Chapter 7
Chapter
Seven
Titus
The shock of the attack digs into me as a splinter dives under the nail.
Everett’s time-waving magic wants to keep me alive—to be a pair of tweezers that plucks out the annoyance; it’s like having an overprotective parent hovering over you.
Time slows now. I’m a lucky bastard because it’s only me in the time bubble again. My secret is still safe. Noise turns into a distant hum.
Is this arrow intended for Galen or me?
Is our queen an assassin?
With each breath I take, the arrow draws closer. I’m unsure how long the time-weaving will last. I take a fighting stance. I raise the sword that Galen gifted me.
The crowd reacts. The bubble begins to crack!
Oh shit! They see me raising my sword next to their king.
See the arrow!
Good, Galen spots it.
Snap! The bubble breaks right as I swing down, slicing the arrow in half. I lock eyes with the assassin. She’s already moving.
Screams erupt, guards shout. The hard stone floor collides with my chest as I’m tackled.
My fire magic roars against the assault. It slips into my palms, but two guards stomp on my hands. Pain explodes over my knuckles as three fingers break. The blood I just drank heals them.
“Stop!” Galen roars. “He saved me, you fool! Did you not see him cleave the arrow in two?”
Panic erupts. I’m used to shouts and chaos. My coiled muscles relax. My fire seeps back into my fingers.
“Bloody fucking heavens!” King Galen shouts.
Soldiers file into the party. My lips part, ready to confess. I slam my mouth shut. I don’t have solid facts. An accusation could cost me my life.
If Galen believes me, he’d have to kill the queen.
I need her to help me.
It may have been her twin.
Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!
Galen regards me, chin held high. That crown on his head makes me take a step back. “Did you see who it was?” he questions with an authority that makes me feel like a young boy again.
The intensity of the glare his eyes hold is hotter than the very flames I can produce. His question is a multi-faceted game, and depending on my answer, I’ll be granted life, death, or a chance to play again.
Shit! He knows it was the queen. He tilts his head as he places his palm on his sword. Answering him with the truth feels more dangerous than the arrow that was aimed at us.
Galen knows that Selene was trying to take my life.
Which means he could have stopped it. But he didn’t. Why?
I shake my head. “No, my king.”
His scowl sharpens. It practically scrapes across my neck. “I will deal with her,” he mutters. A slight nod is the only apology I get.
My gulp gives away my youth. Galen is a seasoned tree; he knows how to weather storms. I am just a sapling.
“Search the grounds for the assassin. They likely headed to the main gates,” King Galen orders the soldiers on duty. “I owe General Titus my sincerest apology. I heard whispers that the fae nobles were seeking the death of my warrior.”
Everett’s dying face flashes through my mind.
“I hoped these nobles would act with dignity, but emotions are still running high.” King Galen makes a show of shaking his head.
My neck stiffens. I watch Galen weave a lie to excuse his wife, who wants me dead.
I glance at Tristen; if anyone looked at the angle of his feet, they would see he is ready to defend me, not King Galen.
Galen places a hand on my shoulder. That’s a hard grip. “I will deal with them.” His hold grows to bone-crushing strength before he drops his arm. “I am happy my beautiful wife did not bear witness to what her people did. Nobles whom I have allowed to live and dine in my court.”
Shouts of anger bounce off the chandeliers.
He continues, “I know their actions would embarrass her deeply. Queen Selene, like me, just wants peace.”
I doubt that.
“My lands will be safe for everyone. A place children can grow, laugh, and play without the fear of an invasion.” More cheers.
“Know this, I will have peace! I will punish anyone who dares to attack us.” His hand rests on the hilt of his blade, not with rage; no, he sweeps his fingers over it with glee.
Then, Galen’s gaze meets mine. “Come with me.”
Stay away! I shake my head at Tristen. Fellow warriors clap my back and promise vengeance for the crime against me.
King Galen and I, along with a dozen men, exit the hall and make our way through the castle. “General Harold,” the king thunders, “find Princess Sable. Bring her to the dungeons.”
“The dungeons?”
“Did I stutter?”
“No, my king.” Harold nods and rushes off.
“What of the queen? Should I go find her?” a soldier whose name I do not know asks.
It will cost him. He wants the queen to suffer in a way some vile men think.
Galen moves fluidly. A sharp intake of breath cuts through the air. Galen plunges his sword into the soldier’s heart.
Some smile, and others, like me, carefully school their features.
Galen holds his sword there. We wait until death claims him.
“The price for questioning me,” Galen states. He treats men as mere food he can toss aside. “Hold him,” he orders the two closest soldiers.
Galen steps back, pulls his sword out, then wipes it clean on the soldier’s shoulder.
In the end, that’s what we are to King Galen. Nothing.
Every victory I had in battle, not counting Everett’s death, is now sour. A nightmare that will haunt me.
“Get rid of him. If anyone asks, he was conspiring with the fae nobles.”
I don’t know how my feet move. Somehow they do. Eventually, we reach the end of the hall.
“Stay here,” Galen orders the men. He pushes a stone. The wall groans like an elderly human whom sleep has yet to claim. They must endure another long, cold, lonely morning full of aches and pains.
The wall slides open, revealing a long, dark hallway.
Galen breezes inside. “Come, Titus.”
I follow, unsure whether I’m heading to my death. But as Everett said, I’m a soldier. I don’t run from what scares me.
