Page 61

"Apologize," I tell him. "To her. Now."

"I'm sorry!" he shrieks. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry!"

Beyond the gate, the village men are swinging down off their horses. Uncertain. Glancing at each other. One of them puts a hand on the hilt of a sword.

Rhydian turns to face them.

There's no smile on his face. No charm. No jokes. Nothing but cold, burning gold eyes. I haven't seen him look like that in a century.

"I'd think very carefully about what you do next," he tells them, softly. "Very carefully. Because attacking us would be an exceptionally painful mistake."

The men freeze. They look at each other. Then at Rhydian. Then at me, with their lord on his knees and his wrist broken in my hand. The man takes his hand off his sword, and none of them moves another step.

Zarek walks down off the porch.

He doesn't hurry. He never hurries. He walks across the garden like he's walking across his throne room, every step measured, and he stops beside Elara. He doesn't touch her. He just stands at her side.

Then he looks down at Silas.

"Let me make something clear, my lord," he says. His voice carries. It's the voice of a man who has commanded armies, and every person in that garden hears it. "Elara belongs with us. Just as we belong with her. She'll be Queen Elara before the week is out. And we will be her devoted kings."

Silas's mouth falls open.

"I am King Zarek," Zarek says. He gestures to Rhydian. "This is King Rhydian." Then to me. "And King Kaelen."

The effect is instant.

Out beyond the gate, the color drains out of the village men's faces. One of them makes a strangled noise. Another drops to his knees right there in the snow. Then another. Then all of them, bowing their heads, hats crushed in their hands.

And Silas.

Silas looks like he's going to be sick.

"Your Majesties," he chokes. "Your Majesties, I didn't know. Forgive me. I swear I didn't know who you were. If I'd known, I never would have... please. Please forgive me. I beg you."

"That isn't ours to decide," Rhydian says coldly. "Your fate is hers."

Silas's head jerks toward Elara.

I don't let go of his wrist.

She walks toward us slowly. She stops in front of him and looks down at him, kneeling in the snow, his face blotchy, his broken wrist still trapped in my fist.

The man who spent years trying to own her.

He starts babbling. "Elara. Elara, please. I never meant to hurt you. I swear it. I'll never bother you again. I'll never come near you. You'll never see me again, I swear on my life. Please."

She looks at him for a long, long time.

I watch her face. It's calm. Cold. I've never seen her look like this.

"Your days of grabbing women are over," she tells him. "Your days of treating them like possessions, like things you get to own because you want them, they're over. Do you understand me?"

"Yes! Yes, I understand!"

She tilts her head. "Do you need Kaelen to break your other wrist? Just to make sure you remember?"

I'd do it. Happily. I let him see that on my face.