Chapter 57

Acker twirls me, and my skirts flare, whipping around my legs when he hauls me into his body. His eyes are illuminated, cheeks flushed from the wine as he stares down at me, kissing me. The arm banded around my back keeps me anchored to him as we move across the dance floor.

He's warm and smells divine, like the sweetness of fresh rain and pine. I savor it, wishing we had more time. I'm regretting not seeking him out earlier in the day, but I think it would have made it worse, made the betrayal all the more sharp. More bitter, biting.

The music is mesmerizing. The notes from the string quartet float along the floor and up the walls to the mirrored golden ceiling, cascading from above, encompassing the entire room. It creates an emotion I can't name, but it might simply be because I'm full of too many of them to count.

It's late into the dinner celebration. The children have been sent to bed. Hallis followed not long after, just as Beau said he would. He tolerates these dinners at best. The wine has endlessly been flowing into cups, the drink's potency evidenced by the cheery and reddened faces of the leftover courtiers.

But Acker? He's happy. There's an easy smile on his face I haven't seen as often since being at court. It hurts to look at, but I can't find it in me to look away knowing I may never get to see this side of him again. I may never lay eyes on him after this night. If I even make it out alive…

The king has spent the night on the dais, watching his congregation with a man at his side. Every time I dare a look in his direction, he seems to grow more and more agitated by the cheery atmosphere and laughs of his people.

The song ends on a flourish and cheers erupt. Signaling for a break, the band disbands with bows and promises to return. Maidservants flood in with decanters of more wine, refilling every glass available.

Acker shares a laugh with one of the other men on the dance floor, a self-deprecating comment about his drunken footwork, then leads me by the hand to the dais. The king, like the petulant child he accused Acker of being, sits sullen at the table. I watch as he holds his goblet while the maidservant fills it. He never so much as looks at her, just gulps down his replenished wine.

Acker pays him no mind as he falls into his chair, dragging me into his lap with him. "I love you," he says, placing a kiss on my exposed shoulder. It's chaste but somehow heated with promise.

It's difficult to not be infected by his splendor. "You're drunk."

The maidservant who was making her way down the table stops before us, filling Acker's cup.

He picks up his drink. "Am I not allowed to celebrate with my future wife?"

I take the drink from his hand before it reaches his mouth. "Okay, I think you've had enough," I say, smiling.

"Jovie," he says, suddenly appearing sober, eyes clearing of their haze. "I'm not drunk."

I'm stunned into silence, heart pounding in my chest as I search his earnest gaze. "Acker," I say, mentally searching for how to respond, shaking my head with an unsteady smile. "You haven't even asked me."

He runs his thumb in the crook of my elbow, sending goose bumps across my skin. "I'm asking. Will you marry me?"

I couldn't think of a worse question at a worse time. There's no containing the tears welling in my eyes. He thinks they're from overwhelming emotions as he looks at me with so much adoration and love that I'm convinced I'm going to be sick.

I'm not crying with joy. My heart is breaking, just as Beau told me it would.

"Acker," I say, voice shaking. "I never thanked you for everything you've done for me. I would still be in my tiny shiel in the furthest reaches of Alaha if you hadn't come to save me."

His eyes remain steady as I fumble through my thoughts.

"I love you," I tell him, steadier this time. "And I always will."

He tilts his head, eyes tightening at the corners. "Jovie," he says, gaze questioning, tone edged with suspicion. "What is it you're not telling me?"

As if on cue, one of the nobles stumbles from his chair, words slurring as he fights to get them out. "Poi…son." He takes two more steps before hitting the ground on one knee, eyes fuzzy as he spits out the word. " Poison. " Then he loses the fight, hitting the marble floor face first with a sickening crack.

Acker looks at me in alarm, but he's swift to put the pieces together, eyes landing on the cup I wouldn't let him drink out of. Standing, I move until my thighs hit the table.

The congregation is alarmed but sluggish as they all fight the inevitable battle. Plates hit the ground, the food splattering. Red wine coats the white floors, so stark against the white, like a preamble for the blood that will flow.

Acker sits forward, but it's too late. The mangi collar I retrieve from the folds of my dress and snap around his neck isn't enough to stop him, though. That's why Beau is there to whip the metal rope around his ankles, anchoring him to the chair. He growls as she snaps the other half around one wrist then the other, but the damage has been done. The spurs of the rope dig into his flesh, blood welling around the indentions.

He looks to his father, who's unconscious and slumped in his chair, then to the expanse of the now quiet room. Everyone is collapsed and motionless. The sound of shuffling feet and metal is loud in the otherwise silent room as the soldiers make a move toward the dais. I don't move from my spot in front of Acker, more afraid of him than twelve men.

I hold Acker's stare.

His eyes are blazing mad, neck and muscles straining against his binds, against the stones around his throat. I wait as the footfalls come closer, closer, closer. The helmeted soldiers encroach on my position, feet pounding as they reach the bottom step of the stage.

The second.

The third.

Then, when they're a single step away, Acker speaks. "Yield," he demands, and the men freeze in their tracks .

A grin tugs at the corner of my mouth. Whether it's of his own accord or the oath's, it makes no difference. I'm slow to turn my head, but I look over my shoulder, eyes zeroing in on the one man I recognize underneath the palace's uniform, his familiar shoulders and frame near the back of the group of men waiting for the killing orders from their prince.

