Chapter Sixteen #2
But when they reach us, the five stags dressed in armor plates and carrying weapons don’t bow.
Instead, they unleash their armaments, long swords glinting with dastardly, magick-destroying silver.
“Cian Malvernon, by order of King Frederick, you are commanded to come with us. Bring your mate. You will be housed in separate prisons to await your trials.”
“What do you mean, King Frederick? Where’s Hunter?”
One long glittering metal blade touches Cian’s chest, but he doesn’t flinch. He stares the guard dead in the eyes—until he notices another guard is about to grab me.
In a whirlwind of movement, Cian pushes me behind him. With a roar of outrage, he turns and kicks in a series of movements that resemble dance. He strikes them all, and since they mostly seem unwilling to lay silver on their once-king, their swords go flying.
Without thinking, I lean to pick up one of them. It’s taller than I am and maybe even heavier. The weight nearly pulls me flat to the ground. I grit my teeth and, with two hands, manage to lift it, though I point it at the guards’ ankles.
Great. If they stand still in a row, I can stab them in their toes. I may be more powerful now for having mated Cian, but I’m still a weakling compared to the guards.
When Cian breaks free of the punches the guards aren’t afraid to throw, I shout his name. As he turns, I throw the sword. With the same grace he exhibits in all things, he bends in one motion, scoops it up, and nicks the arms of all five stags who suddenly back away, hands raised in surrender.
He turns the blade like a pinwheel, as if it weighs no more than a slice of cheese.
The guard who first challenged him drops to his knee, head bent. “Your Majesty, forgive us. We didn’t know.”
The others follow, but more slowly.
Cian extends the blade and lifts the guard’s chin with it. “Tell me what’s occurred.”
“The Earl of MacAvern returned. He gathered everyone in the Great Hall. Without ceremony, he announced that he had bested you in a fight and that he was now our king?” There’s a question in his voice, as if he’s not sure the earl was telling the truth.
Especially now, after Cian bested five guards without truly harming a one.
“Continue.” Cian tosses a glance my way.
The guard swallows. “Supper was served. The earl sat at your place upon the High Table, Your Majesty. He seemed... not in the best of moods. Word had already circulated about how you mated with your plaissance and given her half your power, so that you were now... well, average, I suppose.”
“How on earth would anyone know?” Cian wonders.
I don’t. Gossip and court run hand in hand. It wouldn’t surprise me to find there’s a spy hole in the king’s chambers.
The guard shrugged. “I wouldn’t know.”
Cian nods. “Continue with your tale.”
“Someone called for a toast for the new king. The earl—king—no, earl seemed reluctant to drink, but the Duke of Freeborn stood to make a toast to his long health and reign, and then...”
Cian closes his eyes and breathes deeply. “No.”
“Almost immediately, he began to sway. People were in shock, Your Majesty. No one quite knew what to do with so much upheaval. And by the time we rushed the High Table, the duke—er, king, third king—was behind the earl—er, king—the second king—with a blade to his throat. He...”
“No!” For the first time, panic fills Cian’s voice. “Tell me he lives!”
My hand moves to cover my mouth, to hold in the scream welling up inside me.
“Murdoch arrived in the Great Hall just as the dagger ripped the earl’s—king’s, oh, fuck it, the earl’s throat. The Aurory sent him, he said. Not even King Frederick could gainsay a monk traveling under the Aurory’s auspices. Murdoch managed to seal the wound before the earl bled out, but...”
“But Freeborn took the throne, claiming it in a one-sided challenge. Did he drug Hunter?”
The guard doesn’t respond. Cian looks at each of the other guards in turn. All bow their heads lower.
“This,” Cian hisses, “is treachery, not challenge and victory.” He gestures me into his open arm and slides a kiss against my forehead. “There’s no time to outfit you for a journey to Malvernon Keep, love, not now. You,” he adds, addressing the first guard. “What’s your name?”
“Me? Jimmy, Your Majesty. Jimmy Acorns.”
“Well, Jimmy Acorns, I have a job for you, the most important job there is. You are to keep watch over my mate, your queen, and if it seems I will fall to the cur who sits his fat ass on my throne, you are to take her immediately to Malvernon Keep. Explain there who she is to me and that I wish her to receive everything due my mate. Understood?”
Jimmy bobs his head and crosses his chest with the V sign of Cernunnos. Of the Antler Throne. “It will be done as you ask, Your Majesty.”
And just that easily, Cian has his throne back, at least in his mind and in the mind of these guards.
“Good.” Cian turns his attention back to me.
“You’ll remain hidden with Jimmy Acorns.
You’ll listen to him and do exactly what he tells you to do.
At all costs, if anything happens to me, you’re to take your place at Malvernon Keep.
No hesitation and no looking back. You’re the strongest, bravest doe I know, Ayala Malvernon.
” He gives me my new last name, I think, to remind me I’ve a right to it. “Make me proud of you.”
I don’t know what a strong, brave doe would say to those orders, because I’m not her. I’m the same me that I’ve always been, but I’m filled with a new trepidation and fear the likes of which I never knew before I made some daisy cakes.
I’m terrified I’m going to lose him. The most horrible certainty that the minute he walks into the palace, I’ll never see him again, nearly overwhelms me.
And when he pulls me into him for a bruising kiss, my thoughts are so wild, I miss most of it. When he parts from me, I yearn to hold him back, but I can’t, not without embarrassing him in front of the guards.
It’s not until he marches off, snapping instructions, that I realize tears are falling down my face.
I brush them back. I’m a strong, brave doe.
At the very least, I’m going to pretend that I am. For him.
I turn to Jimmy Acorns. “I’m going to the Great Hall. Don’t try to stop me.”
Surprisingly, at least to me, he doesn’t protest. Instead, he says, “I know a back entrance to the Throne Room, which is where I bet the pretender will sit. He’ll want the Antler Throne beneath him to secure his rule.
The entrance is supposed to be for guards to surprise and entrap those who oppose the king.
Hasn’t been used since King Charlin’s day. ”
“Cian would never allow such an underhanded move against those with argument.”
Jimmy winks. “Your mate is a stag of a different point, Your Majesty, which is why we follow him.”
“Not a majesty yet,” I murmur as he extends his arm so I can wrap my hand around it.
“Beg to differ, ma’am. Come. We’ve a fight to watch. Frankly, I can’t wait to see that slimy duke get his just rewards.”
Me, too.