Fourteen

THERE WERE SCORES OF PEOPLE in this room, but I knew deep in my bones that he was looking for me. King Quinten confirmed my suspicions as he called out again. “Where’s that girl the Widow Eastoffe brought with her?”

It was easy for him to find me, as most people in the room turned to stare at our table and the stranger accompanying the Northcotts.

“Up on a bench, girl, so I can see you!” King Quinten commanded.

“This should be interesting,” Etan mused, offering a hand so I could climb up on the seat.

“How can you joke about this?” I hissed.

“This has been my whole life, darling. Welcome to the family.”

I trembled, taking his hand and stepping up on shaky legs.

“Yes, there you are. Lady Hollis, Jameson’s former bride.”

At that, many whispers went up around the room. Like the Dinnsmors, not everyone had heard of me yet.

“I’ve been told that, despite your many sins, your precious King Jameson wishes for you to return to the palace. I heard he burned half of it down when you left, grief stricken as he was.”

Etan looked up at me, waiting for me to explain, as this was the second time we’d heard that rumor.

But there was no explanation. It wasn’t true. There was a fire, but . . .

King Quinten riffled his fingers through his thin white beard and eyed me like a hawk stalking a mouse.

“Perhaps we should send you back to Coroa in a burial shroud,” he commented offhandedly. “Maybe the loss of his precious Hollis would finally teach him some respect.”

Murmurs of agreement came up from around the room, and, suddenly, it felt like the minority had vanished. Here, in the moment of their countrymen being killed at the hands of mine, I was the face of the enemy . . . I couldn’t imagine any room for mercy.

“I beg your pardon, Your Majesty?” I squeaked out.

“If Jameson so easily kills my people, why should I not do the same to his? Maybe I’ll finally have his attention if I take away someone he values instead of his pathetic, worthless soldiers.”

Was he trying to scare me? Was this just a joke? Jameson preferred bizarre forms of entertainment, so I couldn’t rule out the possibility. Not from the man who took my parents, who took Silas.

“Do you have a better solution?” the king posed to me.

I stood there, struggling to catch a breath. I was going to die, and I’d done nothing to stop this man. I’d failed Silas, my family, and so many others. On top of that, if he did send my corpse to Jameson, he’d probably end up inviting a war into his kingdom, not ending one.

“Say something,” Etan urged under his breath.

“Er, Your Majesty? Is it not true that the kingdom of Isolte is more than twice the size of Coroa?” I called out.