Eighteen
It is illegal to commit suicide. Those who break this law will be resurrected into servitude.
People should be able to choose when they die.
- King Richard
The soup served for the first course of dinner, a carrot and squash blend, doesn’t look anywhere near as tasty as my wife. As I sit at the other end of the table to her, I watch her giggle over something said by Warress Anne Fahy – a fairy well-known for her appetite.
My eyes on them, I barely register the chef coming out with the servers. A bowl is placed in front of me. A royal tester reaches forwards with a spoon. Resisting the urge to drag Arienna’s chair over here, away from Fahy, with her flirtatious smile and soft, gentle touches, I shift in my seat.
Fabia stands somewhere behind me – the only guard on my end, something Jace protested given he knows someone in the Court is trying to kill me again. But I wasn’t about to leave my wife without adequate protection when she has to be on the other side of the fucking room.
Besides, if the Court does manage to kill me, I want Jace to be forced to protect my queen rather than save me. I need him to help her navigate Raza in my absence and to kill the Court and anyone else who tries to manipulate her.
Fuck.
This vote cannot come soon enough.
As my tester steps back, so does Arienna’s.
Then the rest of the nobles are served, and we begin to eat.
I converse with those around me, gathering their favour and continued support.
Warress Dumbass – Dumaus wants assurances that the peace treaty won’t impact her profits given she supplies our armies with combat wands.
She has factories all across Gaera, bringing in more money than she knows what to do with, and yet, she’s still worried about the small amount she will lose from us.
If corporate tax wasn’t at ninety percent, I wouldn’t be able to resist stabbing her in her greedy face.
She’s constantly tying up our courts for her personal gain, wasting our taxes by trying to reduce current worker condition laws.
She benefits hugely from the trade deals we have with other kingdoms – something that commoners do not benefit from much at all on a personal level, and yet, she still has the eggs to claim she’s self-made.
That is an entire history of progression she’s dismissing, and frankly, she just pisses me off.
Smiling at her as I think about splitting her from neck to navel, I assure her that any dips in her profits will be topped up by the Royal Treasury for the first year after each treaty is signed.
When she haggles for longer, I bite my tongue and make a mental note to check on her factories.
Given how defensive she turned once my queen suggested visiting them, I hope I find something to hang the bitch.
When the soup bowls are cleared away and plates of Harean snake are placed down as the next course, I turn my attention to Commandress Bolaire.
Tomorrow, she’s flying south to help fight against the Alzans.
They’ve been pushing into our territory these past three weeks, thinking they’ve been forcing us back.
In truth, I ordered our army to lure them all the way back to Evrytre.
There, we will surround them on all sides and slaughter them without mercy.
We’ve lost a lot of women already though, so if this plan falls through…
At least they’ll vote me off the throne.
“How is your new bow?” I ask Bolaire. I gave it to her six weeks ago when I made her a commandress. It has been spelled to not need a quiver, forming the perfect arrow out of thin air (though really, the magic pulls it from a tree the witch marked with her spell).
Originally one of sixteen children, Bolaire has lost more family than anyone I know.
Like her mother, she has given birth to all her children (nine so far; only three still alive) on the battlefield.
The last one was born four months ago, and she did it while fighting off five Okahi so her wounded women could get to safety.
When we recovered the land we were chased from, we didn’t expect to find her alive.
We sure as hel didn’t expect her to be nursing a newborn.
And we most definitely didn’t fucking expect her to be stabbing her broken sword into the shimmery turquoise exoskeleton of yet another Okahi at the same time.
She wanted to rejoin us in pushing the beetle-like army back even further, but I ordered her home. Then gifted her a magical bow, along with the title of commandress.
A confliction of emotions pass her face. “I keep reaching for an arrow, so end up nocking two.”
“Try not taking a quiver,” Commandress Lavayo teases from beside her. She scoops up a forkful of fried snake meat and vegetables.
“Just because my bow no longer requires one,” Bolaire says, “doesn’t mean I shouldn’t carry extra ammunition for those around me.”
Lavayo waves her hand. “Archers have swords to use once their quivers run dry. It’d be better to carry a backpack of supplies.”
