The Silent Princess

by T. A. Grey

  “Yes, my queen,” she muttered almost too quietly to hear.

  “Broderick,” the queen began. She grabbed hold of the fireplace mantle with both hands, leaning heavily on it. As if to hold herself up. “What...what’s happened? I don’t understand.”

  “I plan to find that out immediately. In fact, I should be going. I promise...I’ll learn everything that happened. Everything.” The queen took the glass of wine held out to her without looking at her. She drank it all in one swallow. When she finished, she suddenly shouted a curse and threw the glass. It cracked against the strong brick surface of the fireplace. Glass shattered, broke.

  Within moments, the maid had a dustpan and broom and moved to clean the broken shards littering the floor. The queen latched onto the girl with hard eyes. Mean eyes. The queen, while Broderick he had nothing but respect for her, as he knew her more than most people did, had a harsh temper. One which on occasion needed to be reined in.

  Still Broderick did not anticipate the queen moving so quickly. She shoved the maid backwards and took an aggressive step forward.

  Thinking quickly, Broderick stepped between them to help save the poor maid. “I will take care of the prisoners. You should drink a draught to relax, Lysette.”

  “Oh I don’t want a stinking drink, Broderick! My Remi is dead!” Once again, she trembled with anger, unable to control her emotions. Behind him, the maid, with fear in her eyes, quickly swept the glass. He didn’t know what to do to help the queen, so he tried one last thing. A hug.

  It was like a hugging a cold mannequin. Her body nearly lifeless. His heart broke for her. Remi, while a reckless young man, was the one thing she loved and adored. She’d spoilt him rotten with it too. Nevertheless, she’d loved him. All because she’d cherished her sister, Rachelle.

  “Oh, Brody,” her voice broke. “He’s dead.”

  He held her until she pulled away. Still he was surprised not to find any tears in her eyes. Really, he supposed, nothing could make her cry. Perhaps she didn’t have those sorts of emotions anymore. Maybe something inside her wasn’t wired entirely correct. Who knew?

  “I need to go,” he said. She nodded. He felt awful leaving her like this. Knowing he was the closest thing to a friend she had, and how pathetic was that?

  Shaking his head, Broderick stepped back and into something soft and warm. The maid. He hit her in the shoulder, careening her off balance. He tried to grab her in time, as her frantic gaze met his, but he was too slow. She fell into a table and an antique vase on top, the design long faded, teetered before falling off the edge and crashing into the ground into dusty rubble.

  The queen sucked in a long breath. A storm coming. And it was going to be thunderous. Broderick cursed. This was not going to prove well for anyone.

  Lysette stormed across the room at the maid. Likely to smack the sin out of her. “You will pay for that with all your paycheck! Do you hear me? It’s worth more than you are! You rotten, rotten girl!” The queen yanked the maid’s braid in one fell sweep.

  “Stop that!” Broderick ordered her. This was his fault for knocking the girl over to begin with.

  The queen instantly dropped her grip. But she looked livid. Broderick ordered the maid out of the room, for which she fled immediately.

  Exhaustion weighed in her voice. “Listen here, Broderick. I want you to watch them. You hear me? The woman and that man. Watch them very closely for me. There will be justice if I have to exact it myself. Understand?”

  He could only nod.

  “Good. Now leave me.” The queen gave him her back.

  Broderick shook his head, unsure how to help his queen. So he left and searched the hallway for the maid hoping to find her. He would pay for the vase, certainly he wouldn’t allow her to pay for his mistake.

  Chapter EIGHT

  One day later

  Punch to the face.

  “Tell us...”

  Right hook.

  “Everything...”

  Hard left.

  “We want...”

  Two vicious blows to his stomach. He’d be lucky if he could pee straight after that one.

  “To know.”

  Accompanied by a left uppercut followed by a hook. A shattering combination.

  Alex felt drool slip down his chin as he was unable to close his mouth in time to catch it. His reactions were slow, everything hurt. Badly. His head felt like a bobble-head toy listlessly rolling around. His scrambled eggs for brains felt watery and spongy. The bastard enforcer hitting him hit like he got paid to do it. Dammit.

