Chapter 27
Chapter
Twenty-Seven
TESNI
“Your Majesty,” I say as I curtsey deeply, my gold and crimson gown falling out around me like the petals of a rose.
“Better late than never, I suppose,” King Tybalt grumbles, voice reedy and thin. I grit my teeth but smile at him as I rise.
“Yes, Your Majesty. We do apologize for the delay.” As far as the old prick—and every other royal in the Alliance—knows, I escaped the Hunters who were taking me to Duskthorne before a ransom could be negotiated, and fought my way back to Barony in hopes to keep our alliance with Marrowood in place.
So, he’s truly letting me apologize for being kidnapped.
The sooner I can render him to ash, the better.
We spread the word of my miraculous return and waited for the first batch of battle-ready rats from the laboratories to make their way to The Perilous to meet Blackheart’s forces before I made my way to Marrowood.
With any luck, they’ll defeat Blackheart easily enough and we’ll be one step closer to taking Duskthorne and the entire empire.
I wonder if Thea will be with them. Would Dorian force her to fight for him instead of keeping her in the cages?
If what they say about Amon’s army on the tundra is true.
..well, she’s powerful enough that Dorian could surely see that having her on the battlefield would be the better choice.
I’ll admit that even I wouldn’t wish life under that monster on anyone, but especially not my sister.
I don’t hate Thea. I never did, despite what she might think.
I do love her, as much as I can love anyone, I think, but given a choice between her or me, I choose me. What’s so wrong with that?
Even so, I do hope that Dorian isn’t torturing her—or worse.
I’ve heard the stories of that place, the way Dorian keeps female Gifteds to breed with in hopes of keeping the lines going.
I shudder at the thought. I wouldn’t want that for Thea, not when her only sin is being my twin—well, that and ruining my plans, though I can’t truly fault her for that.
But will she be fighting with them? By force...or by choice? Would she really turn against the rest of the empire? It’s possible, after the things I’ve done to her. She could hate me that much. And I couldn’t blame her.
I suppose I’ll find out soon enough. Barony has promised that we are partners in this now, that he will keep me apprised of what’s happening with this war and his plans.
I barely stop myself from looking to him now.
He insisted on delivering me to Tybalt himself, to ensure that nothing went amiss this time and to solidify their alliance.
Tybalt’s entire court is present, watching eagerly as he receives his gift.
I feel as if I’m on display, one of the living statues that Barony used to bring in for his balls—the men and women painted gold and forced to remain standing and still for hours upon hours.
They were quite lovely, come to think of it.
Perhaps I’ll demand that we bring them back for our wedding ceremony.
But first I must get through this one.
I wait as King Tybalt looks me over, taking in every inch of me in a way that makes my skin crawl.
He’s older than I am by at least forty years, much older than Barony, and the thought of consummating a marriage with him makes bile rise in my throat.
Fortunately, that won’t be necessary. We only need to wed in front of witnesses, mark the marriage decree in blood, and then it is done.
I am officially his queen. The consummation rights are simply a perk—and obligation, for the woman—of marriage, not a requirement.
“Even prettier in person, little ember,” he rasps, leering with his gray teeth on full display. I keep my face blank, my smile genial, just as a good little Gifted would for her king.
“Thank you, Your Majesty.”
I can hear the courtiers whispering, some in awe, some in disgust—I do have quite a reputation, after all—all in wonder of what might happen next.
They must know as well as I that Tybalt has something else planned.
He wouldn’t have gathered the entire court, all of his highest-ranking officials and houses, simply to receive his promised payment for joining the Alliance.
Tybalt finally shifts his gaze from me to the rest of his court, looking down on them from the head table atop the raised dais.
Everyone else is seated at the numerous long tables set in neat rows on either side of the wide aisle running the length of the feasting chamber.
It’s grand, though not nearly as opulent as anything in Castle Lyanna, adorned with crystal chandeliers and sconces, and deep purple tapestries hanging from the high ceilings, the three-headed serpent sigil of Marrowood emblazoned upon each.
