Chapter 39
Thirty-Nine
A good little slut doesn't tell someone to hurry the fuck up.
But come on. Seriously!
- Arienna
The vote is in.
My body humming, I shift from foot to foot inside the Purple Ballroom.
The luxurious, wide-open space is packed with nobles and commoners alike.
A tense, hesitant energy wraps around the room as we all wait for Richard to arrive so the announcer can open the purple envelope that’s been laid upon her podium.
The door to the hall opens, and Richard walks in, his hair wet from a recent shower.
Wherever he’s been all day, it seems to have taken a toll on him.
His shoulders are stiff. His eyes don’t find mine.
There’s a darkness moving inside him that has locked me out, and I wonder if it’s because I once called him a monster.
I’ve since apologised, but does he think that’s how I really feel?
I want to tell him that I can share his burdens, that I want to help carry that crushing weight, but his eyes are on the announcer.
He stops beside me. I grab his hand. His fingers are loose in mine. My heart hammering, I look at him, but he doesn’t look at me.
Lifting the envelope, the woman at the podium says, “The people have voted.”
My hand tightens on my king as she tears at the sealed wax. The card inside is pulled out.
“Seventy-three to thirty-seven percent…”
I want to ask her to please speak faster.
“Raza has decided…”
Richard’s wings shift ever so slightly. I squeeze his hand hard, demanding his attention. He ignores me for a split second before looking over. I smile at him, and his dark eyes soften. We’ve got this. Whatever happens, we will handle it together.
“To be a monarchy!”
And just like that, all softness in him vanishes.
Jerking his hand away, he steps towards the podium. I go to follow, but Jace shifts in front of me. As does Echo, and there’s a terrible presence now in the hall. Dangerous and volatile.
“Get her out of here,” Richard snaps as he takes the stage.
“I don’t want –”
“It’s safer for him if you leave,” Jace says as he hurries me towards a side door. Fabia and Nicholas follow us.
“There’ll be a different vote in a month’s time,” my king says, his voice booming across the room. “We will keep the monarchy, but you all will –”
“No! I’d rather live under tyranny!”
“I don’t want to keep up with politics!”
“It’s boring!”
“Death to the monarchy!” someone shouts, and dozens of people rush the stage, armed with knives, swords, and other weapons.
Confusion floods me as my legs lock with fear.
Everyone should’ve been frisked before they entered, but the mystery is solved when a third of the guards turn on their comrades.
One of the guards at the door must’ve let them in.
As Jace drags me along, I try to turn back for my king. The last time I was rushed to safety, Saragese died. I can’t be the reason someone else I care about meets a horrible end.
“Richard!” I shout.
Jace grunts as a guard attacks him from the side.
Fabia is busy protecting Nicholas. Echo is laying unmoving on the ground, bleeding out from a hole in her head.
Refusing to release me, Jace fights with one hand, his sword singing as he parries.
He shoves me around, forcing me to go where he needs me to so he can protect us.
I stumble, trying to predict where he wants me, trying to help, but I have no idea what I’m doing.
His sword slices through the chest of his opponent, but three more instantly take the guard’s place.
As he’s forced to release me, I look around for my own weapon.
I scramble for the sword of our dead attacker, but I trip over my feet and fall to the ground.
I roll to stand back up, only to trip again.
This time, I scramble on my hands and knees.
I grab the sword and spin to my feet, but bloody hel is it heavy.
As I try to lift it, I’m thrown off balance, and I careen sideways, the blade swinging with a mind of its own.
Someone screams as it slides across their leg.
“I’m so sorry!” I shout as I try to regain my balance. But Jace whacks the sword out of my grasp, then grabs my hand and rushes me for the door.
“I can help!” I try to explain, but he doesn’t slow at all. His sword swings with terrifying precision as he cuts us a path to safety.
But how can anywhere be safe when I’m leaving my king behind?
“Please don’t make me go,” I beg. Everyone I love is here.
“Arienna, you have to!” Fabia shouts as she fights off the people attacking us from behind.
“But –”
“Go with Nicholas!”
He grabs my other hand, his scarred face tight. But I can see the similar pain, the self-hatred that what’s best for them is for us to get to safety so they can concentrate on themselves.
Tears in my eyes, I run.
And I pray that later, I’m greeted by my king rather than by the news of his death.