  Alex grimaced at the simultaneous explosions of pain erupting across his body. Really, where didn’t he hurt at this point?

  The Gerioux Pack’s motto for interrogation seemed to be hit first, ask questions later.

  “I already ‘old yew.” His words slurred and deformed together into a mess. He had his busted, fat lip to thank for that.

  He’d been dragged and separated from Hanna almost immediately. He knew the investigation would begin right away¸ but he’d hoped like hell he could have spoken to Hanna before all this shit started. He’d wanted to help prepare her, lecture her on what to do, what not to do. She’d never been in a hostage situation. Of course, netter had he. But only one of them had lived a violent life.

  The queen and what had to be the majority of the Gerioux Pack filled the hall where they’d dragged him to. Eyes were cast on him in disdain and utter hatred. People snarled and shook fists at him, filled with rage to kill him. The guards saw this and kept him close, tucked between them as if in a safety circle. Even as they were dragging him to the queen. Someone shoved him down to his knees. He winced as sore bones creaked against the concrete floor.

  His head scrambled, brains squishy, and eyes swollen, the thick budge of his eyelids pressed against his eyeballs. Damn it hurt and wasn’t too comfortable either. The queen was a magnificent phoenix of a woman with fiery red hair and stormy blue eyes. She looked contemptible, bitter, and very, very angry.

  “This is him?”

  The big man, some servant or special man to the queen stepped forward and spoke. “Alexander Thompson from the MacKellen Pack. We have verified his identity. He’s refusing to talk.”

  “Kill him!” a woman in the crowd shouted, shaking her fist in the air.

  “Yeah, kill him!” another joined. Soon a chorus of roars filled the hall until a deafening roar of sound rang from the rooftop.

  “QUIET!” The queen stood with her command. In seconds, the room rang pure once again. With the silence, she approached him. A delicate clinking as her heels tapped into the concrete beneath her. “You killed my Remi. Why. Tell me,” she demanded. “Why did you kill him?”

  Alex swallowed, but his throat felt like he’s swallowed razor blades. Probably from a strike to the throat he’d taken. Even the act of breathing hurt...everywhere. He made a groaning noise, and he unexpectedly began falling backwards. But the guard caught him by his wrists which they’d tied behind his back, shoving him back up to his knees.

  “Answer her!” The guard shook him. His teeth clanked, chipping somewhere near his incisor. He spat out a white broken chunk, seeing more blood than spit. Hell.

  A sparkling, bejeweled gown stepped front of him, obscured what little vision he had left. The swelling around his eyes was only increasing; soon he’d be lucky to keep his eyes open at all.

  “Do you think you can deny me what I want?” Her voice was strong. Feminine, yet commanding. A woman used to having her way. She was the alpha of this pack. He tried to remember that.

  His mind still worked, albeit far slower than usual. “Hungh?”

  Suddenly she squeezed his chin in her hand, lifting him to look dazedly into her face. Squinting, her face looked like a blur. His eyes watered from her grip. She moved his face left then right, studying him as entomologist might an insect.

  “Who is he?”

  The big man responded. “Alex Thompson.”

  “And what’s his relationship wi
th the woman?”

  “Still unsure as of the moment. The man, Thompson, hasn’t answered my questions but I believe he was hired to trail the woman.”

  “And why’s that?” the queen asked.

  “Hanna is Gavin’s younger sister. I’m sure like most brothers he feels certain paternal instincts towards her. This man is likely her protector.”

  Alex coughed, partially choking. Her protector. Yeah, right. More like a designated babysitter. And look where that had ended him up.

  “I see,” the queen drawled. “And why did he murder my Remi?” she asked to Alex. Her voice taking on a harsh undertone.

  Why had he killed Remi? Well, for one, it hadn’t been on purpose. But Alex didn’t think for one second that these people would believe that Remi died cracking his skull on that rock. Honestly, Alex didn’t know how much of Remi’s death was his fault or Hanna’s or pure accident.

