The Betrayed

by Kiera Cass

  “Sir, my name is Hollis East—”

  “Lady Hollis?” he asked. “How . . . why were you in Isolte?”

  “I had an urgent matter to attend to, and I return on one equally important. King Quinten has been relieved of his crown. His relative, King Etan, has taken his place only this morning. Knowing the relationship with Coroa to be of the utmost importance, he’s come to meet with King Jameson immediately. We request passage right away.”

  The guard looked between me and Etan, pausing to take in the circle of gold upon his head.

  “He will want to see him,” I insisted.

  The guard grumbled to himself a bit. “He can pass, but not that lot.” He pointed to the army behind us.

  “For His Majesty’s safety, he must be allowed some men. You know as well as I that Isoltens are not always taken to kindly. And it’s still quite the journey to Keresken Castle.”

  He sighed. “Ten.”

  “One hundred,” I countered.

  He shook his head. “I don’t need to barter with you, my lady.”

  I pulled my head high, using what bravado I could muster. “But you do. Surely you know my place in King Jameson’s life. If I am traveling with someone from Isolte, I must be secure as well.” I kept my nose in the air, my tone calm and sure.

  The guard huffed. “Twenty.”

  “Fifty.”

  He frowned. “Fifty, then. Go on.”

  Etan trotted back to the men, speaking quietly as a group of fifty was divided from the rest of the crowd. When they were decided upon, we made our way over the Coroan border. But as we passed into my homeland, I looked back at all those men who had not only stood for Etan this morning but were willing to stand for me now. I blew them a kiss, and they silently raised their swords in the air in salute.

  It looked like they had no intention of leaving until we came back with word.

  “Are you sure you don’t have a king somewhere in your family tree, too?” Etan asked.

  “What? No. Why do you ask?”

  “Because if I hadn’t known any better, I’d have taken a knee to you back there.”

  He smiled and moved to lead his men as we went to right the last wrong.

  Thirty-Two

  WE RODE OVER THE COUNTRYSIDE at top speed, only slowing when we could see the towering shape of Keresken Castle in the distance. I looked upon it with new eyes. The river where I’d lost my shoes felt like a threatening moat, the city folk more like nosy acquaintances than welcoming allies. And that castle . . .

  The place where I’d done so much living and breathing, the place where Delia Grace became my best friend and I fell in love with Silas, the place where I’d danced and slept and hoped . . . from here it looked like a cell.

  “Are you all right?” Etan asked, breaking me from my thoughts.

  I swallowed and nodded. “I’m scared to go back in there.”

  “Hey,” he said, forcing me to look his way. “You are not walking in alone. And if we can confront one king and have it end in peace, then there’s no reason why we can’t confront two.”

  I wished I could believe that was true. But I now saw Jameson the way I had always seen Quinten: If he was capable of something so cold and cruel, how could I trust him to show any mercy to me?

  We crossed the bridge and made our way to the winding road that led up to the castle. At the sight of such a gathering of men, some women who ran shops along the main street clutched the hands of their children and pulled them inside, while others looked at my face, doing double takes, unsure if they were truly seeing the woman who’d jilted their king.

  I glanced over at Etan, who seemed completely at ease, riding up to Keresken with one hand on the reins and the other on his hip, not bothering to look back at his men, but simply trusting they were behind him. So sure, so calm. I took a cue from him and pulled my posture up as we laced through the last of the town and moved toward the entryway of the castle. The space that had been filled with carriages the night Silas and I ran was empty now, and two guards stood at the door while another two kept watch at the edges of the plain.

  They were surprised, of course, and raised their spears at our approach. “Halt!” they commanded.

  “I assure you, your king wants to meet the new king of Isolte,” Etan said, standing tall on his horse, the coronet shining in the setting sun. “Stand aside. I have an urgent message for His Majesty. And my men outnumber you, should you be foolish enough to disobey my command.”

