Page 69 of The Crowned Queen

Araya closed her eyes, leaning into its comforting touch. The vines didn’t crush her this time, instead gently brushing over her broken body. No, she hadn’t changed her mind. But did that even matter now? She couldn’t feel her back, her mind strangely distant from her body, but she knew it was bad. Very bad.

It matters, the forest whispered. Open your eyes, little queen.

Araya blinked, her eyes struggling to focus on the scene in front of her. The vines hadn’t just torn open the ground. The timber wall gaped open like shattered ribs, a dark tunnel of writhing greenery yawning open like a portal to the forest she could have sworn was closer than it had been the day they’d brought her in.

Stand up, little queen.

She shouldn’t have been able to do it. But she dragged herself to her knees, black spots dancing across her vision.

Something glinted in the dirt—a sword, dropped by a panicked soldier. Araya’s fingers shook as they wrapped around the hilt. It was too heavy for her to lift, but she managed to turn it in the right direction, the point of the blade digging into the ground as she used it to haul herself to her feet.

Her legs shook, but when she stumbled and would have fallen a root rose beneath her hand. She took a step. Then another. Vines parted, shifting to ease her way, but Araya couldn’t tear her eyes away from the beckoning greenery and the trees beyond.

They would never follow her in there. Just a few more steps and she’d be free⁠—

“Going somewhere, Miss Starwind?”

No. No, no, no, no⁠—

Araya’s knees buckled, furious tears flooding her eyes as Garrick Shaw stepped between her and freedom. She had been so close. But the strange strength that had carried her this far ebbed with every heartbeat, the pain roaring back with all the force of a landslide, threatening to drag her away with it.

But she wouldn’t go. Not without fighting. Not this time.

Araya’s fingers tightened around the hilt of the sword, leather biting into her tender palms. Her shredded back screamed, pain washing over her in sickening waves as she forced the blade up.

“Get out of my way,” she ordered, her voice shaking as badly as the tip of the sword she was pointing at Garrick Shaw.

He laughed.

“That would be more of a threat,” he said mildly, “if the runes carved into your skin wouldn’t drop you to your knees the moment you tried to use that blade against me.”

He stepped forward, his hand closing around her forearm. The vines at Araya’s feet recoiled, snapping back as if they’d brushed hot iron. But Garrick didn’t even glance down at them. He twisted her wrist, prying the sword from her numb fingers and tossing it aside.

“You’re a clever girl, Miss Starwind,” he said. “You’re hurt. Bleeding. How far do you think you would have made it? There’s nothing out there but wild magic and trees. If the forest didn’t kill you, your wounds would have.”

Araya bared her teeth, yanking against his grip. “Better to die free,” she hissed, “than spend the rest of my life getting fucked by the Shaws.”

“Ah, there it is.” Garrick’s lip curled, the careful veneer he affected slipping. “No matter how pretty my son dresses you up, you can’t deny your base nature. You’re barely better than an animal.”

He leaned in, his breath hot on her face.

“You will never be free,” he whispered. “As long as there is a living Shaw in this world, we will own you. Your body. Your magic. Your offspring. And when you’re all used up and begging for death?” He yanked her forward, ripping a cry from her throat. “It will be a Shaw who decides whether you deserve it.”

Araya closed her eyes, something twisting in her chest. She had never been free. Not since she was eight years old and traded her name for her mother’s life.

“Is everything alright here, sir?”

Araya’s eyes snapped open.

Kai Sterling stood a few paces away, the sword Garrick had wrenched from her hand hanging awkwardly at his side. His gaze flicked from Garrick’s grip on her arm to the shredded ruin of her back, his tawny skin blanching.

“You shouldn’t be here, Kai,” Garrick said, irritation sharpening his tone. “It’s not safe.”

“Right.” Kai swallowed hard, his eyes darting to where Caylin hung, her limp body still impaled on the root jutting from the ground. Her eyes had gone glassy, no breath rasping past her bloodied lips. “But the men need you, sir. It’s utter chaos⁠—”

“If his men can’t handle this, Rowland doesn’t deserve this command.” Garrick sneered. “Go back to your tent, Kai.”

“I’d love to, sir,” Kai said, an edge of desperation to his voice. He picked his way forward, closing the distance between them. “But shouldn’t I take her with me?”