Galen’s fuming exhales echo off the hall. He pauses and presses another spot on the wall. This time, a large room is revealed. A fire crackles, and the scent of parchment, ink, and cedar fills the air. The only light is from the fire.
There are no windows to escape through. No one can see or hear what he will do to me.
It’s clearly his office, lined with bookshelves and a large round desk with maps and notes. “You may sit,” Galen grunts.
The fire in my veins itches to be set free. It senses a threat. I grab the chair and lower myself into it, but my ass remains on the edge.
I killed a prince. Will I have to kill a king in order to survive?
I would do so in order to reunite with my family. And to protect Everett’s magic. I will not let his death be wasted.
Galen joins me with a bottle of amber liquid. His chair is a pair of warm hands he sinks into. His mouth tightens like wood submerged in icy waters, the corners cracking and splintering. He covers his fury with his cup as he swallows.
He tips his head back, exposing his neck to me as he drinks.
You’re a stupid man. Maybe I’m the foolish one for thinking I can kill a king.
His gulp is thunderous; his hand moves like lightning, offering me the bottle. I grab it by the neck and drink. Each swallow is forced.
Galen rests his elbow on the arm of his chair as he rubs his temple. “My wife wants you dead,” he states matter-of-factly. His tone makes me feel like a tree whose branches hinder the walker on a pathway. Galen likes the tree for the shade it provides—I won the war for him.
I’m his trophy. Selene wants me cut down.
“That’s unfortunate,” I respond. He has to protect his wife, so I make sure he can. “The killer had a sure aim. I’m sure the queen’s hands are too delicate to pull a bow back with such force.”
Galen's voice turns into a ghost’s whisper. “Even tiny spiders can create remarkably intricate webs, Titus.” He coughs and speaks loudly. “You’re clever.” Galen leans back, but his eyes seem to inch forward, attempting to peel me open. “Is that how you killed her brother?”
This is a fight, make no mistake. King Galen is testing me.
“To be honest, it was luck. Everett was highly skilled, but exhaustion weakens us all in the end.”
He reaches for his crown and rubs it.
Like all vampires, Galen has elemental magic. His comes in the form of thorny vines that can lash out and cut through flesh as it grabs bone and snaps it in half.
If Galen knew I possessed magic from a fae, he’d never let me taste my next breath. It’s already bad enough that I killed the prince and not him. But Galen would need to be on the battlefield, not tucked away in his castle.
His hand slips to conceal his mouth. “Why don’t you lie to me? Embellish your story. You could have spun an elaborate tale of how weak the prince was and the pleasure you took in killing him.”
Men who don’t kill with their own hands take pleasure in it.
Soldiers don’t.
“It’s a crime to lie to you.” Don’t flinch. That’s right, stay humble and still.
“Yet it happens every day.” He props his head on his hand. His index finger traces the curve of his cheek. “Sometimes, I let crimes go unpunished. I assure you, this one will not be ignored.”
“May I speak freely?”
He nods.
“I expect nothing less of the queen. I killed her brother. She wants my blood.”
“Do you think she is owed it?”
“I’d rather she not. I did as my king commanded. I fought. It didn’t matter if it was a prince in my way or a random soldier. They raised a sword against you.”
“If only all my men were like you,” he sighs.
If all your men were like me, you’d be dead.
“I can leave tonight,” I offer. “Return to the border and keep watch. I don’t want to cause unrest for the queen.”
Maybe I can find another fae to help me.
“Leave?” He sits up straighter. “You’re not leaving, Titus. If I bow down to her tantrums, I’ll never be able to control her.”
A man should not seek to control his wife. No wonder their marriage is so fucked up.
I avoid his face. This was what I fought for! Seeing it up close sickens me.
A more startling fact is that Galen isn’t the worst king out there. He makes sure his people are fed, housed, and clothed. He gives humans a house and a job, making them feel dignified, so they want to donate their blood in return.
“Selene would take pleasure in a spanking. I must resort to other forms of punishment.”
Now I’m picturing her over my knee, my hand coming down on her, with only that red silk dress as a barrier.
“You’re staying.” Galen’s words wash away the fantasy. “You will be her personal guard.”
I shift forward, almost falling off the chair. I grab the chair’s arms tightly, too tightly! The wood starts to smoke under my fingers. “Pardon?” I bark. I force my magic to withdraw.
Galen raises a shocked brow. He spots his ruined chair.
“I mean, It’s an honor I surely do not deserve,” I hurry to say.
Everett, did you foresee this?
“You look ill.” Galen’s laugh slaps the shock off my face.
I am.
I’m just beginning to see how far ahead Everett has plotted.
You should look skittish, too, Galen.
“I do apologize, but this is the best course of action. Once I see that Selene has learned her lesson, you may have Everly Castle.”
“Everly Castle?” I don’t want a castle.
Galen nods. “I’ll give you four hundred men to live on the land and guard the border, of course.”
In other words, I’ll oversee Everly Castle’s conversion into a guard station.
I dip my chin. “What if she tries to kill me?”
He snickers, “Oh, she will, but I will kill the fae nobles tonight; that should make her think twice. Still, I’d watch your back. If she tries anything, let me know. Selene needs to learn that if she kicks and screams, she will not get her way.”
How do I defend myself? Do I raise a hand to my queen?
His gift is a death sentence.
This is how a king thanks the hero who holds the public’s praise. Kings are only kings when the attention is solely on them. If too many eyes look away, he’s just a man with a pretty crown that means absolutely nothing.