Page 53 of The Bear King’s Bride

In a few minutes, she felt his hand on her head. Stroking her hair with weak fingers.

“Had my flank,” he whispered.

“Always. Don’t talk. Your throat hurts.”

“You’re right.”

“Shhh.” She managed to sit up, and when she saw his mouth open again, she silenced him the only way she knew how. She kissed him.

Chapter Fourteen

Jocasta walked down to the stockade, fury shaking every ounce of her body. Her dress was still stained. She hadn’t taken it off, letting the sight of Girion’s blood strengthen her. Fire danced from the tips of her fingers when she remembered the way his last words—well, what he had believed to be his last words—were declarations of love. For her.

“You almost took away the first thing I have let myself love in many years,” Jocasta announced, storming past a perfect storm of guards. Herrick trailed her, and she saw him shake his head when some of the guards began to move forward. The message was clear. Jocasta the Just had come to take a bit of justice for her beloved Girion the Great.

Nemo cowered in his cell, draped in his discarded clothes. “He attacked me.”

“No. He chased you. You ran. Why?”

Jocasta knew, of course. Girion was awake and talking, claiming he felt fine. Cole and the royal physician were practically sitting on him to keep him in bed and resting.

“I have no idea. I guess he didn’t like that I used to know your family.”

“Nemo. Which means No One. But you were called Mr. Reynard. You know... I found out that in the olden days, many royal and noble families gave their servants their household name. Reynard—that isn’t a common name in Caledon. It’s much more common in certain regions of Wyndwood, in particular, the royal city. The Archduke and Archduchess Reynard come from a very old family. They presumably have very old lines, maybe old family retainers who took their name.” She shrugged. “Or it could be a coincidence. Who knows? Who cares? What matters is that you bit my husband. You almost killed the King of Caledon. I’m fairly certain you can be executed for that.”

“Yes,” Herrick said. One cold, firm word that made Nemo sit up in the corner of his cell.

“Which is entirely stupid, because you, at worst, committed some acts of sharp practice with money, and at best, were ignorant of the law. But then you ran—and apparently you said some most unkind things about humans.”

“Treason. Treason against Queen Jocasta.” Murmurs began to run through the guards.

“Oh, a person is free to say what they think, unkind and ignorant though it may be.”

“I didn’t think the king would approve. He was asking questions he had no right to ask!”

“You were a guest in his home. Attacking someone in their home is frowned upon in polite circles.” Jocasta walked to the bars of the cell. Her fingers touched the metal, and her exhaustion vanished. Fire flooded her palms, and she grit her teeth as her hands stung. “What are the bars made of, Herrick? Iron?”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

“Heats quickly.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Good for cooking,” she mused, eyes fixed on the prisoner, who quickly bolted away from the iron bars and stone walls.

“Stone ovens. Those are useful for baking.”

“Stop it. You’re not going to—”

Jocasta gripped the bars, and a scream ripped right from her soul as she looked at the blood on her dress and recalled Girion’s glassy eyes. The bars glowed red-hot in seconds. The guards stood still. Nemo, Reynard, whoever he was, started turning in circles, gasping for air.

“Talk,” Herrick said as she stopped screaming and stepped back, panting.

The prisoner hissed, “You can’t—”

“Please don’t do that again,” Herrick said softly. “She can. She will. And we’ll help her sweep up your ashes when she’s done, and we’ll use them to grit the palace steps after the next ice storm.”

The Fox licked his lips, looked around at his wardens, the cell, and the apparently deranged queen on the other side of the bars. “Nemo is the alias I was given. My papers say Reynard, because that’s my name. My family has served the Archduke’s family for ages.”