Chapter Six #3
He started to curl his lip before thinking better of it.
“An assassin stalks you, my lady, and without experienced protectors, you could end up just as dead as that centaur.” Which he’d be delighted to provide while doubtless attempting to seduce me.
Judging by the excitement and lust surging under his carefully professional mask, I suspected his end goal wasn’t just sex, but the power he’d find if he could make me fall in love with him.
The idiot either didn’t know who my mother was or was too stupid to realize the implications.
“The prince turns into an eight-foot werewolf,” I told him coldly. “He’s more than able to protect me against anything I can’t handle alone.”
“But he is not fully Sidhe. He is… lupine.”
I narrowed my eyes into an icy glare. “I beg your pardon? That is your king’s heir you’re speaking of. What are you?”
He drew himself up. “I have the honor of being the son of Lord Cyran Ruadháin. Our lands stretch from the river Egrat to Asban.”
“Ah. Then a spare to your father’s heir.”
He looked so offended I knew I’d hit the nail on the head. “Third, actually, but there’s more than enough wealth and power for all of us.”
“I don’t care. I have a far more powerful bodyguard I trust a lot more than a nobleman’s son too arrogant -- or stupid -- to know when he’s on thin ice.”
As my anger grew, the power I’d felt beneath my feet whirled up, responding to my irritation. Realizing I needed to calm down before I accidently killed the fool, I began to take slow, deep breaths.
Proving he was fully as moronic as I thought, Ruadháin continued, “Prince Dearg is, of course, renowned as a duelist and spymaster, but you deserve guards of bloodlines better suited to your high position as Maeve’s granddaughter.”
Now I was pissed. “He’s a prince, you insubordinate ass.
What’s more, he’s the Heir to Heroes and Cachamwri’s Blade, a man who’s been risking his life for this kingdom while you’ve been preying on pretty villagers.
” I could almost taste the rapist in him, and it made me want to kill the sick little fuck.
Going by the naked shock on his face, I’d nailed it. “I… No, I would never --”
“Shut. Up. The king should have issued you a sense of self-preservation to go with that pretty uniform.”
Ruadháin’s shock dissolved into anger, and like the narcissist he was, he went on the attack. “You can’t have failed to notice the dog’s --”
My anger exploded, power boiling right behind it. “Oh, that’s it. You need a long overdue lesson in respect!”
* * *
Dearg
I was strolling down the corridor with my parents toward the garden entrance when an explosion of magic shook the ground beneath our feet. I swore and leaped into a run, my parents right behind me. “How in the Egg’s name did the assassin get through the wards?”
We burst through the door into the garden, where we slid to a stop, shocked.
As the rest of the guards huddled looking terrified, Iona held Lt.
Lorcán Ruadháin pinned against a statue of Maeve, one hand clamped so hard around his neck, his gorget had crumpled.
His feet kicked a foot off the ground as his face purpled.
Her expression was twisted in such rage, she could have been a werewolf.
Her green hair whipped wildly around her face, torn out of its usual neat twist by the power whirling around her. “You fucking dare!”
As her voice rose to a roar, the wind whipped faster, tearing blooms from the trees and flattening flowers.
She jerked the lieutenant away from the statue’s back and slammed him into it again so hard, I was surprised the marble didn’t crack. His mouth worked as if to yell in pain, but he didn’t have the breath.
“I am sick of you fucking ungrateful fairies treating your prince with such disrespect! Everything he’s done has been for this kingdom!
What does he get in return? Contempt! If you don’t cut it the hell out, I’ll cut it out for you -- starting with that cock you refuse to keep in your pants! I should kill you just for what you --”
“What did he do?” I snarled.
She didn’t appear to hear me. “You don’t touch women who are not willing, you pig -- I don’t care if they are villagers!”
Oh, thank God it wasn’t… Wait, he’s been raping village girls? My gums stung as my teeth lengthened into fangs, and I had to force my wolf down again. Otherwise I’d jerk him away from her and tear him apart, and I really didn’t want to do that in front of her.
“He’s a dead man if we confirm this,” my father spat. “I’m locking him up until we can find his victims and determine his crimes.”
I growled -- and it was a true wolf growl. “I’d rather kill him now and save the trouble.”
“Save some for me,” Mom told me around a mouthful of fangs, her eyes glowing, her nails lengthening into claws.
