted to: Velichkov had very deliberately pushed me beneath the lip of the archer’s balcony when he tossed me to Starling, and I didn’t dare move out from beneath its shadow until I was sure that I wouldn’t be shot based on a mere rumour of dark magic.
Starling herself edged away from me and into the crowd, her face still disguised by the thick beard she’d grown by agitating hair follicles with her Touch. I’d told her that her height and stature needed fixing as well, for no one would believe that someone as short and skinny – andugly,remembering what she’d said about me to her and Mat’s Mazekhstani friends– as her would have been appointed as a palace guard, but that was when she’d smirked and taken my tongue. I could only thank Dios that Starling had bothered to disable my pain receptors first…and that she’d actually followed through with our plan by returning it to me as soon as Velichkov had distracted the room, because with her, one never knew.
Just like I hadn’t known if the real guards outside the throne room would let us enter, even with me supposedly muted and bound. If we’d arrive in time, if Velichkov could get me to Starling without anyone else seizing me first, if Welzes would have us all killed on sight.
But with Mathias’ life on the line, I hadn’t hesitated.
Because it was what we did, throwing ourselves into danger to save each other time and time again without thought or logic. Maybe it was unhealthy and maybe it would get one of us killed one day, but as long as it was me, I was alright with that.
I flashed him a quick grin.
Mat didn’t return it. In fact, hescowledat me from where he was pressed between two hulking guards, but considering the amount of blood that was gathering on the tiles beneath his trailing feet, the lack of appropriate adoration and appreciation on his face was undoubtedly a result of blood loss. I was sure the well-deserved gratitude would appear eventually.
“What the fuck, Ren?” he snapped. “Get out of here!”
Or not.
Welzes stood from my throne, sneering down at us all derisively. “Arrest the traitor prince. If he resists,kill him.”
At first, no one moved, perhaps from the shock of hearing me speak when a minute ago I’d had no tongue. And then, like a wave building from a ripple, one of the palace guards took an uncertain step towards me and was swiftly copied by a dozen more. Those surrounding Valeri and Mathias watched on cautiously, but didn’t move from their own assignments.
“You do not take orders from him,” I told the room, meeting the eyes of anyone who would look at me in turn. Guards, nobles, servants. “Zidhan Welzes is not your king. I am.”
Welzes scoffed. “No, he’s a bastard, which means he doesn’t have a drop of royal blood in his veins. You all heard Yanev when he spoke before you yesterday.”
Mat’s eyes had been fixed on mine this whole time and now they widened in hopeful expectation, assuming I’d produce Dima like we’d planned.
I wished I had an answer better than the one I was forced to give him, which was a small shake of my head. There would be no miraculous proving of my heritage, no persuasive flourish that would send them all down to their knees before me.
My lover strained against the hands holding him, his beautiful face creasing in anguish and fear.
Not for himself: he was far too selfless for that, but for me.
“He’s a bastard,” Welzes hissed again, when the guards didn’t seem inclined to take hold of me.
“And thank fuck for that,” I said loudly. “Iván Aratorre was a coward, a bully, and a man both blind and deaf to the suffering of our people.”
There were a few shocked murmurs from the crowd, a sharp gasp, and more than one faint nod.
“Whether he was my father or not, I am not him,” I continued, similar to what I’d told Astrid Panarina, and I felt the words flow from me with the same conviction as they had then. “And I will not rule like him. I will aim to be fair. Just. I will not tolerate crime nor misbehaviour, but I will ensure the punishments are proportionate to the wrongdoing. I will uphold rights, enforce obligations, and recognise the value inallof my subjects.”
I saw the mouths of a few women open in surprise, understanding the meaning behind the promise in a way that most of the men evidently did not. They shared hopeful glances – not daring to believe, not yet, but wanting to.