  No way anyone in the pack would believe him. They were too charged emotionally, especially the queen. Remi had attacked Hanna and while Alex didn’t regret his decisions, the last thing he wanted was for Hanna to be in trouble. She didn’t deserve any of this. That bastard had attacked her, and she’d fought back. Rightly so. He was damned proud of her for that, but it was Alex’s final attack that led to Remi hitting his head on that rock. Maybe if the rock hadn’t been there...none of this would be happening. Of course, there were a lot of ‘maybes’ in life.

  Alex figured he’d better speak up before he blacked out. “He attacked Hanna.” His words were weak, but the moment he opened his mouth the entire hall hushed to hear him.

  “Shush everyone!” the queen demanded. “The murderer speaks!”

  “Y-your nephew,” Alex swallowed, wincing as his throat stretched with the effort, “is a pig.”

  A gasp spread across the room. The queen straightened with a snarl at her lips. Quicker than he could see through his blurry vision, she struck him across the face. He chuckled when pain never came. He was turning numb to it, his mind coping to the agony. She growled at his insolence.

  “Off with his vile head! I’m done with these games. He will die here, his blood be spilt in this very hall!” Her voice rose like a great tidal wave. Growing louder and higher, the strain in her voice gaining traction. People looked on in fear at her great power. Perhaps in shock at her declaration of murder.

  “My queen, just a moment,” the big man stepped in to delay Alex’s execution.

  Who knew this would be the way he’d go out. Tortured in another pack, a long way from home, all because of Hanna freaking MacKellen.

  Not happy. He was not happy.

  “Bring her here,” the queen ordered.

  “Who?”

  “The woman, of course! I want her to witness his death.”

  Guards grabbed Alex by the scruff of his neck and shoved him across the room. His eyes tried to make out faces but everything he saw blurred together into a faceless concoction.

  The bigger man, the guard whom the queen paid special attention to, was the one who put the silver collar around Alex’s neck, locking him via chains to the floor. He was chained to the ground like an animal. Awaiting his beheading.

  Christ. If today was really going to be the day of his death, then he’d go out his way. Not with Hanna here. No way. He didn’t want her seeing that. She was the alpha’s sister so Alex figured she’d have plenty of negotiating tactics in order to get home. But Alex? He was nobody. A loser. No one to call to help him. He needed to ensure her safety, even if it was the last thing he ever did.

  “I did it.” His whisper never made it to the queen’s ears. As she turned to give him her back, bristling with rage.

  Louder, he gave his plea. “I did it. I killed him.”

  Shoulders straightening slowly the queen turned around to face him, crossed the floor in her high heels which clicked across the concrete like little staccato drumbeats. Then she appeared in his face. Beautiful and menacing.

  A hiss in his ear. So harsh he could feel her breath whip across his mouth. “What did you say?!”

  He could feel the walls metaphorically closing around him. Death was near. In one form or another.

  “I said...I killed him.”

  The woman let out a gasp of agony. Almost as if hearing him admit he’d murdered Remi finally sealed her nephew’s fate.

  “Why?”

  “He hurt Hanna. Tried to hurt...Hanna.”

  Cold hands, like they’d been held in ice water for far too long, cupped his bruised face squeezing hard. Then harder until his lip burst, re-opening the old wounds.

  “Mmmph,” he groaned, face contorting in pain. He tried to jerk away but couldn’t.

  He guessed he wasn’t as numb to pain as he thought.

  The hand squeezing his face began to shake. “Bring her up here. Now! I want them both dead. Right now.”

  “My queen,” the big man tried to interject.

  “No! I am finished with all this. They will die right now. Bring her here, Broderick.”

  Her voice brooked no room for argument. They went to fetch Hanna.

  The queen left Alex, thankfully leaving him alone. Shit, this was wrong. They weren’t supposed to fetch her. They were supposed to just kill him.

  The room bristled with renewed excitement.

  There would be a beheading.

  His.

  Oh goody.

