Masked (Royally Hot 2)

The guard who was holding me hostage tightened his grip and I felt the dagger tip pierce the skin of my stomach, and I knew that this was all too real. Beyond where we stood, I could see a portion of the crowd. I’d never seen so many people—I didn’t know so many people even lived here. But even still, even with all those faces, it was only Randal that mattered to me.

He drew a sword from its ceremonial sheath, holding it high, menacing the guard from above with his strength and height.

“Get the fuck away from her,” he said, taking a few strategic steps closer, always keeping the tip of the blade steady in the air.

The queen stepped forward, positioning herself between Randal and me.

“Careful, little brother,” she hissed. “I know how much you want her. And I know it will kill you to lose her.”

Randal spat hard. “Brother? We’re not family, Patara, and for the first time in my life I’m pleased about that. Let her go. This is between you and me.”

The queen snorted. “Of course I’m not going to let her go. Do you really think I’m about to give up such a prize without getting anything for it?”

“Randal is king,” said the old man standing beside him. “Give it up, Patara, and by the grace of his majesty, perhaps you can still save your own skin.”

“Doubtful,” muttered Randal. His eyes moved past the queen, softening as he looked at me. He said nothing out loud, but I heard the words. They hung there between us like a mist. You are fucking mine. And I will protect you. “But probably worth a shot. It’s your only chance, after all.”

Queen Patara snorted, clasping her hands behind her back, facing away from me. I watched her slip a small, narrow dagger from between the folds of the back of her dress. Its hilt was disguised as decoration, covered with black pearls. With one hand she palmed the hilt and then backed up into me, so that now two blades pressed into me.

I met Randal’s gaze, swallowing hard. “She’s got a knife to my stomach.”

The blade turned clockwise, creating a tear in my skirt.

“I’ve got a knife to your womb, you little whore,” the queen snapped.

Randal’s nostrils flared and his face flushed red with anger. “Let her go. Right this fucking second.”

The queen tsk-tsk-tsked. “This is how it’s going to go, Randal. I control the guards; I control the castle. You and Lord Aaron are outnumbered and the throne is rightfully mine. Do you think I haven’t been preparing for this day since we were children?” She laughed. “Fool. You thought we were truly friends? What a joke. Siblings, yes, but never friends. I knew exactly who you were and knew exactly what I needed to do. Get us free of my father, marry your father, become queen. Nobody can ever hurt me again. I know you, Randal, and don’t you forget it. You’re my brother, like it or not. You think it was a coincidence you walked in right when my father was about to put his hands on me? I know how you think and I know how to beat you. You’ve been a pawn in my game since the day we met.”

The dagger pressed into my belly and I cried out involuntarily.

“What the fuck do you want?” Randal asked. “Staging a coup is one thing, you bitch. But what’s your end game? I’m still very much alive, if you haven’t noticed, despite your attempt to send assassins after me and Iris. And the crown is on my head.”

The queen shifted the hilt of her dagger slightly in her hand, palming it more firmly, and backing up into me one more inch. It hadn’t cut me yet, but it was close… so very, very close.

I shuddered and suppressed a cry. “Please, please don’t…” I pleaded, my voice shaky and crackling.

I could see just enough of her face to tell she was smiling. What a terrible, terrifying human being she was.

“This blade has been laced with poison. All I have to do is nick her skin to get what I want.”

Instinctively, I sucked my stomach in as far as I could, but it would never be enough. If she wanted to kill me, she would.

Randal positioned himself slightly to her side, giving the illusion of space, but all the while moving closer to me, circling us, forcing the guard at my side to retreat further and further from me and the queen, while the man at my back edged away, little by little. Randal’s right arm was close. If I could only grab his hand, he might be able to yank me free and get me out of there. But it was so risky. And yet, I knew I would rather die in his arms than anywhere else.