Dad gave us a frustrated glower. “I want to kill him as much as you do, but there must be a trial and witness testimony. The law rules here, not royal bloodlust, no matter how deserved. I --”
He was interrupted by Iona’s roar of fury.
“Dearg is a hundred times the man any of you are, and that’s aside from your blasphemy.
Do you think the Dragon God would make a ‘dog’ his Blade?
As if that’s not bad enough, you disrespect your king when you suggest he would make an unworthy man his heir.
What’s worse, that’s Queen Diana you’re calling an animal!
It’s taking everything I have not to kill you as an example to this court of snakes!
” She jerked him away from the column and tossed him thirty feet.
The lieutenant slammed into the ground and tumbled as if he weighed no more than a paper cup.
Maeve’s Forge! I hadn’t realized how strong she was.
His fellow guards started to run over and pick him up, but my father bellowed, “Not one more Cachamwri-cursed step!” Dad stalked toward them, broad shoulders set.
Iona whirled at the sound of his voice, and mortification stamped her face. The wind of her rage died as if cut off with a switch.
The king gestured, opening a communication spell and snapping orders.
A moment later, twenty guards strode into the garden.
Five of them swooped down on Ruadháin and snatched him to his feet, while the rest surrounded his team.
My father stalked over to glare down at Ruadháin, his mouth a tight line, his nostrils flared with rage.
“Lock this animal up,” he told the guards in the deadly rasp he used when he was killing mad.
Every member of the court knew that the madder the king got, the quieter he got.
“We’ll find his victims -- however many there are -- and determine the truth. ”
Ruadháin turned dead white. “I did nothing! She li --”
Dad turned and slapped him across the face so hard blood flew. “I will kill you where you stand if you breathe another syllable.” He looked at the five guards. “Lock him up.”
They dragged him out.
Next Dad turned to Ruadháin’s guard team, who all stood at attention, white-faced and shaking.
“I never want to see any of you in my court again. You shamed your uniform when you permitted that insubordinate dog of a lieutenant to speak of my son with such disrespect. Prince Dearg is going to be the next king whether the nobility like it or not. It’s not optional.
Turn in your uniforms, pack your bags, and be out of here by sunset, or you’ll be in the next cell with him. Is that clear?”
“Yes, sire!” The chorus was ragged but sincere.
He started to turn, then wheeled back. “Do any of you know of Ruadháin raping village girls? And don’t lie to me, because I will, by the Egg, know it.”
Every last one of them cringed. “No,” one man managed, voice trembling. “Never, sire! We know your policies about treating the kingdom’s people with respect. If I’d known, I’d have reported it.”
The king let them have the full impact of his Galatyn glare as he examined them like shit he’d found on his boots. Finally, he nodded. “I’m glad you weren’t stupid enough to lie.”
He turned to the other guards. “Escort them to their quarters. They will take nothing but their civilian clothing and whatever pay they saved.”
“Aye, sire.” The guards surrounded the seven and shoved them toward the nearest palace door.
I smiled in satisfaction. It took a lot to piss Dad off to that degree, but when you did, he made sure you regretted it -- if you survived at all.
I turned toward Iona and stopped dead.
She was staring at us in horrified embarrassment, the demigoddess draining from her aura, the hot green glow of her eyes fading.
As if recognizing her cue, Mother started across the yard toward her, the train of her emerald gown dragging across the lawn over the loose twigs, tree branches, and flower petals shredded by Iona’s rage.
As she walked, she began to clap, her broad grin revealing canines that had grown longer and sharper than usual.
Instead of realizing the queen’s rage wasn’t for her, Iona began to look panicked. It took me entirely too long to realize why. I hurried after my mother and leaned down to whisper, “Dial it down. I think she’s flashing back to that psychotic mother of hers.”
Mom stopped in her tracks and shot me a startled look. For a second, I feared she’d try to give Iona a hug, which would probably be the worst thing she could do, given the abuse Iona had suffered at the hands of her own mother.
But I underestimated Mom. She slowed her stride into a stroll. “I’ve been dying to do that for years,” she told Iona in English. “Just body-slam the next motherfucker who opened his mouth to my kid. Ll?r would have let me do it, but our advisors said it would make Dearg look weak.”
I blinked. I hadn’t heard that version of the conversation.
When Iona just looked mortified, my mother’s expression softened. “You have nothing to worry about, dear. Ruadháin had it coming.”