Masked (Royally Hot 2)

The royal drum corps took up a rhythm as chanting spread through the masses like wildfire. Stop Patara! Stop Patara! Stop Patara! The crowd that had felt like an ocean, like a storm, turned into an angry and violent swarm. Little by little, they all began snarling together. Stop Patara! they shouted. Stop Patara!

And finally, someone, somewhere among them raised a strong voice above all the others. “Kill Patara!”

Chapter 21

Randal

All fucking hell broke loose.

A good-sized brick came flying over the parapet, nailing the more nervous-looking guard in the head. He cried out and staggered back, trying to steady himself, but the barrier that surrounded the coronation stone terrace was low, barely knee height, and he fell headfirst down into the crowd. They seized him like hungry animals, ripping him limb from limb.

I was now focused entirely on Iris.

The queen was the first problem—armed with a weapon that would require a minimum of power to inflict maximum harm. I gripped my blade and swung wide, rushing forward. She dropped the poisoned dagger as she ducked, exactly as I’d hoped.

I kicked the poisoned blade aside and kneed her in stomach, making her double over. King’s guards—my guards now—instantly took their opportunity, seizing her by the arms to neutralize her and all her goddamned venom.

Next up, the guard that had Iris from behind, her chief bodyguard.

I could see in his eyes he was fucking terrified. I would’ve given good odds he’d already shit himself or was about to.

“Listen, you motherfucker. I’ll give you one chance to let her go and flee the city. If you don’t take it, you’re fucking done. Got me?”

He got me alright. He was halfway out the goddamned door before his blade even clattered on the stone. In an instant, I had Iris safe in my arms. I pulled her into me with her face to my chest, shielding her from everything. She was back with me, where she fucking belonged. Where she was always meant to be. All thought of losing her faded away. The nightmare was over. My goddess was safe. She embraced me, shaking in my arms, howling like a terrified animal.

“I’ve got you,” I told her. “I do.”

Iris shook her head against my shoulder. As soon as she heard my voice in her ear, I felt her body relax. I pressed a kiss to her forehead, smoothing her messy hair.

“Are you hurt?”

She shook her head against my shoulder.

“No,” she said, muffled into my opulent clothing. “I’m okay. I’m okay now. Thank God you’re okay, too,” she said, groaning out one last moan of adrenaline into my chest.

Still keeping her tight in my arms, I turned to the queen.

“Alright, you bitch. I’m going to give you a choice. Either I throw you to the crowd like your man there,” I glanced over the parapet, and Patara did, too. His bloody, decapitated head bounced ghoulishly through the crowd’s outstretched arms. Pretty fucking helpful as illustrations went. “Or, I can show you mercy.”

“Mercy?” She snarled. “What the fuck does a monster like you know about mercy?”

“Time to choose, Patara.” I glanced inside the castle and saw commoners pouring through the hallways. Pretty soon, the choice wouldn’t be up to her. “Your enemy has breached the gates. If they get their hands on you, I’ll be powerless to stop them. You know what will happen. There’s probably a hundred barrels of tar near boiling, every goddamned one of them with your name on it.”

She hesitated, her mouth tight. Death was the easiest way out, but death by baying crowd was a pretty fucking awful way to go. Mercy, even if it meant a hanging, would be preferable to that.

“Mercy,” she muttered.

“Sorry? I didn’t hear that.”

“I beg you for mercy, Randal. Please. We’re family.”

“Mercy it is,” I said, pulling Iris close. I pressed a long kiss to her forehead and breathed out all the tension that had gripped me since Patara had shown her face. My Iris was alive. My Iris was safe. “Take the queen to the dungeons,” I said, and my guards snatched her up off the ground. “Make sure she’s unharmed. And weld the gate shut.”

Chapter 22

Iris

“Do you, Iris, take King Randal to be your husband, to have, to hold….” The bishop said the words, but they felt far away, like I was overhearing them across a meadow. It was okay—I knew them by heart already. I focused on Randal’s beautiful eyes, his scars, his confidence. His utter, breathtaking, heart-throbbing perfection.

Somehow, the rumor was set in place that I was Lady Iris Aaron, daughter of Giles Aaron. AS the rumor grew, most said it was common knowledge that I had always been housed at the castle, and there were several women of high standing telling anyone they met how we had all known each other all our lives, and how wonderful it was that I was now to be queen.