“What do you say to a little demonstration?” he asks the room loudly.
“We’ve all heard the rumors, of course. The great Flame of Lyanna—Flame of Marrowood, now,” he says, grinning directly at Barony.
I can practically feel his fury, but I know that he’s playing his role behind me, inclining his head to Tybalt in acknowledgment, allowing for the change of ownership.
“But I, for one, would like to see it in person. What say you?”
The court claps and cheers for their king. He turns his gaze back to me and I incline my head.
“Of course, Your Majesty. Whatever you desire. Shall I light some candles? Spell words in flames across the air? The court at Lyanna particularly enjoy that one, or—”
He cuts me off. “I think something a little more...substantial, if you please.” He gestures over my shoulder and I turn as the doors on the far end of the room open.
Guards march in, shoving a group of four people before them.
They’re in rags and filthy, clearly prisoners.
I glance quickly to Barony who gives me the tiniest nod of his head, telling me to keep to the plan, no matter what.
“These prisoners have been sentenced to death. You will carry out the execution.”
A young man, early twenties, trembles, but keeps his shoulders back.
The older man, the faintest of gray streaking his black hair, stands stoic and strong as he reaches to clasp the hand of the woman next to him, the shackles around their wrists clanking quietly.
The woman squeezes his hand back and raises her eyes to meet mine.
A single tear streams down her cheek as she grabs the other woman’s hand with her free one.
No, not woman, I realize. Girl. She can’t be more than thirteen or fourteen, and she looks to the woman who is obviously her mother, swallowing hard as her lip trembles.
My stomach roils ever so slightly. I’ve killed before, countless times. I’ve burned villages and front lines of armies. But this feels...different. I’ve never looked anyone in the eye before I took their lives. I’ve never seen the accusation and the horror and the fear.
I clear my throat lightly. “What are their crimes, your majesty?”
“Nothing!” the mother cries, fire in her eyes. “Nothing more than demand money owed for food the palace stole from us!”
“SILENCE!” Tybalt roars, spittle flying.
Guards step closer to the family, threat clear and the woman presses her lips into a hard line, pulling her daughter closer. This family has been sentenced to death because they asked for what was theirs? My stomach roils ever so slightly, a tiny ripple in the darkness.
“It doesn’t matter. You will do as you are told,” Tybalt spits at me, voice harsh and grating as he rises from the table and comes to stand before me.
I make a show of flinching away from him, acting afraid.
“You are now my flame to wield, girl.” He unlocks my collar with the small iron key and pulls the metal away. “Now fucking obey.”
“Yes, Your Majesty,” I say quietly, bowing my head and turning back to the group.
The guards have moved away now, leaving the prisoners standing alone in the middle of the aisle.
I don’t want to meet her eye, but my gaze fixes on the mother’s all the same.
She juts her chin, and squeezes her daughter and husband’s hands.
“Mama?” the girl whispers, voice shaking. The woman casts me one more disgusted, defiant look and turns to face her daughter. She pulls the girl close and tucks her face into her chest.
“It will be ok, Clara. Everything will be ok.”
I don’t like the pain that slices through me, the disgust at myself.
I let the flames loose and screaming fills the feasting chamber with the smell of charred flesh.
The courtiers gasp and shrink away, some people crying, some people shielding their eyes or covering their ears.
I will the fire hotter, ending it as quickly as possible.
Something about the woman’s gaze unnerved me as nothing ever has.
The screams die almost as soon as they began, the bodies crumbling and falling away.
When I pull the fire back, only piles of ash and bits of charred bone remain.
The entire room goes silent and I blink at the spot where the mother and daughter stood moments ago. I don’t...I don’t like this feeling. I blink again, willing it to go away, willing the typical cold indifference I feel to settle over me.
After what feels like an eternity, Tybalt laughs loudly, clapping as if a jester just performed a particularly entertaining trick juggling fruits and knives. The rest of the court joins in uneasily, and a moment later, I feel the collar being snapped back into place around my throat.
“Well done!” Tybalt exclaims, still laughing. “I see why you’ve kept her under such lock and key all these years, Barony. She is quite the little toy, is she not?”
