Chapter 48 Mav
MAV
We shoved the bastard into the receiving room where this nightmare began. Edric stumbled over the hem of his formal robes, nearly sprawling across the desk before righting himself.
“Sit,” I growled.
He sank into the chair near the desk. “You going to kill me?” he sneered, though his eyes flicked between the sword at my hip and the dagger in my hand.
“Depends.” I stalked forward, blade angled low. “On whether or not you break Quinn’s curse.”
“I won’t help you.”
He stared past me, jaw tight. The same entitled, glassy stare he gave his guests when he wanted to look noble. I wasn’t in the mood for pageantry. I raised my fist, prepared to punch the smugness off his face.
“I CAN’T!” Edric blurted, lifting both hands.
“I swear on the Saints, if you lie to me—”
“I’m not lying!”
A heavy cold slithered through my gut. “What do you mean? You broke the tether between Quinn and me.”
“No,” he shook his head hard enough to send his crown crashing to the floor. “Lord Zachariah did.”
Quinn’s voice sounded over my shoulder. “He speaks truth.”
My brows knit together. “But you said if Quinn married you, it would break the spell—which is Tether and Time…so if you’re not a Tether, then you’d have to be a Time.”
“Except…” Vesper began. “Then wouldn’t he have been able to end his own curse by now? The obnoxiously immortal one?”
Edric pressed his lips together, sweat beading at his brow.
“You haven’t summoned any power in front of us,” Thistle pressed.“
“I’ve never come across anything in my readings about your gift.” Branrir tapped his chin.“Which is odd considering your ancestors spoke incessantly about theirs.”
Edric’s face flushed. My stomach sank. This wasn’t the pompous king we’d suffered with the past few days. This was a man filled with dread.
“Holy shit…” I breathed. “You’re ungifted.”
The room stilled.
Edric’s silence was its own admission.
Vesper leaped onto the desk, sniffing at Edric. “Well, no wonder I couldn’t smell any higher-order magic on him. I thought it was his Saints-awful cologne blocking any other scent—but there isn’t any magic to smell.”
“You and your parents have been lying this whole time,” Thistle said. “They were too proud to admit their only heir was ungifted.”
Branrir snapped his fingers. “That’s why you needed Quinn.”
The king clenched his jaw.
I raised my fist again.
“All right, yes!” Edric blustered. “My parents arranged the marriage to Quinn because if I had gifted children, no one would question me again. And if they did—her Twilight could manipulate all of them anyway.”
Quinn stood at my shoulder, disgust lining her expression. “You misled an entire kingdom, and you meant to use me to continue your dishonesty.”
The king lifted his chin. “Perception is the real power. Quinnie should be grateful.”
“Grateful?” I choked.
“I gave her everything! A crown, protection, a place in history. She would have been executed as a Twilight without my parents’ intervention. I gave her a life.”
“You gave her a prison sentence!”
Thistle folded her arms. “Were you lying, again, when you said both curses would break if she married you?”
“Well…it would have broken mine.” Edric shifted in his seat. “But I had every intention of finding a way to break hers, too. I was going to have Lord Zachariah form a new tether binding her to me so she’d stay awake.”
“How magnanimous of you,” Vesper said, rolling his eyes.
Edric scoffed and tried to stand. Vines sprang from Thistle’s hands, tying him to the chair.
“Nuh uh uh,” I chided, slowly drawing my dagger.
Edric’s gaze tracked the blade. I slammed the dagger down beside his hand, biting deep into the wood of the armrest. He flinched so hard the chair rocked.
“One more question.” I leaned forward, crowding his space. “Did you strike her?”
His eyes darted to Quinn. I looked over my shoulder. She stood a step behind me, drowning in that ridiculous wedding gown.
She swallowed once, hard—and nodded.
That was all I needed.
I wrenched the blade from the wood and buried it through Edric’s hand before he could draw breath. His scream ripped through the chamber as the dagger pinned his hand to the armrest. Blood welled around the wound.
“That,” I said, my voice deadly calm, “was for laying a hand on her.”
