Chapter 44
Chapter Forty-Four
Tuscany
Fear presses on my lungs.
I knew it!
I knew it was him!
The embers of defensiveness spark through me, provoking me to my feet.
I walk to the edge of the cage and grip the bars.
“What do you think you're doing? Release us!” I have to act innocent and irate.
Have to turn my fear into flames. I force myself into the posture of strength I always need around him—shoulders back, chin raised, lungs filling with measured breaths—trying to become the adult I'm not sure I am.
Gasp for air.
Run, Tuscany.
Hide, Tuscany.
I don’t listen to my little self.
Cairo stops in front of us, lowering his purple cloak to his shoulders, exposing an angular face, short dark hair, and bright, soulless eyes.
He stands less than an arm’s length away.
If I reach through the bars, I could carve lines down his face with my nails.
I don’t know where that thought came from.
I’m not a violent person. Vicious thoughts rarely pass through my mind, at least not ones that involve others.
Inner violence, yes—to draw the pain from inside and make it real, visible and tangible, yes. But I don’t often want to hurt others.
I want to kill him.
“Hm,” he muses, eyes drinking us both in as if we’re murky water—distasteful to behold. “You almost sounded like a queen.”
I clench my teeth. “I am the queen!”
“Are you?” Cairo’s sharp gaze moves from Kong to me and back again with such flat apathy, my insides twist. He doesn’t feel—I am in the presence of true calculated evil.
A malevolent being capable of sucking the life out of every room it inhabits.
“What are you doing here, my queen?” he taunts.
“It isn't safe.” His secret smile rests on his lips. “I told you as much.”
I talk through a locked jaw, mouth barely moving as I say, “I came to see the children.”
“Not to delve into Trade matters?”
“To speak with my people.” I hold his gaze but have no idea how I manage it. “Now, release us. Immediately!”
He applauds, each lazy clap landing like a slap to my cheek. “Very queenly. Such a commanding presence.” He takes a step closer. “Now, remind me of your vows?” His voice is smooth and cruel. “I will take no man? You stopped being Queen of The Cradle the moment you spread your thighs, Tuscany.”
I gasp at the sound of my name falling from his lips.
He has never called me by my name. My mouth opens and lolls, nothing forming on my tongue.
I feel Kong behind me, heat and strength, but know that I have to play the part of queen.
Kong is a Guardian. He has no place to converse with the Trade Master, not when I am here.
“You look rather shocked. Let me remind you. You took a secret exit and joined a banquet dressed as a Common House Girl. You spread your thighs in front of a room full of men and screamed your release for all to hear. Sound familiar?”
The room tilts, but I grip the bars harder, unwilling to allow his words, his voice, his presence to unravel or shrink me. “Who told you such lies?”
“Brook.”
No. Brook? Why? I’m not good at deceit, only at being defensive. “Who do you think you're speaking to! My brother will not—"
“Don’t interrupt me!” he booms, making me flinch. He has never raised his voice to me before. I’ve never heard his voice raised…
What does that mean?
“Sire has no authority in Trade matters such as this. And a queen who breaks her vows.” He tsks. “That's not something The Trade takes lightly.”
I step backward into Kong, shaking my head back and forth, feeling the walls of my reality crumbling away. “I didn’t…”
“We spent a decade on you. This is how you treat the citizen’s symbol of purity?”
“You're a fool,” Kong barks, rabid, an animal backed into a corner, yet his gruff voice is more soothing than the acidic smoothness of the Trade Master’s.
Cairo’s gaze lifts over my head, his eyes narrowing on the massive man behind me. “Am I, Kong The Unbreakable? Am I a fool?”
“You’re wrong. Again.” Kong sweeps me aside, pushing me out of the way, putting up a pretence of callousness while also tucking me behind him.
He is filling the space between the Trade Master and me.
“The queen was interested in what was happening at the banquet. Why I wasn’t outside her room as she commanded me to be.
She didn’t know what to expect, and I can tell you she didn’t want it, because I had to hold her thighs open to eat her out.
I forced her. I am rather sick of being offered so little for my Purpose. I took what I believed I deserved.”
I hate everything he said, simplifying and objectifying what we have. Though I know he’s lying, hearing that hurt.
Cairo’s brow lifts to form a dubious arch. “Did you?” He clasps his hands at his centre. “You forced your tongue inside her?”
“She has been in love with me since she was a child. I took the opportunity.”
“And you have been in love with her for almost as long.” He sighs.
