9. Verena
Verena
Schultz rears back. "What do you mean?"
"Do you not use that term here? I mean you're being let go. Terminated, relieved of your duties, sacked. You are no longer the chamberlain of Isenmere Castle. I hereby unappoint you."
I put on a theatrical show of what I imagine a knight's dubbing looks like, but in reverse.
Gasps and murmurs fill the courtyard. More servants have emerged from the stone labyrinth to see what's going on. The nobles and the lined-up men here all look as flummoxed as Frisbee Mouth, exchanging wide-eyed glances.
Schultz's face turns pink fast with both embarrassment and fury. "Your Majesty, that is absurd. I have been nearly single-handedly running Isenmere Castle and all of its nuanced affairs for ten years. You cannot simply unappoint me."
"Says who? Them?" I look over at the nearby nobles. They can't see my face thanks to the veil. "Do any of you want to try telling your queen that she can't fire the person she appointed? Or is Big Mouth over here the only one delusional enough to try usurping a royal's authority?"
One noblewoman lets loose a surprised snort at my calling him Big Mouth, but she quickly falls quiet. The others all shake their heads aggressively to agree with me, saying nothing.
"See? Nobody cares," I turn back to Schultz. "Nice hat. You're fired."
Of course, that movie quote goes right over everyone's head, but now the chamberlain is really red. He tries to give me a placating smile, but his anger is still obvious, creating a really bizarre look.
"Queen Reinhilde," he begins again, like he's talking to a child.
A certain look has entered his eyes that sets off subtle alarm bells in my head.
"I know what is causing this. You are most unhappy, which is understandable after you cast out all of your former Favored for no reason.
However, you cannot throw a fit and recklessly toss out your chamberlain just because you are so emotional! "
"Of the two of us, you're the emotional one right now," I point out calmly. "If you're done throwing your fit, pack your things and get lost. I already have a new chamberlain, and they'll need your rooms."
That last part is a lie. I still need to find Merrick and beg him to come back. If he's not interested, I'll still thank him for his help the other day, then look for someone else who can do the job without talking down to me.
Schultz sputters with rage. "But—"
"No buts. We're done here."
"Your Majesty, I—"
"I don't care. Leave."
"How dare you?" he seethes, crab red. "After everything I've endured for you! The Privy Council will not accept—"
My temper finally spikes, turning my voice so sharp that others in this courtyard duck their heads.
"Get the fuck out of my castle."
We've become such a spectacle, everyone watching with bated breath, that no one—not even me—is prepared for how fast Schultz loses it. He snarls and lunges forward, his hands going for my throat.
Before he can wring my neck, the flat of an axe-blade gleams in front of my veiled face. There's a sickening schlick before blood splatters on my veil.
A scent like fermenting pomegranate juice fills the air as one of Schultz's arms flops to the ground.
Several people scream.
Schultz screams, too, clutching his gushing elbow stump. I recoil so fast from the sudden blood and the scent that I nearly fall on my ass.
But the Huntsman steps in front of me. Calm as the clear sky overhead, he reaches back to steady me while holding his bloodied axe ready in his other hand.
Meanwhile, I'm the furthest thing from calm as the chamberlain's blood drips down the front of my veil. I close my eyes for a second, fighting the bile rising up my throat along with this…urge.
My stomach twists hard, but it's not only with disgust.
There's overwhelming thirst, too. My teeth ache, feeling strange again.
Knock it off. You're just hungry.
"That's the Huntsman of the North," someone gasps.
I already thought this guy was terrifying, but he must come with one hell of a reputation, because now the onlookers are in a serious tizzy.
"What are you standing around for?" Schultz chokes. "Guards! Arrest the Huntsman at once!"
The fact that he's overstepping and making orders again snaps me out of this horrible push and pull I'm having with the queen's disturbing appetite.
I move out from behind the Huntsman, speaking loudly. "No. Arrest Schultz."
Look at that, my voice is barely shaking. That's pretty good for someone who's doing her damned best to keep her eyes off the bloody mess.
Not that it helps much when I'm practically wearing it on my fucking face.
I'm not sure if the real queen gave a lot of orders inside her own castle. Luckily, the many guards who have gathered seem taken aback by my assertiveness for only a moment before they quickly surround Schultz.
As he's dragged away, the former chamberlain thrashes and screams like a madman.