He panted, eyes wild—then gave a bark of unhinged laughter. “Oh, it was much more than a hand,” he rasped. “Tell your little knight how you whimpered for me, Quinnie. How I reclaimed what’s mine.”
The air fractured.
Every hair on my body stood on end.
He hadn’t said the words, but I knew exactly what he was implying. I turned to her. She stared at the floor.
“Quinn,” I said, tone as gentle as I could make it. “What happened?” When she didn’t answer, I took a step closer. “Please.”
“He tried…I stopped him.”
And I knew.
I knew right then what he had tried to do.
Had tried to take from her.
The roar in my ears muffled his next words.
“You didn’t stop me. You begged me for it.” Edric dragged his gaze over her with a look so lecherous I was tempted to pluck his eyes from his skull. “You weren’t as cold as you pretend to be—”
I lashed at him. “Shut the fu—”
“I placed that depraved dream in your head after putting you to sleep.” Quinn seethed.
“I used my Twilight magic, you arrogant, despicable bastard. You were drooling on the floor while I put as much distance between us as possible, which was not much considering you had the doors warded so I could not leave.”
He locked her in?
The reasons to kill this man were piling up by the second.
Edric let out a low, vile chuckle. “Whatever you need to tell yourself, Quinnie.”
She flushed a dark red with shame she didn’t deserve. My hands shook with a fury unlike anything I had ever experienced. Despite her ability to stop him, he had every intention of taking everything he’d wanted from her. Yes, it was her body, but it was also her peace and dignity he’d threatened.
I could let none of it stand.
My sword sang as I drew it. I grabbed Edric by the hair and wrenched his head back. He yelped, face contorted in pain. I considered letting him beg for his life, but I needed this to end more than I needed his fear.
“How dare you force yourself on her!” I snarled, forcing him to look at me. “You think a crown makes you untouchable? You are no king and a pathetic excuse for a man.”
I leaned in, letting my rage seep into every syllable. “You are nothing.”
His eyes widened as my blade drove through his chest, straight through his rotten heart.
Sounds of shock rippled through the room.
Edric jerked once, his final breath fleeing his lungs in a wet, rattling wheeze. His body slumped against the desk. I stood over him, chest heaving.
Vesper broke the silence. “So…we should probably get the seven hells out of here before the court wakes up and finds their king looking like a pincushion.”
I wrenched my sword free. Blood dripped thick and steady to the floor. I looked down at my hands, at the red, and—Saints forgive me—I had no guilt or regret.
“We need to move,” I said, wiping my sword clean on Edric’s robes.
Branrir glanced down at Edric’s corpse. “This is…a historic moment. It bears documenting.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Thistle said, waving a hand. “But unless your history books have an appendix on how not to get executed for regicide, we need to run.”
Vesper pressed an ear to the door, listening for noise. “The ballroom's still quiet. What’s the plan, fellow fugitives?”
Quinn looked down at herself, at the heavy sleeves, the suffocating bodice, the ridiculous train. “Do I have time to change?” she asked, breath tight.
I shook my head.
She ripped the trailing sleeves from her arms. “Help me with this,” she said, reaching for the train.
“Gladly.”
She pivoted, and I yanked the train free. I never knew clothing could be this heavy. Quinn continued to rip fabric away, leaving her in a simpler silhouette she could move in.
“I loathe this dress,” she muttered.
“I’ll happily rip off any clothing you ask me to,” I said with a wink, grabbing her hand.
She rolled her eyes, but the smile she gave me was worth it.
“Gag!” Vesper said loudly. “Some of us with better ears can hear you.”
“Let’s go, lovebirds,” Branrir said.
“Wait,” Vesper said, holding up a paw. “One more thing.”
He leaped back onto the desk, flicked his claws out, and carved a U onto Edric’s cheek.
“Was that necessary?” Thistle asked.
“Entirely,” Vesper replied with a grin.
We burst into the corridor. Behind us, the receiving room door slammed shut, sealing in the body, the blood, and the fallen crown. We ran from a multitude of sins toward a future I wasn’t sure we’d be allowed to have.