Page 30 of The Dead Queen

“Let’s go,” Father says. He nods and the guards release me. My arms ache from the ghosts of their fingers on my skin.

Most of his guards follow him out the door, but Hunter hesitates, watching me as I kneel on the filthy ground. I make sure the Wolf is still breathing. He is, but it’s labored and shallow. In less than a day, he’s on death’s door again. And that’s my fault.

“I said, go.” My father’s voice is low.

There’s nothing I can do for the Wolf now. I can’t heal him with my father standing nearby. He’ll kill him if I intervene. I remember the bread roll from the kitchens in my pocket. My voluminous skirts block it from sight as I tuck it close to the Wolf’s chest. I doubt he’ll be able to eat when he regains consciousness—if he regains it at all—but this is the best I can do.

“My patience is growing thin,” Father warns.

Hunter steps forward and holds out a hand to help me up from the ground. I’m glad to see it’s shaking, though his face is brave. I take it. He gives my hand a gentle squeeze before releasing me. He positions himself between me and the king as we walk toward the exit of the kennels. The Wolf’s door slams closed behind us.

My limbs feel heavy when we reach the fresh air outside. It’s all I can do to stay standing on trembling knees.

Father leads us into the nearby gardens. Nobles avoid our eyes as we pass, and I know why. We bear the unmistakable marks of people involved in intrigue. My skirts are filthy from the kennel floors and my father’s knuckles are bloody, his sleeves still rolled up to his elbows. Father doesn’t seem worried about the gossipmongers. No one would dare question a bloodied king.

Father halts near the fading hydrangea bushes. He gives Hunter a pointed look. “Leave us.”

Hunter hesitates, then nods. He watches me warily as he retreats toward the stables. The three other knights follow, their shadows stretching long in the fading light.

Father turns to me, haloed in the setting sun. “I do not trust that man in the cell. And it’s not because we found him sneaking around my rooms like a thief.” He squints at me, his eyes dark and calculating. “Do you know why I don’t trust him, dear daughter?”

I permit one sharp shake of my head.

“I do not trust him, because I do not trust you.”

“I swear, I don’t know him.” My voice is quiet, lost behind the choking rage.

“Let us both hope that’s true,” he says. “Now run along, Little Fox. I believe your beloved is waiting for you.”

I turn to retreat, relief spreading through me like ice through my veins.

“Actually, one more thing,” he calls me back.

I pause mid-step, my hands clenching into fists at my sides.

My father clucks like a mother hen. “A deceitful heir should be careful, lest she lose her throne.” He turns from me, then pauses. Almost thoughtfully, he adds, “Or even her life. One cannot be too careful with these dangerous games. Best to wed and live a happy, domestic life. Wouldn’t you agree?” He raises an eyebrow at me.

I grit my teeth and nod.

“Good girl,” he says, like he speaks to his foxhounds when they cower at his approach. “An obedient daughter is a rewarded daughter. Remember that next time you try to deceive me.” He leaves me among the dying autumn flowers.

When he is out of sight, my knees crumble and I fall to the ground. I do my best to stifle the gut-wrenching scream into my filthy gowns. Angry tears blur the world around me. Not even the brilliant orange sunset along the horizon can distract me from the darkness growing in my heart.

Part Two

The Knight

Chapter 11

The twilight around me is eerily quiet. Twisted branches and overgrown hedges cast dark shadows on the ground. I’m crumpled in the dirt, focusing on steady breaths, when someone wraps their arms around my shoulders. The metallic scent of copper mixes with the aroma of night-blooming flowers. It smells like a nosebleed in a garden.

Hunter’s armor digs into my arms uncomfortably, but I don’t push him away even though we’re in full view of anyone passing through the grounds.

“Sienna, I’m so sorry.” His voice hitches.

I shut my eyes, trying to banish the memory of Hunter hitting the Wolf again and again. Of the sickening thuds echoing off the stone walls of the decrepit cell.

“I didn’t want to do it,” he says. “Please believe me.”