  * * * * *

  Hanna waited until her cell door opened before running at the guard. His eyes widened in surprise before she swung her hips around and performed a flying sidekick straight into his stomach. Something else she’d been practicing with the soldiers.

  The guard doubled over in pain, swatting at her with one big hand. But she maneuvered around him, ducking and evading his big paw. Then, when he stumbled towards her, gasping for breath, she kept her hands up in a fighting stance as her brothers had taught her over these past few weeks.

  She ran out the door in a scramble. Heart leaping with pounding pulse-pounding excitement and fear. And straight into the big body of the one they called Broderick. The queen’s personal servant. Or, executioner, rather.

  “Ah, there you are. I’m afraid your time’s up, little one.”

  The guard came out of her cell, still hunched. “That little bitch hit me! I want a piece of her!” he moved to grab her, pulling his other hand back to form a fist. The big man holding her jerked her away.

  “I don’t think so, Groll. Queen’s orders.”

  The man dragged her through winding tunnel ways and up misshapen, old stairs. The kind made from stone, by hand, long before drywall and wood floor became popular. Where and they taken her? Into a castle of sorts, possibly some kind of mansion. One that came with its own dungeon below. An icy chill trailed down her spine making her shiver.

  “Here we are,” the big man said.

  Hanna found herself in a sea of faces. Angry faces. At the center of it all stood the queen. Angrier than ever, yet still lovely of face. As if that changed a thing.

  On the floor, surrounded by a spray of blood, hunched on his knees was Alex. His face--Hanna had to look away. It pained her to look at. Her eyes misted at what they must have put him through. And this was all her fault. If only she hadn’t gone on this date tonight. None of this would have ever happened.

  “There she is! You, Hanna MacKellen. Tell me what happened to my Remi.”

  Hanna was shoved unceremoniously onto her knees before the queen. Alex only feet away listlessly turned his head to face her. But his eyes were swelling horribly from being beaten, he couldn’t even see her. Her heart broke. She couldn’t believe this. Somebody was dead and it looked like things were going to get worse before too long.

  Hanna did try to explain what happened. But the queen shook her head at the insinuations of Remi’s attack.

  “My Remi would never do such a thing. You liar!”

  She tried her best, really. But the queen refused to listen. Too bitter and hurt over the death of her nephew.
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  “I want both their heads. Start with the man first. I want her to watch. I want her to see him lose his head. Just like she watched my Remi die.”

  The queen sat back on her throne, fist to chin, anger crackling in her pupils.

  The one named Broderick shook his head. “My queen, if I may--- ”

  “You may not.”

  He nodded, with finality. As if he’d finally given up. Hanna wanted to squeal -- no, don’t stop now! Please don’t let her kill us! But there was nothing she could do.

  “Please,” Hanna said. “I killed him. Don’t hurt Alex. He had nothing to do with this. Please!”

  She didn’t care that Alex could hear her pathetically begging for his life. She just knew she needed to do something. Before it was too late.

  The queen stood, hands squeezing her throne’s armrests in a death grip. “Say you what, girl?”

  Alex began shaking his head side to side. “Noo—” he said, words muffled from fatty lips.

  Hanna squared herself, raising her chin. “I said that I killed Remi Gerioux. After he attacked me.” She raised her voice so all of the crowd could hear. “He made attempts to have sex with me, which I did not want. When I said no, he fought me. He was killed after I hit him and he fell down and hit his head on a rock. I don’t know if it was my doings or not that killed him. But I do know that Alex had absolutely nothing to do with it.”

  The queen listened with one eyebrow cocked like a loaded pistol. All she’d have to do was raise the other eyebrow to shoot a round through Hanna. Hanna couldn’t help but feel a moment of awe at the pure power of the queen. A female alpha--who didn’t seem to completely have her wits about her.

  “So you say. Funny enough, your friend here has already admitted to killing my Remi. It seems we have two murderers on our hands.” She smirked as if delighted by the news. “We shall have two beheadings today.” Gasps of astonishment heard round the room.

  “Begin with him. I want her to watch her friend die.” Her voice turned icy. “Much as she watched Remi die.”