Seven Ways to Kill a King

by Melissa Wright

  Fighting in the room beyond was joined by the muffled sound of a body falling on fabric as the tension released from Miri’s chest. The sorcerer was gone and, with it, his effect on her. She nodded, sword in her hand, and she and Cass rushed from the alcove to help fight the remaining kingsmen who had been the sorcerer’s guard.

  They made their way through the castle, the route painfully familiar. Shadows darkened the stairwell, and they ducked into an alcove, weapons drawn and breath held until footsteps rushed past. As they came closer to the tower, Miri tried to keep her thoughts from what they might find and what the king had done to her sister in the years gone past or why he might want her in the keep so near him. To be certain, it was to make sure she was safe, out of the hands of the sorcerers, surely, something Miri should have thought of before. But a voice deep inside her whispered its doubts. Miri pressed them down, tightening her grip on her sword. Whatever had happened, whatever Nicholas had done, it would soon be over.

  An explosion of sound came from a courtyard outside, but the bells had not yet begun to ring. Terric and the queensguard had made certain of it. Cass shoved a massive chest from in front of a library wall then made quick work of the panel beneath. Next, they went down a short set of wooden stairs and ran through the darkness between the castle walls. The queensguard behind Miri held a torch, its flickering light catching on the block walls and the outline of Cass before her. He turned down another passage, and the way became narrower. They froze outside the panel of wood that was their escape, listening for sounds of movement beyond. They were so close to the tower, so close to the worst of the kings and the man who held her mother’s blood. She was finally close to finding Lettie, after so many lost years.

  Cass glanced at Miri, and she did her best to convey she was well and that she had the emotion and the tingling dread under control. She wasn’t certain if she was telling the truth, but she had no choice about it. There was no going back.

  He slid the panel free, and they slipped into a sizable bedroom with no evidence of recent use. Beyond its small sitting room would be a door to the corridor that could take them to the castle keep. Cass gave a glance to the men behind them, obviously asking if they were well and truly ready for the sprint through the remaining rooms, for that fight that was to come. At their nods, the lot of them moved forward and came into a sitting room that was entirely bare of furniture. Cass froze near the doorway, his gaze roaming the space. There were signs the room had been charred, though no scent of smoke or hint of ash remained. It had been burned long before, no doubt, but the room had not been repaired. His wary gaze met Miri’s. They both knew it had been years since they’d last explored the castle and that any number of things could have changed. Nicholas had been strict about visitors. No one was allowed to set foot in the keep, aside from a small number of servants who’d been locked inside, unable to leave because they had access to his secrets.

  It was why none of the queensguard knew much of what had happened inside. Nicholas had been the cleverest and kept himself the most secure. Miri had never wanted a man dead more in her life. Cass gave her one final look before opening the door to the corridor—then an explosion knocked them back into the room.

  Cass’s body rolled over Miri, knocking her onto the stone as they were pelted with bits of block and ash. Miri’s chest went tight with the approach of a sorcerer, and she realized the explosion had come not from them but from kingsmen. It was powder, not magic. The sound of clashing swords broke through the room, and one of their queensguard landed solidly on the floor beside Miri and Cass. Before her ears had stopped ringing, Cass was on his feet, and Miri stood behind him despite the dread building in her chest threatening to drown her. She raised her sword to fend off a blow, but a blast of energy slammed into her, knocking her again onto the floor. It was a sorcerer and too many kingsmen. They rushed forward, swords clashing, bursts of power cracking through the room and over Miri’s skin like lightning. Another queensguard’s body fell beside her.

  As Cass turned to find Miri, his sword flashed, but it was far too late. The kingsmen descended. Miri was frozen by blood magic, her sword limp in her hand, and Cass was outnumbered twenty to one.

  He fought on, but it was only moments before Miri and Cass were bound, defenseless, and prepared to be dragged through the castle. The sorcerer’s blood ran over Cass’s blade. He had not been able to fight them all, but he’d done what he could to free Miri from the magic’s hold on her. Blood poured from a wound on his shoulder, a gash on his forehead, and another along his leg. He’d nearly died trying to prevent her capture, and two of his brethren already had.