"How dare you! You vain, insolent, conniving whore! You are a disgrace to this kingdom—all of Isenmere spits upon your name! May Ayna curse you! May she disfigure your face and crack your mirrors and—"
His voice fades into an echo as he's dragged down a corridor. I'm dying to get out of here, rip off the bloody veil, and breathe in air that doesn't smell like disgusting pomegranate.
But first, I look at another guard still standing nearby. He's as bewildered as everyone else in the aftermath.
"Hey, you."
He startles and drops to one knee in a bow. "Y-yes, my queen?"
"If there's a castle doctor, send them to bandage Schultz's arm. And please get that out of here," I add, flapping my hand vaguely at the ground where I think the arm fell. I'm not about to look down at the damn thing to know for sure.
He obeys at once.
The Huntsman is still standing near me, ignoring the awed and terrified stares of everyone here. If I didn't know better, I'd say his gaze is concerned as he looks me over, as if ensuring I came to no harm in his absence.
Before I can begrudgingly thank him for defending me, a couple of the nobles approach.
"Wonderfully handled, Your Majesty," a noblewoman praises, curtsying.
"I've never liked that Big Mouth," agrees the man, winking like it's our inside joke when that reference doesn't even exist in this world.
He dabs at his forehead with a handkerchief as if he's extremely nervous, but the woman elbows him, so he goes on.
"We're glad enough to see Schultz go, but…
well, what do you think? We're quite anxious for our nephew's potential position, you see. "
He gestures at the group of lined-up men nearby, who quickly go back to staring at the ground.
Oh, fuck. I almost completely forgot that they're here to be perused by the semi-literal man-eating queen.
"Your nephew won't have a position here," I break it to the nobles as nicely as I can.
Their faces fall, but another nobleman is in front of me at once, bowing low.
"If I may, Your Majesty? My young cousin over there in the second row, Kalt, sings quite well, and his friend beside him juggles. Both are entertaining and handsome, and they know how to mind themselves. They would make excellent lovers for you."
"Lovers?" the Huntsman repeats beside me.
His cold gaze narrows on all the nearby men as if he's just barely registering them for the first time.
Are all these nobles seriously here to hawk their male relatives like wares at a flea market, just hoping that will give them a little sway with the monarch? God, I feel so bad for women in my world in the past who were in those guys' same position.
As someone who knows what it's like to be treated as a prize to be acquired and a will to be conquered, this kind of shit makes me sick.
"Starting now, there will be no more Favored," I tell the nobles, looking between each of them. "Zero. Kaput. I'm not looking for lovers to entertain me or new dicks to play with. Spread the word."
They look at me like I just told them the sky is neon green, but I can't take the pomegranate smell lingering in the air anymore. Turning, I walk back up the stairs, eager to get away from the gawking and whispers.
The Huntsman follows, silent and imposing. As soon as we reach the top of the stairs and turn the corner to be out of view, I gag, take off the crown, and toss the stained veil to the ground.
"Okay, never, ever cut off someone's arm right in front of my face like that again. In fact, don't spill blood around me at all. Please. Ugh."
He studies my expression. "Blood bothers you?"
"Very much. Only it's gotten…complicated," I grimace, trying to swallow away the burn in my throat. "I fucking hate gore. Normally, that move you pulled back there would have ruined my appetite, but now I think I might pass out if I don't eat something soon."
His brow furrows, and he reaches toward me. I don't mean to flinch away from him so hard—it's just instinctive after the nightmare that was yesterday.
The Huntsman freezes. Something between guilt and misery crosses his handsome features before he takes a mindful step away to give me space.
His quiet voice is rough. "I will not dare ask forgiveness for the ways I harmed you. My shame is eternal."
He sounds so regretful, I almost believe it.
At least he's not trying to apologize. I don't forgive easily—let alone for something that's dredged all my old trauma back up to the surface for me to slog through all over again.
But even if a part of me is scared shitless of this guy, sending him away might not be the best thing when I clearly need all the people in my corner that I can get. Now that this guy isn't trying to kill me, I may as well ask him about Snow White.
More pomegranate smell invades my nostrils. I hear a quiet drip and notice blood is slowly rolling down the Huntsman's axe hanging at his side. My vision sways slightly, mouth watering.
Ignore it. Schultz probably tastes like the shit he's full of, anyway.