  Chills went up my arms at his words. I watched as the guards looked at one another, unsure. After some hurried whispers, one looked forward. “The men have to stay here.”

  Etan nodded, and they let us pass. Just inside the gates, Etan and I both dismounted, tying the horses to a post. He scratched both of their noses before turning and standing tall. He held out his arm . . . and I just stared at it.

  “What? A lady needs an escort. Might as well walk in on the arm of a king,” he said, his cocky tone back in full force.

  I sighed, putting my hand on his and asked a question that I hated to ask but that my vanity demanded of me. “Don’t lie. How do I look?”

  Etan’s face instantly softened. “Absolutely radiant. Like the moon,” he said quietly. “Sure and determined, reflecting light on everyone around you, and so desperately beautiful to those who don’t even realize they’re in the dark.”

  I ran my hands over my knotted, windswept hair. “Really?”

  “Absolutely.”

  I closed my eyes and turned beside Etan to make our way into the castle. I took a few deep breaths as we walked, trying to focus my thoughts. I knew what I needed to say, but I feared none of it would come out right. I was going to give them—my parents, Silas, all those innocent bystanders—my best or die trying.

  “By the way,” Etan began as we entered the hall, our footsteps echoing in the grand entryway, “I realize I said I’d never go near an altar, and I maintain that you are an obnoxious brat . . . but I will love you to the very last beat of my heart.”

  He looked into my eyes, gaze unwavering. My breath caught for a second, but my reply had been waiting to be said for so long that it came out easily.

  “I know I said I’d never go near a crown, and I believe you are far too full of yourself . . . but I will love you to the very end.”

  We turned into the Great Hall, catching everyone mid-dinner. There were people dancing in the middle of the floor, girls looping arms around one another and spinning as Delia Grace and I had so many times in our childhood. Speaking of my dear old friend, there she was at the head table, just to Jameson’s left. She was bedecked in enough jewels to crush a man and laughing as I’d never heard her laugh before at something or other Jameson had said.

  Etan and I walked calmly into the room, pausing at the back. It only took seconds for people to take in my face and his crown. The commotion began at the back of the hall and worked its way forward. The dancers stepped aside, and shocked fingers pointed our way. Eventually it got so distracting that the music stopped from the gallery above, and Jameson finally noted us.

  He stared at us for a moment, trying to put together how two people could upend an entire room. Then his eyes met mine, searching me over to be sure.

  “Hollis? Hollis Brite, is that you?”

  Beside him, I watched all the joy in Delia Grace’s eyes melt away, and I hated knowing I was the cause of it.

  “I knew you’d come back to me,” he said in a low voice. “In the end, I knew you would.”

  Of course you did, I thought. You orchestrated it that way.

  Etan’s hand was still under mine, and he ran his thumb reassuringly over my fingers. I took a breath and let go of him.

  “Your Majesty, I would like to introduce you to His Majesty, King Etan Northcott of Isolte,” I greeted him, gesturing to Etan.

  Jameson’s eyes went wide in delight. “Are you telling me the old man finally died? And Hadrian as well?”

  “Prince Hadrian died thi
s morning,” I informed him. “The former king was deposed by his highest-ranking relative and is currently imprisoned for treason.”

  Jameson leaned his head back and laughed. He laughed.

  “Even better. Oh, Your Majesty, you are quite welcome here. Please, join in our feast! I shall have plates and chairs brought, and we can celebrate the new king of Isolte and the return of my dear Hollis.”

  Jameson nodded to the pages to snap to work. I held up a hand, and, to my surprise, Jameson stilled. He stared at me in shock.

  “Before anything else, I must speak to you,” I demanded. “There are certain actions that I must have answers for. There will be no celebration between us because there is no peace between us. And I will not dine with you without it.”

  He chuckled, tilting his head to the side. “Hollis Brite,” he said sweetly, “I have clothed you and fed you. I have commanded my countrymen and foreigners alike to treat you as a queen. I let your all-but-common head wear royal jewels.” His voice was growing louder as he spoke. “And when you rejected this kindness, when you asked to leave, I let you go without a fight. On what grounds can you possibly claim I have given you anything but peace?!”

