Total pages in book: 239
Estimated words: 224443 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1122(@200wpm)___ 898(@250wpm)___ 748(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 224443 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1122(@200wpm)___ 898(@250wpm)___ 748(@300wpm)
My heart stuttered as understanding seeped into me, along with a hefty dose of disbelief. “You…you’re worried I will try to stake a claim to the throne.”
“You could,” he whispered. “Many wouldn’t believe you. I doubt you’d have the support of even your own mother. But enough people would be willing to believe you—believe anyone who claimed to be a Mierel.”
All these years, I’d assumed that Tavius had little to no desire to take the Crown. Never once had I even considered that my right to the throne drove his hateful behavior. I’d been wrong—so wrong.
“I have a question, sister? What do you want me to do right now?”
Die.
Die a long, slow, and painful death.
“You want me to get off you?” he taunted. “Then say it.”
I said nothing.
He dug his fingers into my hair and jerked my head so sharply, pain shot down my spine. “Say it with respect, Sera.”
Every part of my being rebelled, but I forced my jaws open. I forced the words to the tip of my tongue. “Get off me, Tavius.”
“No. That’s not it. You know it.”
I hated him. Gods, I hated him. “Please.”
He tsked under his breath, clearly enjoying this. “It’s, ‘Will you please get off me, King Tavius?’”
Opening my eyes, I focused on the rays of light streaming in through the small window. “You are not my King, nor will you ever be.”
Tavius stilled above me and then released his grip, suddenly rolling off me. I quickly shifted to my back, breathing heavily.
Tavius smiled as he backed away. “Gods, I hoped you’d answer that way. Do you know what you just did?”
I glared at him, my jaw aching.
“You made a treasonous statement.” That fevered glow returning to his eyes, Tavius gripped the handle of my dagger, tearing it free. A chunk of wood flew into the air. He slipped the dagger into his belt and barked out one word. “Guards.”
I shot to my feet as the door swung open, and two Royal Guards stalked in. But it wasn’t them that sent a cold bolt of dread down my spine. It was the one who remained in the hallway. It was Pike—the Royal Guard who’d stood outside my…my stepfather’s office the day I’d found the Coupers. It was what was in his hands.
A bow.
Aimed straight at my chest.
Everything in me slowed as I stared at the sharp edge of the arrow, held steady in Pike’s hands.
“Fight them, and I think you know exactly what will happen,” Tavius said.
I couldn’t look away from the sharp point.
I was fast, but not faster than an arrow. The eager look on Pike’s face told me that he really hoped that I fought. The smile on Tavius’s face said the same.
And it was in that moment that I realized that whatever Tavius planned, now or later, there was a good chance he didn’t expect me to survive. And there was also a high probability that he wanted me to beg, cry, or plead.
I wouldn’t give them that. I wouldn’t fight them. They would not get any of that from me. My back straightened as I inhaled slowly and deeply. I would not give them anything.
Things had slowed inside me but felt as if they’d sped up outside of me. The two guards gripped my arms with gloved hands, walking me from the chamber. Tavius spoke to the Royal Guard who waited at the end of the hall, speaking too quietly for me to hear. The guard turned, quickly jogging off ahead of us as I was forced down to the main floor and led through the hall the servants used.
The faces of those we passed were a blur. I didn’t know if they looked our way, how much they saw, or what they thought as the guards walked me into the Great Hall, passing between columns adorned in gold scrollwork as we entered the grandest chamber in Wayfair. Banners taller than many of the homes within Carsodonia hung from the dome-shaped glass ceiling to the floors, the golden Royal Crest glittering in the light from the numerous gas lamps and candle sconces. A secondary wall of pillars circled the main floor, creating a somewhat private alcove. They too were adorned with golden designs, and that scrollwork continued across the marble and limestone floor, down the wide steps of the alcove, and then forward like veins of gold, stretching all the way to the raised dais where the King’s and Queen’s diamond and citrine-jeweled thrones sat.
They were empty now, but one was draped in white fabric. Black petals had been strewn about the cloth, a ceremonial act representing the King’s passing.
The massive circular chamber was still in a state of disarray from the prior night’s celebrations. Servants came to a complete standstill as we entered—dozens of them.
“Everyone out,” Tavius barked. “Now.”
No one hesitated. They scurried from the Hall in a flurry of starched white tunics and blouses. My gaze collided with one. Her. The young girl who’d been in the room where the guards had been lying in wait. Her blue eyes were wide as she quickly looked away, casting her gaze to the floor.