  They had failed—after everything. Cass would be tortured and killed. Lettie would be bled out at the hands of the king. The realm would be lost.

  The kingsmen dragged them through the corridors, and Miri realized they were being taken not to the square to be hanged or to the cells to wait. They were going to the tower. The king knew who Miri was. Cass swore and struggled against the soldiers, knocking two from their feet before being subdued by two more. A kingsman slammed his sword hilt into Cass’s jaw and was repaid with a fight only that much fiercer. He was outnumbered, and the kingsmen were gathering through the halls. More and more kept coming, and there was less that they could do.

  Cass wrenched in their hold, his gaze finding Miri, and she winced at the torment she saw in his eyes. It could only get worse. She gave him a small nod before she was jerked forward again, through a massive arching doorway that led to the tower keep—to the king on his throne.

  Chapter 31

  Miri was shoved to her knees at the base of the polished steps before her mother’s throne, Cass beside her. She didn’t know whether Nicholas meant to gloat or if he only wanted to witness her death in person. She couldn’t defeat him from her knees, but that did not stop her from glaring up at the man with a promise in her eyes.

  “Princess Myrina,” Nicholas said with a purr. He wore a rich, dark-red, velvet-trimmed suit, a golden crown, and a jeweled chain draped over his shoulders. He seemed to have barely aged. He was the same man in her nightmares, unchanged by years on the throne.

  Miri spat. Blood splattered across the steps before her, but none of it was hers.

  Nicholas chuckled. “The little Lion still has bite.”

  Panic was tight in Miri’s chest, but the sorcerers had not approached from the back of the hall. She had no idea what was stopping them from closing the distance but was grateful she could manage any movement at all. “You have broken the laws of blood. You betrayed the one true queen.”

  The king glanced at the kingsman beside Miri, and the man’s fist cracked across her jaw. In response, Cass smashed his head into one of the men holding him but was shoved back down in a violent struggle that only left him bleeding more.

  The king sighed. “I see you’ve brought a bloodsworn with you. One of Henry’s little brats.” His finger waved above the arms of the throne, and his tone bored, he said, “Kill him.”

  “I wouldn’t,” someone somewhere behind Miri said. “Not unless you want to lose three more.”

  The king’s gaze shot to the man, and though Miri couldn’t see him, she knew it was Terric. He had the sorcerers hostage beneath his blade. It was why the king had not yet acted, why no magic tore through the room. If he killed Miri or Cass, he would lose as many sorcerers as Terric and his men held. Yet Terric could not move on the king without Miri and Cass losing their lives.

  She couldn’t figure out what Nicholas was waiting for, but she could see that he was buying time. The king had a card up his sleeve, maybe more men or more sorcerers or something worse Miri had not yet considered. Bloodsworn could not be harmed by magic, but they could still be killed.

  The door behind the throne opened, and two more figures walked in. Prince Augustus had grown tall, his features as smooth and square as his father’s. His dark eyes skirted Miri and Cass, as if the entire ordeal was beneath him. Miri had never wanted a prince dead more in h
er life.

  Her gaze fell back to Nicholas, but the corner of his mouth was pinched in something of a tell. He thought he’d won, yet Miri could not see how. Prince Augustus stopped beside the throne, and beside him stepped a tall woman who curtsied briefly to the king. She faced forward, her golden eyes trailing over the room.

  Miri’s chest seized, her mind screaming that she had to be wrong. The woman wore a long velvet gown, her hair hidden beneath a headdress that draped her bare shoulders and was woven with red ribbons and jewels. She was older, the soft lines of childhood leaving not a single trace. Her skin was smooth and powdered, not at all the visage Miri had imagined. But there was no denying her sister’s face or the familiar expression of both contempt for a prisoner and interest for how the crime would be dealt with. Miri’s mouth fell open to speak, but she could not find words.