“Arrows trump swords when fighting the Alzans. They’re faster than us, so it’s better if we kill them before they reach us. Plus, a hail of arrows can pin their tails to the ground so we can go in for the kill.”
A burst of laughter, loud and genuine, pulls my attention to the other end of the table. My eyes narrow as Arienna laughs at something Fahy said. The woman is smart and funny, and she has her fucking hand on my queen’s arm. Stabbing at my plate, I skewer a piece of snake.
Arienna’s eyes are lit up – so carefree and pure and so different to the calculated emotions of everyone else here.
She pulls her arm out from under Fahy’s hand so she can reach for her glass of juice.
She drinks it as she smiles. My eyes lift to Jace behind her.
He smirks at me. I glare at him for not having killed Fahy already.
My gaze dropping back to my wife, I still when I see her looking at me. Her smile grows more radiant – as if that’s even fucking possible.
A wicked gleam in her eyes, she licks her lips nice and slow.
My cock hardens.
Fahy practically drools beside her, and I decide here and now that she is getting shipped off to the front lines first thing tomorrow – Fuck that. Tonight.
Ignoring her fork and the woman beside her, my queen dips two fingers into the sauce on her plate and then licks them clean. A smile curling my lips, I raise my hand and hold up two fingers. Then a third.
You’ve just earned yourself another punishment.
Emboldened by the distance between us, she mimics my gesture. Raising her hand to her mouth, my naughty queen flicks her tongue between the two Vs of her fingers.
I hold up five, and she drops her hand quickly. Her head swings back to Fahy. Her glass of juice shakes as she places it on the table. Seeing that, knowing that I’m the only one who makes her nervous, the knot of jealousy in my stomach eases.
Turning back to the women around me, I partake again in the conversation. But the only words I really hear are those three words she said to me.
Better than I love you.
“We’re monopolists, remember?”
When dessert is brought out an hour later, my tester once again steps forwards.
He cuts off a small bit of the honey-glazed yam, then brings it to his lips.
As he chews, I look towards the middle of the table.
The twelve Court members are all seated together, and I take note of who’s conversing with who.
Petre might be a snake, but her focus at the meeting was in getting Arienna up-to-speed on the new law rather than dismissing her as a future puppet.
Either Coo or Tanya are the ones I suspect the most. Tanya’s last attempt on my life was only a few days ago, and she much prefers to get other people to do her dirty work for her – like she did when she sent her nieces to try to kill me on my wedding day.
Coo, however, isn’t this bold. I’ve never traced a single attack back to her.
Then again, I never threatened her life like I’m doing now with this new law.
At the sudden cough on my left, my gaze breaks away from the Dragons of Kholar.
My tester, a man – boy, really, whacks at his chest, his grey eyes wide.
Beside him, the chef’s mouth falls open; turning, he tries to flee, but Fabia grabs him and whips out her knife.
Without any hesitation, she stabs him in the chest. Rule one of the Royal Guard: strike first, resurrect if necessary.
The chef gasps as he slouches against her.
Arienna shoots to her feet, only to be pulled back behind Jace.
The guards standing at attention along the walls rush forwards.
They stand ominously behind the nobles as I wonder which one of them tried to poison me.
No one will be leaving this place until the person responsible is found.
The chefs never work alone; they’re merely the hand someone uses for their dirty work.
My eyes find Tanya, wondering if she looks annoyed that her latest attempt on me failed. But there’s nothing in her eyes but judgment for whatever idiot tried to poison me given all my food is tested first.
My tester groans as he drops his hands to the table. His eyes on the chef, they water with accusation.
The chef groans in pain, blood gurgling up his lips. His pierced lung seems to be filling with blood.
With a shaky hand, my tester reaches up and whacks at his chest once more, as if he hopes he can save himself with such a simple motion.
What a fool.
He is just a boy...
Wheezing, he turns to me.
He opens and closes his mouth a couple of times.
I hold his gaze, owing him at least that.
But his grey eyes aren’t glazed like I expected them to be. They’re teary and wet but not afraid. “Wrong... pipe.” He coughs. “I’m so… sorry.”
Everyone’s eyes fly to him. I search him for any sign of a lie. But his coughs are weakening, and the blush on his cheeks looks to be more from embarrassment rather than sudden fever. Tears falling, he turns back to the chef.
