Page 128 of The Faceless Queen

“You found her?” he asked. “Princess Olivay!

“She’s safe,” Brennan said.

There was a cry of worry, and Olivay’s parents were running frantically toward us, their emotions running ahead of them, reaching out to me.

“I can stand,” I said.

Brennan was pale, like he’d seen a ghost, but he nodded and set me on my feet.

“Olivay!” Queen Noemay cried out.

“My daughter,” roared the king. “What the fuck happened to her? Where was she?”

“I didn’t mean to scare you!” I said, my vision blurred by tears. They threw their arms around me. “I just got too near the trees. I wanted to see if Brennan was back,” I lied. “I was so worried. And then these men grabbed me and dragged me from the clearing into the dark.”

“Which men! Who?” barked King Dairen, releasing me. He was already looking through the trees. “I’ll have their heads!”

“Or I will,” King Tirian said slowly. “She’s an Eskalon princess now, this is an Eskalon matter.”

King Tirian breezed past Olivay’s father, looking at him with disgust, before coming to stand by me and his son.

Brennan’s jaw clenched, and he took my hand, angling his body before mine. In the distance, thunder rumbled.

“Look at me, princess.” Tirian reached for my chin, pulling my face to look up, his fingers pinching my skin. “Tell the truth. Did they touch you?”

“Your Majesty!” Queen Noemay cried out in outrage. “Please!”

“I have to know before the wedding,” King Tirian said.

Brennan shook his head, squeezing my hand. “Father, please. Just give her a minute.”

“You need to know as well,” he said.

“It doesn’t matter to me!” Brennan argued.

“It doesn’t matter? It will matter! It will matter to the state! You understand how this looks? What people will say? This will only lead to questions and rumors we can’t afford to spread.” He lowered his voice. “You understand, above all, how important the line of succession is. You understand that there can be no doubt that the child she conceives is yours. Now, I must know exactly what transpired.”

I wanted to scream. Because why did it fucking matter if they touched me or not. They wanted to. And why would it change who I was as a person? Why should I be perceived differently because of an act someone else did! The injustice was maddening, but it wasn’t the time to feel that. Nor was I in a body who would be aware of such things.

Tears burned the backs of my eyes as I bit my lip, carefully choosing my words. “They dragged me to the ground, told me they’d remove my clothes,” I said. “But they didn’t have the chance.”

The king took a deep breath, his expression thoughtful, his emotions flat. He had no care what had or hadn’t happened to me. Only if this hurt the crown or not.

“I see,” he said, his eyes dipping down the length of my body, his gaze snagging on one of the tears I’d made in the skirt. “And do you swear you remain intact? They did not ruin you, even with your clothes on?”

“Father,” Brennan protested, but the king ignored him.

“They did not,” I whispered, disgusted at the question.

“My soldiers are binding the criminals as we speak,” Brennan said, his voice low. “I want them executed in the morning. What they tried to do is enough. Now let us go. Question them, interrogate them, torture them until they scream—I don’t fucking care. But she was injured and traumatized. I need to take her to the healer.”

A gust of cold wind blew through the clearing, lifting everyone’s cloaks as it passed. The king clicked his tongue and sighed deeply before waving Brennan off. “Very well.” But it was at that moment when Rowan stepped out into the clearing, and Brennan’s guard emerged with the criminals, bound and beaten.

“Hmmm,” Tirian made a noise, low in his throat. “All three are House Bathiner.” He frowned. “And I thought your bloodline was healing from its tendencies toward treachery and betrayal.” He turned to his soldiers and shook his head. “This was not an attempted assault, nor an attack on Princess Olivay. Though, much to her dismay and my son’s, she was nearly collateral. No, what I see before me is an attack on the crown, on your king, on House Lafir.” He made a noise, low in his throat. “I was going to allow my son to execute you for offending his bride. A quick and easy death. But I see now that this was an act of treason. You will be transported to the dungeons at dawn for your trial and sentencing. And when found guilty, you’ll be dragged into the city, drawn and quartered.”

“No! No!” they were all yelling over each other. Screaming, babbling incoherent defenses. Erick, Donovan and Stephen. Until Tirian waved a hand, demanding silence.

“My King, I beg you!” Erick cried, snot running down his nose. “Have mercy.”