The Forsaken King

“What the fuck is wrong with you people? This is how you handle vengeance? With the blood of the innocent? Punish the person responsible for your misfortune—”

“And I will. That’s a promise.” He grabbed me by the arm to shove me.

I evaded it by stepping into the cabin. “I’m not a dog. You don’t need to—”

He shut the door in my face—then locked it.

SIX

Huntley

I returned the way I’d come, passing between the lit torches and ignoring the stares from the shadows. The sun had set, and the cold settled in. Everyone at the outpost would be inside having dinner with their families, but my return had shaken that normalcy.

I passed through the stone doorway and entered the cocoon of the rock, a large fire in the very center that cast off enough heat to rival the sun. I halted in front of the fire to stare at it, to watch the way the flames licked the dry wood. I was tired, far more tired than I let on, and my mind just needed a few seconds to feel nothing.

Feel nothing instead of rage. Instead of revenge. Instead of pain.

I tore my gaze away and continued to the large cabin that housed the queen. She waited for me at the long dining table, a fire in the stone hearth, the table laid out with a rack of lamb, potatoes, and a loaf of fresh bread that had just come out of the fire.

She looked at me from her seat at the table, her previous animosity absent like it’d never been there at all. Her eyes gave a squeeze, a tiny burst of emotion, something that often happened when she looked at me.

She rose out of her seat and came to me, a foot shorter in height but a mountain taller in presence. Both hands moved to my cheeks and cupped them as she admired my face, as her eyes shifted back and forth to take a good look at me. “My boy.”

My eyes dropped when the look became too much.

Her thumb brushed over my cheek lovingly before she withdrew her hands. The warmth in her eyes froze over, and her posture stiffened to steel. Queen Rolfe returned, the no-nonsense ruler who had kept us alive these past decades. “Eat. You must be hungry.”

We sat down together, and once the food was on my plate, I ate with my elbows on the table, devouring everything in silence, appreciating the taste of fresh meat instead of the stale bread and jerky that had sustained us on the long journey home. There was ale too, and while that wasn’t as good as the scotch in my canteen, it still made my stomach warm.

“Our guest is comfortable?”

“Yes.” With my eyes on my food, I continued to eat.

“Cameron will be her guard.”

“Not Cameron.”

“Why not?”

“Someone stronger.”

“Are you telling me that little thing is actually a threat?” She brought her glass of ale to her lips and took a drink. There was food on her plate, but it was mostly untouched.

“She’s good with the sword and bow.”

“Is that why you have that scar on your neck?”

I nodded as I chewed.

She took another drink. “Little cunt, isn’t she?”

“She only did what I would have done.”

“Well, she doesn’t have a sword or bow, so she’s useless.”

I’d noticed she had no experience with hand-to-hand combat. The second her weapons were stripped away, she didn’t know what to do. That was something her father had failed to teach her—and that was a mistake.

“Cameron will be suitable.”

I didn’t make another objection. As the food entered my belly, I felt better, felt satisfied for the first time in over a week. It heated me from the inside out, cleansed me of all the rage I had to keep back in my throat.

“That’s where she’ll remain until you’re ready. Unless…anyone wants to play.”

She was out of my mind the second she was gone from my sight. She wasn’t my problem anymore—for the moment.

“She’s a pretty thing…despite her eyes.”

I took a drink.

“That’ll make it hurt him more.”

“She was on her way to the Capital when I took her.”

“Probably to woo the prince into marriage. That plan will be sabotaged…along with all his other plans.”

The plate was wiped clean, and I was satisfied but still hungry.

“Eat. You think this is all for me?”

“Ian?”

“He was more interested in fucking his whore than a family dinner.” Her hand rested on the top of her glass, and she traced her finger around the edge, her eyes watching her movements. “I take no offense. He’s a man, after all.”

I ate another few lamb chops and bit into the bread smothered with butter.

She turned quiet, staring off in the distance, letting me eat without distraction. Sometimes she drank her ale, and sometimes she traced her finger, her thoughts elsewhere.

After a second serving, I was finished, my tired eyes on the fire in the hearth.