He raises his glass to Barony before taking a long sip.
We’re still standing before the head table on the dais, looking out over the room, the sea of people.
I feel...odd. Uneasy. My eyes water and my throat feels tight.
Makers, is this guilt? Regret? Disgust? I try desperately to force the feeling away, to focus on what I know will come next.
“I know what you had planned, Barony. How you planted spies in my midst, ready to kill me and take your precious Fire Bitch back with you, putting someone of your choosing on the throne and keeping the alliance with Marrowood in place.” Barony makes a show of paling, body tensing, and Tybalt grins, looking supremely satisfied with himself.
“Nothing happens in my kingdom that I don’t know about, boy.
I've been on this throne longer than you’ve been alive.
Now, I am a man of my word, so I will keep up my end of the bargain.
I pledge Marrowood to the Alliance and will supply your army with as weapons as you need.
But you will not be taking her back. In fact, she is going to marry me, here, tonight, and become queen of Marrowood.
She will never leave this kingdom again,” he sneers.
“What? But I—” I allow panic to seep into my voice, let it show in my eyes when I meet Tybalt’s gaze.
I swallow hard, pretending to fear whatever it is I see there, and bow my head.
“Yes, Your Majesty,” I whisper. I glance to Barony and see him clenching and unclenching his fists at his sides, two guards in purple uniforms flanking him now.
“As it please you, Your Majesty,” he finally grits out, inclining his head and admitting defeat. Tybalt grins again, throwing out an arm.
“High Priest Aquilar, if you please.”
Another old man approaches, his gray beard nearly reaching the floor.
He recites some words that I barely pay attention to, some nonsense about marriage being blessed by the Makers, invites any of the witnesses to object if they see fit—no one does, of course, many still cutting uneasy glances to the pile of ash and bone in the center of the room—and presents a scroll for us to seal our union.
The last step.
A golden needle pricks each of our fingers in turn and I press my bloody fingertip to the parchment. Tybalt does the same and the High Priest dusts both spots of blood with white sand, sealing our bond forever.
“Is...is that it?” I whisper quietly. “We’re married? I’m...I’m Queen of Marrowood?”
“The fun part will come after dinner, my little fire cunt, when I take you in front of the entire court so all will know who you belong to,” he says, voice thick with promised pain, “but yes, in the eyes of the High Priests, the Makers themselves, and the laws of Hypathia, we are wed and you are queen.”
I sigh and turn my face up to his, reaching out to place a hand on his chest. His wicked smile falters at the touch, then disappears completely when he sees a smile of my own curling my lips, mine far more sinister and twisted than his could ever hope to be.
“That’s so lovely to hear.”
His eyes fly wide as a gaping, fiery hole appears in his chest, right over his heart. He gasps and writhes, but to his credit, he doesn’t scream.
“Your...collar...” he pants, eyes filled with pain as he falls to his knees. I keep a hold on his chest, burning through skin and muscle and bone.
“This old thing?” I ask, waving to the metal about my throat that is no more than a necklace. “Beautiful, isn't it? It was a gift from my future husband, King Barony.”
I glance to Barony now, splattered in crimson, bloody knife in his hand and two dead guards behind him.
He slowly backs towards me, keeping the knife out as he eyes the other guards.
The room is staring in stunned silence, but I can feel the chaos about to erupt.
I send a ring of fire around the perimeter, keeping everyone in place.
“I am your queen,” I call. “You will obey or you will burn. The choice is yours.” Tybalt slumps to the ground, a smoking hole through his chest, a crumbling, charred lump of meat where his heart should be.
I turn to face the gathered court—my court now—blood mixing with the flames dancing across my palm. “Kneel.”
A power like I’ve never known fills me as one by one, every person in the room sinks to their knees before me. I grin, the uneasy feeling from before all but burned away to nothing, disappearing like smoke on the wind. What was one little family compared to this??
I meet Barony’s eyes and he smiles widely. I finally understand him. I finally understand my true destiny.
They will all kneel before me.