“Or did I imagine the day you stormed into my chamber and threatened me? You’re a good liar, Kong, but I know you.
So honourable. Too honourable. Still, I’ll humour your little act.
” Cairo peers past Kong, meeting my broken gaze.
“Is this true, my queen? Did your Guardian force you to orgasm on that table?”
I don’t want to say it, but I swore I would. My heart shatters in my chest, making each breath jagged and hard.
I shuffle backward.
“You can tell me, my queen,” Cairo insists playfully. “If this man has touched The Queen of The Cradle without permission, I need to know.”
This lie feels like a knife plunging into my heart, each moment I allow it to endure, it stabs. Stabs. Hard. Harder. I press my back to the icy wall, crushing myself against it, and nod my head—only once. Stab.
“A nod?” Cairo mocks. “Too traumatised by being defiled to speak?”
He hums and stares at me, unmoving. “You know what makes me such a proficient Trade Master? I can see humanity. I see it in the eyes of the Royal Collective. You. Rome. Bled. Essen. Humanity is weak. We have been trying to eliminate it for centuries. Have you heard the old-world quote? 'Don’t blame humanity for being weak, it’s still growing up?
'” His stare needles at my resolve. “Humanity grew up, Tuscany. Grew into the Xin De. You represent something. A near-pure Xin De queen. Why am I the only one who seems to care?”
Cairo waves his hand dismissively. “Very well.” Feet thunder down the steps with purpose and declaration. Two Trade men with the fist sigil on their crests cross in front of Cairo to unlock the cage, while another man stands back with a rifle pointed at Kong.
“Kong the Unbreakable,” Cairo begins, performing as always. “You are under arrest in the name of Rome of The Strait, The Cradle’s Monarch and Protector. Take him.”
A deafening shot resounds, bouncing around the cellar, making the concrete ring.
Kong grunts and stumbles backward. No! Tears bubble over my vision. Shot somewhere, he loses balance and almost crushes me into the wall, but his hand darts out to catch his weight on the wall above my head. He leans down to my ear, inhaling deeply, and rasps, “Stay strong for me, little queen.”
Then my dark knight is dragged away from me, his warmth dissolving.
I scream—I scream at them with every punch of air in my lungs. “Where are you taking him? Kong! Kong!”
I rush back to the edge of the cage, grabbing hold of the bars. My vision blurs behind tears that come without warning or will. Not that it matters. The Trade Master meanders slowly behind his men, gait casual, through the door beside our cage and shuts it.
He's gone.
I squeeze the bars, imagining the strength of a warrior, bending the steel columns, no, shattering them.
I vibrate with intense grief; surely this power inside me is capable of bending these bars. It is so incredibly potent, I can’t imagine a pain more vivid, more vicious, more capable of warping metal.
But the metal doesn’t bend or shatter.
I do. Sliding to the ground, my sorrow becomes so large, I can no longer stand with it inside me. This loss, this fear for his life, feels capable of tearing me apart from the inside out—capable of killing me.
I stare at the door he was dragged through.
It looks solid, soundproof. A whimper claws up my throat while my mind torments me with images, dark, nightmarish images of what might happen behind that door.
Blood. So much blood. My Kong… Oh, I can’t.
Make it stop, make it go away. Would Cairo execute him without a trial?
Is he torturing him? Or are we just separated?
Where was he shot?
I can’t remember whether he gripped his shoulder or torso or…
Where was it? I retreat into my mind, into a fictional retelling of the events that just took place.
This time, I am brave and watchful. I see the bullet enter his, um, shoulder.
Straight through. No major arteries were caught in its brutal path through skin and flesh. He is fine.
He is fine.
He is fine.
I don’t know how much time passes as I relive that moment, changing little details, while staring at the citrine sun charm around my wrist.
In one recount, I lunge for Cairo and strip his cheeks with my nails. My perfect, flawless, marble nails. Yes! I use them to carve a Trade Master.
“Are you hungry?”
I bounce to my feet and stare at Master Cairo. “Where is Kong? Is he alive?” Peering past him, I see that the door is open. There is a short corridor. The wall I can see from here is bare, so the opposite one must have doors.
“Kong forced you?” He nods. “We can use that. Keep up the charade, especially because your hymen may be torn.” Gracefully, he walks to the cage and uses a key, initiating the bolts to slide across. He swings the door open, saying, “Come.”
Is he serious?
I could run. Could hurt him. Could… Would; but what about Kong? I have to save him.