Masked Prince (Fated Royals 2)

“And the body?”

The queen laughed. “A servant girl. Don’t worry, she had no real family to mourn her. In a way, you could say I did her a favor, giving her someone to grieve for her loss.”

Randal’s 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.

Queen Patara clasped her hands behind her, with her back still to 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, decorated 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, bastard boy. I control the guards; I control the palace. I control your father and the throne is rightfully mine. Do you think your country could have had peace all these years if not for my family’s backing? I hold the real power here, and don’t you forget it.”

Randal’s father, the king, began to protest, but as soon as he did, he too was seized by one of the Queen’s Guards. The guard placed his blade directly to the king’s throat. Steel pressed into paper-thin skin.

“You think I give a shit if you garrote me,” the king grumbled. “I’m a dead man already. You’d be doing me a favor!”

The set of Randal’s jaw told me he was furious. The situation was slipping out of his control and he wasn’t going to stand for it.

“Father,” he said.

That one word, that one firm word, diffused his father’s anger instantly. For the first time, I could see what had been staring me in the face all along. Randal was destined to lead. I’d chosen to call him my King, because that’s what he’d always been, through and through. He could control a situation with a single word. His strength and power were mesmerizing to everybody around him. Even the king himself. Even, it seemed, to the queen.

“What the fuck do you want?” Randal asked the queen. “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.”

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 sliced into 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.

“You leave or else I kill her,” the queen said. “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. I felt like a skeleton, like my stomach might touch my spine.

Randal created a few more inches of space between him and the queen, positioning himself slightly to her side, giving the illusion of space, but all the while moving closer to me. His right arm was closest. 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.

“Fine. Let us leave together,” Randal said. “Iris and I will leave right now, and you’ll never see us ever fucking again.” He reached out his hand to me. Everything was blurry with fear, but I forced myself to focus with all my might on his thick, strong hands. Slowly, very slowly, I slid my hand toward his, but the guard behind me stopped me, tightening his grip on my chest so much that it was hard to breathe.

Queen Patara narrowed her eyes, making the crepey skin around them tighten, and she nibbled her cheek in thought.

“No. It’s not enough. You have to die. Or else my reign will always be under threat.”

Randal growled, actually growled, like a wolf giving a warning before an attack. I knew that sound; I had heard that sound. That sound had made me scramble up that tree as a child. But the queen wasn’t so wise. She didn’t give an inch. Brave or stupid. Or both.

“All right, you’re in charge here. Let her go and you can do what you want with me,” Randal said. “Anything. String me up. Stretch and quarter me. I don’t give a fuck. Just let Iris live, Patara. Don’t come to power with her blood on your hands.”