“Dad.” He coughs once more, his face twisting in pain.
“Oh my gods,” Arienna says. Her tester stands beside her bowl, completely fine, a used spoon in his hand.
Turning my head, I lock eyes with the closest server, then nod at my bowl. He steps forwards slowly, and with a new spoon, he takes a bite of my yam.
A moment of silence descends, heavy and thick.
I watch him for any signs of poison as the chef groans in pain.
Nothing.
Accepting that my tester is telling the truth, I turn to his dad. Fabia’s knife is still inside him, plunged to the hilt. She has nicked his heart, no doubt, so once she pulls it out, he will bleed to death faster than his regenerative powers can save him.
“Do you wish to be resurrected?” I ask him.
“Please,” his son cries, but I ignore him, my eyes on the chef.
He shakes his head weakly. “But, Son… I want you to know…” He looks at his boy, his life waning. “You’re… a… little shit.”
My lips tight, I nod as the boy chokes again, this time on his sobs. “Let him die, Fabia.”
Her hand shaking, she pulls her knife free. I study her, wondering if this is all too much for her – taking a life that meant no harm.
She lowers the chef to the ground as he dies. She keeps her eyes on his for way too long. I could’ve been stabbed twelve times by the time she rises to her feet – something I’m certain Jace will discipline her for later.
As some guards step forwards to take away the chef and his son, I pick up my spoon and start to eat. Jace guides Arienna back into her chair. The nobles don’t hesitate to eat their own desserts. Conversation flows freely.
“Well, that was a shitty first day for him,” someone says.
“The tester?”
“Mmm. My son caught him practicing this morning. He was all excited to have been given the honour. I reckon that is gone now.”
As those around me continue to chat, my eyes stay on my queen. Her bowl sits untouched. If every sight of blood is going to cause her to stop eating, she’ll wither away into nothing but bones.
A gentleman would let her go.
There’s no need. I won’t be king soon, and we can leave this place.
Looking at Jace, I nod at my wife. He leans down and whispers something in her ear. Ever so slowly, she picks up her spoon. Her eyes rise to mine, then she smiles at me.
“I will be the joy you need me to be.” I can almost hear her words as she starts up another conversation with Fahy. She laughs. She blushes. She seemingly has no weight on her shoulders. But I shift uncomfortably, wondering if I will be what kills her in the end.
Asking her to smile while she breaks inside.
Leaving her feeling all alone.
Suffocating her with my expectations.
All I want is for her to be happy, but I don’t know how to help her achieve that in this fucked-up world.
Needing to be closer to her, I finish my dessert quickly, then stand.
Everyone else follows suit. Whether or not they have finished yet, the meal is over, and they move to leave.
The servants open the various doors, leading to different parts of the castle.
Arienna looks over at me as I approach. Then she looks behind me, making sure her friend is okay.
“Fabia?” she asks as she stands.
“I’m fine.” Short and clipped – a lie. She really needs to get better at that. She might not be as bad as Arienna, but she needs to be good enough to fool our enemies.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
Making a note to tell Jace to give Fabia some lessons, I turn to Warress Fahy, who’s still standing by my fucking wife.
“You are needed in Evrytre. The Alzans are pushing hard, and we need reinforcements there if we are to ambush them without losing a great deal of our own. You will leave tonight with Commandress Bolaire.”
Her brown eyes shine. “I thought Bolaire was leaving tomorrow?”
“The situation has turned more dire,” I lie, straight-faced.
She nods, but there is humour in her eyes. “Of course, Your Majesty.” She bows at Arienna. “Your Majesty, it was a pleasure eating with you today.”
Her smile fills her pretty pink eyes. “Aw, I enjoyed it too. We’ll have to do it again sometime.”
Fahy glances at me with a knowing smirk. “Yes. Perhaps all three of us could share a meal. I hear you’ve acquired a taste for sharing, Your Majesty.”
With that, she slips through the crowd, well outside of stabbing distance. My eyes narrow on Jace as my queen giggles.
“Don’t look at me,” he says, holding up his hands. “Your wife has no filter.”
Cupping her face, I rub my thumb across her bottom lip. Her eyes heat as dark as mine. Staring into them, I murmur, “Then I guess it’s time I fill this pretty little mouth.”