Page 93 of To Save a Kingdom

The only thing it did was to catch the attention of every single noble and guard in the room. A few snickered, and Lord Castegrass had the audacity to leer at her.

“That’s not the queen,” Castegrass said. “Her body type, hair and facial structure are all wrong.” Raising an eyebrow, he managed to look down his nose at Brooks, despite lounging in a plush armchair by the hearth. “If you don’t know that, I have serious doubts as to your ability to pull off this coup.”

Brooks shook her. “It’s her. It’s not my fault if you can’t see past her disguise.”

Aliya’s knees locked as her blood turned to ice. He was going to tell everyone she was a shapeshifter! Her secret would be out, and she’d be hunted across the realm.

She couldn’t let that happen. Meeting the lord’s eyes, she glared at him. “You continue to underestimate me to your detriment. One day, it’ll cost you not just your position, but your life.”

Brooks tossed her into one of the wooden chairs the guard had vacated seconds before. Silver-white cuffs snapped around Aliya’s wrists and ankles, securing her in place.

Her senses dulled, as though she’d been shoved underwater. The spot in her chest where her magic lived went cold, its warm pulse extinguished.

Antimonite.

They’d chained her to the chair with antimonite.

Contorting her face in a grimace, she pulled on her bindings. They scratched the armrests, but the furniture piece was solid. She wouldn’t be able to use brute force to escape.

Clenching her jaw, she growled. Curse Roland. Curse Brooks. Curse every single noble in this mage-forsaken castle that thought they were superior just because of her gender or position. Forget them—she would purge the palace and start anew with people who actually cared and were willing to set aside their egos.

She would build the realm into a kingdom everyone could be proud of, even if it killed her.

Brooks put his hands over her wrists and leaned down into her face, staring into her eyes.

Something in her gut twisted at the malevolence she saw there. “What do you want with me?”

He grunted and glanced over his shoulder. “Bring me the book.” The red gem flashed, searing her retinas.

Someone whose face she couldn’t make out spun on their heel and scuttled out of view at the order.

“What’s this?” Reaching into her ear, Brooks pulled out her second earplug.

Crap. Well, judging from how many supporters he had, it was unlikely he was going to set off one of his Whisperers. Now, she could only hope the same could be said for her allies…

Clenching her jaw, she rammed her forehead into his face as he turned to her. His nose gave a satisfying crunch.

A splitting pain cut across her brow as warm liquid dripped into her eyebrows. She’d hit him hard enough to split her own skin.

Brooks tumbled backward, blood spurting down his chin in a macabre beard. “You wench!” Lunging forward, he grabbed her chair and flung it to the side, toppling her to the ground.

The armrest shattered as it smashed into the floor. The antimonite shackle that had fit so well around her arm and the wood was suddenly loose enough for her to work herself free.

Brooks snatched an oversized grimoire from one of his soldiers. Setting it aside, he dropped to his knees and leafed through the pages. Blood splattered onto the parchment as it dripped down his chin.

With a satisfied grunt, he spread the book open, bloody fingerprints staining the margins. “Umbra vael, keth-ra nu umbrak,” he chanted, his voice taking on a deep almost metallic timbre that shook Aliya’s bones. “Val saeth novis. Umbra vael, umbra vael, val saeth novis!”

The flames in the sconces and in the hearth sputtered, their centers turning black. The temperature plunged, raising goosebumps on Aliya’s skin.

Several of the nobles and guards around them cried out, their voices rising with their terror. Every shadow in the room, including Aliya’s, stretched toward Brooks, as though he was a magnet. They saturated the book and crawled up through his fingers and arms in obsidian waves.

The whites of Brook’s eyes turned to onyx, as did the blood leaching from his nose.

Oh, mages.

Aliya cowered back, as if her seat could provide her any protection from this.

Whatever this was.