  “Shall I say it?” I demanded, stepping away from Etan, though I could feel him walking up behind me. “Should I tell your court what you really are?”

  “And what am I?”

  “A murderer!” I shouted in a voice so strong it felt like the stones in the wall shook.

  The silence between us was so very charged, so painfully loud. I could feel the eyes of every single person flickering between Jameson and me, desperately curious about how this would end.

  “I beg your pardon?” he asked so coolly.

  In a steady voice, I said it again. “You are a murderer, Jameson Barclay. Crown or no, you are as wretched as a common criminal. And you ought to be on your knees from the weight of your shame.”

  Someone near me swallowed.

  After a moment, the ice in Jameson’s eyes softened, and he smiled at me. “My Lady Hollis, based on your appearance, I would guess you’ve been through quite a traumatic day. I don’t know what you think—”

  “I don’t think anything. I know you had Silas Eastoffe murdered. I know you had my parents murdered. I know it was your men at my wedding, and the blood of your people is on your hands.”

  Etan’s slow breaths were right beside me.

  Jameson tilted his head again. “Because of the great love I’ve had for you, I am willing to let these false allegations against me die. But I warn you, any more lies, and I will not be so generous.”

  “They. Are not. Lies,” I insisted calmly.

  “Where’s your proof?” he asked, spreading his arms wide. “I am willing to bet I have far more incriminating evidence about you than you do about me.”

  He signaled to one of the holy men, standing near the door to his chambers. “Bring me that parchment on my desk with the gold seal.” Jameson looked back to me before darting his eyes over to Etan. “And my sword, too,” he called after.

  “You were the only one in all of Coroa or Isolte who acknowledged their deaths and my widowhood,” I continued, ignoring his little show. “Because you were the only one who knew. The sole person who made it out of the room was my sister-in-law, Scarlet. And that was only because my hair looks closer to Isolten blonde than Coroan brunette. The men who took down our guests were wearing silver rings, the rings of Coroan nobility. The men who killed my family are probably standing in this room.” My voice started to shake, my anger and sorrow mixing into something bigger than I could hold.

  “Breathe,” Etan whispered.

  I did.

  “This is all circumstantial, Hollis. It proves nothing.” He said it all with such composure, as if he’d known this day might come, and he’d had this speech prepared. “If anyone here has cause for wielding accusations, it’s me. And if anyone here has broken a law, it’s you. Because, unlike you, I have things in writing. I have proof that you, my lady, never should have gotten married at all. Seeing as you were already married to me.”

  Thirty-Three

  THERE WERE GASPS AROUND THE room, but I stood there unmoved, as I knew this to be a magnificent lie. A second later, the holy man reappeared. In his hands, he held two things. The first, a rolled-up scroll with a golden seal. The second, a sword. But it wasn’t any old sword Jameson had in his vast collection. It had a golden blade and jewels encrusted in the hilt.

  He meant to threaten me with something made by Silas’s hand.

  “Do you know what this is?” Jameson asked with a smirk, holding up the scroll.

  I had no answer.

  After a short silence, he broke the golden seal and opened it, showing a very long document with several signatures on it.

  “Hollis, I wanted you for my bride from very early in our courtship. I knew you would be mine. But you were so green, so rough, that I understood it would take time to make people come around and see you as I did.” He laughed. “Look at you now! Even in such a state, you look ready for a throne, regal and shining like the sun.”

  “I am not the sun,” I muttered, but he ignored me.

  “I had to have you. But seeing as the law made us wait, I bent the law to me. Your parents were kind enough to oblige.”

  My heart stopped beating. No. No, they couldn’t have.

  “I’m sure from there you might not be able to see the date on this,” Jameson said, “but if we look right . . . here.” He pointed to a line. “Why, what’s that? Oh, it’s the date of Crowning Day.”