  Lettie stared at her for several moments, and Miri remembered her sister had thought her dead. She wanted to scream at her, to make her see, but Miri’s voice would still not come. Then the perfect brow pinched above her sister’s eyes, the first hint of recognition coming slowly to her precise features, before it dawned all at once. “Myrina.” The word seemed to fall unintentionally from Lettie’s mouth, and Miri couldn’t make out the emotion that drove it.

  Miri’s gaze flicked from her sister to the king. His half smile mocked the exchange. It seemed to say that Miri had mistaken everything. Miri’s eyes shot back to Lettie. “I thought you were locked in a cell, all these years.” Miri swallowed, her breath shallow. “Captive.”

  Lettie barked a laugh, and the sound sent ice through Miri’s veins. She had been shocked, surely, but Lettie did not seem ill at ease that Miri had been shoved to the floor before them, bound and at the sword of a kingsman. Lettie gestured at the throne room they’d spent so many days in as children. “Captive?” Her tone was withering. “I live in the throes of luxury. King Nicholas has been nothing but faithful to my wishes.” She shook her head, glancing at the man before her gaze came back to Miri. “The only reason I’m trapped in this keep is because of the threats to my life and my safety. If not for the queensguard wanting me dead, I could leave.” She frowned. “You know well I never cared much for travel, but there are so many who still wish me murdered. To end the line. Honestly, Myrina, why go among the rabble at all? Here, I am treated like a queen.”

  Miri stared at her, the stranger who was no stranger at all. Nothing she said made sense, not the way she spoke or how her hand floated to brush against Augustus’s. Nicholas watched, as if the scene were somehow pleasant, and Lettie’s words repeated in Miri’s head. She thought the queensguard wanted her dead. Her sister, her own blood, had been fooled by a traitorous king. He’d convinced her that she could not leave the keep for her safety and that at his son’s side, she would be protected and treated like a queen. Miri’s voice came as strong and insolent as when they’d fought as children. “You are a queen, Leticia. You are the daughter of the Lion and the last of our blood. You will rule.”

  “I’ll let you make the order, dear princess.” Nicholas’s voice was low, the words for Lettie nearly sounding kind. “She is your sister, after all.”

  “Treason?” Miri spat, aware that the entire charade was the king’s way of buying time. She could not bring herself to stay silent, though, even if Cass and the others had.

  Fury boiled through her, but Nicholas only directed his gaze toward Lettie. “It is unfortunate she’s chosen to ally with the men who want you dead.”

  “They are queensguard,” Miri said. “They are sworn to protect you.”

  Lettie scoffed, her gaze trailing over Cass. “You brought a bloodsworn into this throne room, Myrina? After what they have done? And have the nerve to say I am his queen?” Her shoulders somehow became straighter. “If what you say is true, then his loyalty is to me. He owes nothing at all to you.” Lettie glanced at Cass. “Kill her.”

  There was a moment of silence, then she shouted toward the queensguard and the bloodsworn at the back of the room. “Drop your weapons. Let the sorcerers go!”

  Miri felt a moment of panic, that Lettie was right, that the queen’s word was law. But Lettie was not truly queen yet, not until her name day. Then it would be true.

  “Do you see, sister?” Lettie hissed. “They do not follow my command. They never have.”

  Lettie would not be queen. Nicholas would never let her. But if Cass and the others freed her, she could in a matter of weeks claim her throne. They would be under Lettie’s command, whether they agreed with her orders or not. Whether she believed she’d been misled for years, that she was wrong about everything. It would be Cass’s duty to follow her word, the same for all of the queensguard and for Miri—except they had sworn a vow and made a promise to a greater queen.

  “Our mother is dead, Leticia. At this man’s hand.” Miri’s voice rang like steel through the room, her target clear. Nicholas had orchestrated the death of their mother, betrayed the bonds between sorcerer and queen, and was well on his way to destroying the realm.

