Chapter 31
Thirty-One
Roman
Raucous poker games and profanities racket the air of the pub but the woman from earlier, Jeannette, doesn’t seem to mind as she drifts from table to table. She carries on her business with a smile on her face, stopping every once in a while to speak with the man behind the bar. When she notices my gaze, her eyes brighten before heading in my direction.
“You again.” Her smile broadens, the warmth of the light making her fiery hair even more beautiful.
My words catch on my tongue. It’s not often someone smiles at me the way she does, as if I’m not a monster hidden in plain sight. But then again, it’s not often I’m around anyone outside of Valebridge. I tug my hood down, making sure most of my face is hidden.
Jeanette’s brows pinch for a moment but her face softens. “There’s a booth in the back—” She points to the corner where a wooden booth is mostly concealed with shadows. “Take it, I’ll bring you a drink.” She winks and squeezes my arm.
I flinch away from the touch, making her jump as well.
“I’m sorry,” I mumble, gripping my arm.
“Not a problem.” She smiles again, and my heart twitches at how genuine it seems.
Why are you here, Roman?
As if reading my thoughts, the guards shout and holler over another round of cards ending.
Oh, right. To gather my men and leave.
I spot one of my closer guards, Stefan, in the crowd. He looks weary as I gesture him over.
“Your Majesty.” Stefan dips his head briefly. “I’m surprised to see you here.” He glances around to the herds of guards and locals. “So many people for your taste.” He smiles, placing his hands behind his back.
Jeanette sets a drink before me and leaves, swiftly attending to another booth with empty tankards. I take a sip despite not having enjoyed it earlier. “I think it’s time we leave, Stefan.”
He cocks his head to the side, a dark brow raising. “Oh? Has Galen given the order?—”
“No.” I slam my tankard onto the table. “But I have, and it’d suit you well not to question me again.”
On goes the mask of the corrupt king.
My eyes bore into Stefan and it doesn’t take long until he’s glancing at his feet, his shoulders slumping forward. “Yes, Your Majesty. I’ll tell the others to prepare to leave by morning’s light.”
“Tonight,” I say. Stefan snaps his gaze to me, his brows pinched tightly together again. “We’ll leave tonight.”
Stefan doesn’t ask anymore questions before he heads to the largest table of guards, whispering into their ears. The men mumble and curse but slowly, they pay their tabs and ready themselves to leave. A few pocket their shillings and don their cloaks.
I take a final sip of the sour ale and leave a generous pile of coin for Jeannete before joining them outside. The men huddle together, about two dozen of them, chattering and grumbling, waiting for direction.
“Gentleman,” I say.
Their voices begin to quiet, and for a brief moment, I doubt what I’m doing. Doubt what I’m about to say. Doubt that I am in fact the King of Teravie and these are my men, not Galen’s.
I’ve never stood alone before them. Never given directions that were purely my own but then I remember the blue paint and the layers and layers of peeling wallpaper, of lies placed on top of it. Squaring my shoulders, I clear my throat.
“I want to thank you for your efforts the last few weeks while we attempted to locate the Dyrsjel.” I scan the crowd, watching their faces under the light of the moon. Most of the men seem unphased, a few certainly are drunk. But the majority look disinterested. “While she is an important part of the plan to harvest magick organically, I’m afraid we can no longer spare the resources. Our search ends tonight.”
The men immediately erupt into a soft chatter. Leaning into each other. Their voices carried by the wind that flows through the emptied streets of Wickersham.
“Corrupt was never right for him,” one of the men snickers.
“Soft is more like it,” says another. This earns a round of laughter from the men.
A thrumming erupts in my chest. Not a steady rhythm, but something low and dangerous slams against my ribs.
“Is something funny?” I step to the closest guard to me and his smile quickly fades.
“No, Your Majesty.” He dips his head but it isn’t enough.
Make them respect you.
I run my fingers over the amulet that hangs around my neck. It flickers to life, a soft purple hue glowing from its center. The men go quiet. The only sound between us now is the soft pad of rain hitting the cobbled streets and the light whoosh of wind.