  “What is that thing, Hollis?” Etan asked quietly.

  “A contract. My parents signed me into a betrothal. They’re formal, complicated, and the only one who can void them is the king,” I said, looking over to Etan, feeling absolutely defeated. “According to that paper, I’m married to him. I’ve been married to him since the night I ran away.”

  “There you have it, Hollis,” Jameson said finally. “You are mine. And now you will be made to yield to the law. And you will take your place beside me . . . as I always said you would.” He turned to Delia Grace, who’d been sitting there quietly this whole time. When she stayed there gripping the arms of her chair in shock, he said, “You can go.”

  After watching her be repeatedly degraded through the years, I felt the deepest shame that her most public humiliation unwittingly came at my hands. For better or worse, Delia Grace had been my sole companion for most of my life, and she had a measure of my love no one could steal.

  Her tears fell silently as she rose from her seat, curtsied to Jameson, and walked to the side of the room. In an unexpected act of kindness, Nora was waiting off to the side with open arms, embracing her as she came down. Delia Grace stood there, facing the wall as Nora held her, trying to hide her face from the crowd.

  “Anytime, Hollis,” he said, gesturing to the space beside him.

  Here I was, being commanded by the king to take my place beside him, a place my parents, in their best hopes, secured for their only daughter. Oh, their rage when I refused to go back the palace with them made so much sense now. What else could they have done?

  “Move, woman.”

  I heard Etan growl beside me.

  “I am giving you a command, Hollis Brite!”

  And it was that, his third refusal to address me by my married name, that made me snap. I stared down that wicked man and held my head high. “You’ll find my name is Hollis Eastoffe now, and that I am a citizen of Isolte. You do not command me. I never have and never will belong to you!”

  Jameson was standing there behind his massive head table, all alone.

  “Hollis, I want to be a good husband to you. Generous, kind. But you are not setting us up for a very happy marriage.”

  “I don’t want to be married to you!” I shouted.

  “But you already are!” he screamed back, the veins in his neck and temple bulging grotesquely as he slammed the scroll onto the table. “So I suggest you behave.”<
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  “And what if she simply refuses?” Etan asked calmly. “As a king in my own right, I can offer this lady a level of protection in my court it seems she will be lacking in yours.”

  “Who are you to speak to me?” Jameson asked.

  Etan, undeterred, replied. “I just told you. A fellow sovereign. And if the way you casually dismissed that young lady,” he said, tipping his forehead at Delia Grace, “is any indication of how women are treated in your court, I will take Lady Hollis Eastoffe home with me now.”

  Jameson raised his sword—Silas’s sword—and pointed it at Etan. “Is this usurper what you would leave me for?” he bellowed.

  “I would leave you for a pauper,” I replied spitefully. “You are a murderous coward, and I will not be your wife.”

  He stood on his chair. “It is done!” he insisted. “You cannot fight it. You cannot fight me!” He climbed up over the table, preparing to come at Etan and me in his rage.

  Etan drew his sword, but it made no difference.

  For as fast as it all happened, the moment itself felt drawn out, as if I could see each piece fall into place almost before it occurred.

  Jameson, in his anger and urgency, lost his footing as he jumped from the table. He tripped, dropping his golden sword. The setting sun glinted across the blade as it fell, and all I could think was that Silas’s work looked lovely, even when it was tumbling. The sword landed on its hilt, tipped up toward Jameson. And when he stumbled off the edge of his dais, his proud platform where he could survey those who worshipped him, the blade pierced him through.

  I saw the way it lined up with his body, knew that there was no way to save him from his own mistake, and I turned my face into Etan’s chest. For all the pain Jameson had wrought, I didn’t want to see any more death. I stayed there for a moment, wishing I could also block the shouts from around the room and the anguished sounds of Jameson gurgling as he died. When everything finally went quiet, I turned.

  Jameson lay there in a pool of his own blood, a golden sword through his chest.