  Lettie’s brow pinched. “No, sister. Rebels killed our queen, just like the men you’ve brought with you here. Nicholas saved me and rescued me from the same fate.” Her tone said or worse, but Miri did not argue details. Nicholas’s hand had twitched more than once in the moments that had passed. Miri was out of time. She needed Lettie to see.

  She tried to shift forward, fighting the grip that held her in place and struggling with her gradually loosening bonds. “They deceived you, Lettie. Killed our mother, the last queen, and freed the sorcerers from her bonds. What do you think they will do to you after the festival of moons, on your name day?”

  Lettie’s head gave a small, irritated shake. “You know this. The entire kingdom knows this.” Her gaze shot to Nicholas, somewhere between apologetic and incredulous. “I’ll be presented at the prince’s side as future queen.”

  Miri felt bile rise in her throat. Her sister planned to let Nicholas continue his rule, as if she and Augustus would become king and queen upon his death. As if Lettie would have any power. As if she would live that long. Gods, she thought they would be celebrating her name day with a wedding announcement.

  “No,” Miri said, emotion nearly choking her. “That’s not it at all. They’ve rounded up the sympathizers to kill on the square. They’re in cells just as we speak.” Henry was there too. Henry had been locked up beneath Lettie’s nose, accused of treason by a man who was no king at all. Miri’s tone went hard, her patience gone. “Lettie, they plan to kill you. Before you bear the blood of a queen.”

  Lettie’s breath came out in a huff, a broken laugh, but the confidence she had worn was suddenly thin. Her cheeks colored just the slightest bit, but she did not look at the king or his son. She did not let on that she believed their deception. Lettie was not going to relent before it was too late.

  “I watched our mother die,” Miri said in a whisper. “I watched these men murder her, watched as her blood boiled from her own body at the hands of the sorcerers.”

  “No,” Lettie said. “That’s not true.” Her voice was broken, evidence of the panic that rose in her, but she had apparently never conquered her baser instincts. “Do it,” she ordered the kingsman beside Myrina. “Kill her now.” Lettie stepped forward, her graceful fingers trembling at the end of her slender arms. “By my order!”

  Miri closed her eyes and drew in a shaky breath, heartsick. She had lost her sister in a single command. After all they’d been through, she’d lost her to a king who was no more than a treacherous lord. But no, she remembered, Lettie had not been lost. She’d been stolen.

  Anger rose in Miri swift and hot, and she bit down hard, jerking her bonds to reach beneath her jacket to the well-worn hem and her mother’s locket. She ripped the metal free, the tearing sound loud in the open space, and spread her palm for Lettie to see. “Tell me, sister,” Miri hissed, “if this is my lie, then how is it that I hold her locket? How could I have pulled it from her neck after she bur
ned?”

  Lettie stared at the locket, her entire body gone still. The expression that washed over her features turned Miri’s stomach. She’d seen it before, a thousand times, yet as impossible as it was to believe, it was far more impossible to deny. It was an unbearable truth, the last thing she expected from Lettie.

  The locket clattered to the floor. The realization was worse than anything Miri might have imagined, worse than any nightmare.

  Miri grabbed the dagger she had hidden at her waist, wrenching her arms free from the last of her bonds with a tearing of flesh to slam the hilt to metal before the guards had a chance to stop her.

  The clash was quick and loud and seemed to end all other noises from reaching Miri’s ears. Horror flooded her, worse than drowning in a frozen sea. The locket their mother had forced upon her had not been a token at all or a reminder of Miri’s vow. It had been evidence against the queen’s betrayer.

  Miri stared down at the broken pieces, her torn wrist dripping blood where she’d destroyed the only thing she held dear, all that was left of her mother.

  Among the bits of busted metal, anyone could see the blood, aged from its time inside. Miri remembered now that she’d not seen her mother remove it from her neck. It had been given to her by Henry when he’d found out and he’d come to warn them.

  All she could think of was the fear that had crossed her sister’s features at the sight of it. It was fear that said she knew where the locket had been and how it had been taken from her mother’s neck. It was fear that said Lettie was guilty of more than falling for sweet words and empty promises.