I take the man’s chin in my grip, keeping the fingers of my other hand pressed to the amulet. “Does anyone have a problem with this new plan?”
I squeeze the man’s chin tighter, pulling a thread of magick from the necklace. It spills over my arms in inky tendrils. Swirling and dancing, it continues down my arm until it forces itself into the man’s nostrils and eyes. He squirms under my touch, gasping for air.
“Speak now.” My grip on the man loosens as his life leeches from his body until eventually he falls to the ground. I use the toe of my boot to shove him off my feet, his body shriveled and pale. But because I’m not as monstrous as I’ve been made to seem, I do the courteous thing and leave him enough air to breathe and enough will to live.
For now.
The men remain quiet as I tuck the amulet back into my shirt, the magick I used still stinging against my arms.
“That was an impressive show.” My face drains as well as my confidence as Galen steps to my side. His hair messily combed back, as if he ran straight here from our bed. Beads of rain form on his dark brows and upper lip, a few falling loose as he casts the men a rare smile. “You may go, gentleman.”
Without a single hesitation the men head straight back to the pub, chattering and laughing amongst themselves.
My jaw clenches as one by one the bodies of the men before me fade to just one. Only the man on the ground remains. Their dismissal of me is the final straw. The absolute break in my armor.
“Come back to bed, little bird. We’ll discuss this in the morning.” Galen grabs my arm but I yank it away.
“No.” I take a step backward. And then another.
The rain has increased but I can see his fury through the storm. His flared nostrils and the way his shoulders tense as he takes a step forward.
“Come back here, Ro,” he demands again. He closes the gap between us, and when he pushes my damp hair from my face, I don’t flinch.
“No.” I push his chest and he stumbles backward. His eyes widen, his jaw flexes and I know there’s no going back after this.
No going back to the man I’ve loved my entire adult life.
No going back to Valebridge as the corrupt king.
No going back to hurting people that do not deserve it.
“They won’t follow you, Roman,” Galen shouts through the now pouring rain. “They know what I’m doing is the right thing, and I think deep down you know it is too. Whatever idea has gotten into your head the last few weeks, it’s the wrong one.”
It’s me who closes the gap now. I want him to feel my anger. Want him to hear the severity in my voice. I get close enough to him that he has to glance up at me, our chests nearly touching with each breath.
“When I return to Valebridge, the law will change. Enchantresses will no longer be hunted, but cherished. As they once were.”
His eyes widen slightly before they narrow. He opens his mouth, and I already know what he’s going to say so I say it first. “They couldn’t save her, Galen. They couldn’t save Rose but that doesn’t make them evil. It doesn’t give us the right to take and take and take.”
He glances away and it could be the rain, but I watch as lines of water run down his cheeks and land upon his perfect mouth. “So, you’ll have killed all of these women for nothing, Roman?” He shakes his head then runs a hand through his hair. “All of this, for nothing?”
“You don’t get to do that.” I fist his cloak and pull him into me, his chest colliding with mine. “You don’t get to make me the villain when it was you who handed me the blade.” I shove him away. “No amount of magick will ever bring her back, Galen. Nothing will change Rose’s fate.” A flicker of hurt flashes across his face but I turn before I can think twice.
“Roman!” he shouts again and again but still, I don’t stop until his shouts fade to nothing, drowned out by the rising rain.
The innkeeper greets me with a scowl as I hurry inside. My boots squelch against the stone floor, my hands tingling from the damp cold. “I need someone to ready my horse.”
He looks up and recognition dons on him when he glances at the grizzly bear crest on my cloak.
“Of course,” he says hastily.
“I also need directions.” My cheeks heat but I push past my embarrassment. That I have been king for five years, have lived here my entire life, and know very little of my own country.
“Where to, Your Majesty?”
Taking a deep breath, I begin to wring out my cloak, letting the water pool on the floor at my feet. “To the Jade Guild.”