Page 5 of The Blood Queen

But she stops in front of me.

And grabs a section of my hair.

I stiffen and keep my eyes on the floor, on the shine of her armored boots.

“We love your hair, Samson Calthorpe,” she coos. “Red. Red like ours. Red like Red Caps. Red like blood.”

Her adoration is such a vibrant difference from her emotionless, stark tone that it sends a chill over my skin, a shiver I barely catch in time.

She runs the lock of hair through her fingers, lets it trickle down against my cheek. A strand gets tangled in the red glowing ring on her finger; she pulls, snapping the hair, and I flinch. What could that ring do? Drain my life force? Paralyze me?

Nothing happens. I’m choking down panting breaths, but nothing happens.

“We are glad you are ready to serve us.” Her fingers scratch across my scalp, and my eyes slam shut. “You have pleased us greatly.”

I steady my breathing, lips parted, shoulders screaming from holding still.

Next to me, Alyth shifts on the stone floor. “Release me,” she snaps, “and I may convince the fae court to be lenient with you.”

It yanks my gaze to hers.

She’s been silent and docile until now, playing along in this bloody awful charade we’re stuck in. But now she’s glaring up at Elizabeth, eyes narrow and fuming.

After one more long beat of Elizabeth stroking my head like I’m some dog come to beg scraps at her feet, she flicks her eyes to Alyth as if just remembering she’s here.

I blink. Just a blink, one-half second, barely that.

A crack. A cry.

My body jolts at the shock before I can put thought to what happened.

Alyth’s slumped to the side. Elizabeth’s arm is twisted.

The High Blade hit her.

A wash of rage barrels into me, catching itself up against the dam of my shock, holding me immobile. It’s saving us both right now.

If I had control of myself, I’d claw the High Blade’s eyes out.

“You do not dare speak to us unprompted, bastard,” the High Blade tells Alyth. To no one in particular, she says, “Take her below with the rest.”

The rest?

I push to my feet, tension releasing in shakes and quivers, and reach down for Alyth.

But Elizabeth flips her hand up, staying me. “Others will see to her. Your part is done for now.”

No.

All that releasing tension contracts.

No!

Soldiers grab Alyth, haul her to her feet. As she’s dragged away, her eyes meet mine, watery from the pain of being hit, her cheek already swelling.

She’s gone before I can impart anything in that last look.

Nearly forgotten, Cecil shuffles up next to me, grinning, fat, and happy at his son’s rise in favor.