"Messer," I call.

I can see his smile underneath the slit of the helmet a split second before he moves. He slices through the neck of the man in front of him, and the soldier falls to his knees with a howl, hands straining to stop the flow of blood squirting from his jugular.

The rest of the soldiers turn to handle the threat coming their way, but it's no use. Messer cuts them down one after another. The swing of his blade is a practiced work of art, smooth and precise. Bodies hit the marble with loud clattering of metal. They're all dead within minutes.

Messer places his blood-soaked sword on the table and removes his helmet, pushing his sweaty hair out of his face, and breathes out with a smile. "B," he says. "Finery suits you."

I roll my eyes at his teasing and turn my attention back to Acker. Nostrils flaring with every breath, he doesn't speak. Doesn't need to. The revulsion and loathing as he stares back at me are loud enough.

Swallowing, I push the leftover plates and cutlery out of the way then sit on the tabletop. "Acker."

He jerks in his chair, sending rivers of blood sliding down his wrists, but his eyes never falter. They're weapons of their own.

My eyes shoot to Messer and Beau. I need to gather myself before I continue. The pain lancing through my lungs intensifies with every breath. The only way I'm going to get through this is if I trap it within myself.

Beau nods at me in encouragement.

Ignoring the wound inside my chest, I return my gaze to Acker. "I have an offer for you."

There's a coldness creeping into his features I never wanted to be on the receiving end of, but I continue as if I'm unaffected.

"Seize your father's crown, and we'll leave your council untouched."

He doesn't so much as blink in the face of my proposal. "Why would I care to usurp my own father?" he asks with a chilling calmness.

I shrug like the answer is obvious. "To prevent the war looming over your people."

A smirk graces his face, replacing the coldness with something even more sinister—callousness. "Mighty big promise from a lowly girl who lived in squalor in Alaha."

His words are meant to hurt, but I return his smirk with one of my own. "You were so dead set on Wren being evil, on Kai manipulating me, that you never considered the real truth," I say, bracing my hands on the table, leaning forward for him to see the guile in my eyes. " I am the bad guy."

His eyes shutter, but he recovers quickly. "Is that what you tell yourself?" he smarts back. "That you're the real leader of the Alaha rebellion?"

"I'm here, aren't I?"

I jerk my dress above my knees, crossing my legs to reach the straps of my heel to unbuckle the shoe, letting it fall to the floor. Looking up, I'm unhurried as I do the same to the other shoe, knowing I'm giving him an indecent view. He clenches his teeth but doesn't look any lower than my neckline.

"Contrary to your belief, Acker, your father is the one calling for war." Sliding from the table, I call my dagger, inspecting the black blade in my hand. "He wants to finish what he started centuries ago, to gain rule over all of the territories."

Eyes shifting to the weapon, he tightens his hands into fists. The blood falls from the arms of the chair in steady drips.

"Surely you see it," Beau says from over his shoulder. "Our father's need to control the gifted, his desire to return the land to the dark ages when Heirs were worshiped like gods."

He huffs a humorless breath of laughter. "Like how I saw my sister and match betraying me while they were right under my nose?" he says, voice dry. "Can't say that I have."

Beau and I share a look. This is going to be as difficult as we expected. Revealing the truth about his mother may hurt us in the end if he doesn't concede.

"Here's the deal, Acker," I say, twirling the dagger, mimicking the movements I've witnessed him perform countless times. "Your father is withholding the Market with the intention of forcing Alaha to return to land. I suspect he's been picking off our fishing boats for years, chipping away at our food supply, and we gave him the perfect excuse to cut us off without blame from the conclave. Wren denied Roison's bid to join their cause out of preference for peace, but he'll soon be out of options. It's either join the fight or let his people starve."

"If you sympathize with their plight so much, why don't you let them into Maile territory?" he says.

"Oh, we will," Messer chimes in with a placid smile. "The young and old and whoever doesn't want to fight."

This unsettles Acker, his already strained muscles beginning to tremble with his barely contained rage. He's fighting the bonds along with the collar. It's not a matter of if he'll break free of Beau's hold, but when.

"But you can prevent it," I say, drawing his attention. "Take the throne. Agree to coexist with Roison, with my mother, and no war needs to be had."

He narrows his eyes at me, confusion marring his handsome features for a moment before it's gone. "You could have accomplished all of that and more by ruling by my side."

A painful lump forms in my throat, and I swallow to speak past it. "Not while your father holds the throne, and you know it."

Shaking his head, he says, "You should have played the long game."

"As your whore?"

The realization flashes across his face.

I nod. "You know as well as I do he'll never agree to you taking my hand. He wants me to play the same role Greta has, and I refuse to be a prisoner to the matching bond, to be forced to wear a collar and never allowed to leave."

He looks at me with unfiltered disgust. "You'll always assume the worst of me."

"You're wrong," I say, shaking my head, hating the emotion peeking through. "I'm offering you the throne because I know your heart. You deserve the crown."

Tilting his head, he stares at me for a moment before abject horror fills his face. "Jovie. No. "

I don't have the heart to answer him, knowing he'll never be able to forgive me either way. Acker, sensing what's coming, yanks on the rivets. The metal rattles in Beau's grip, and I know he's on the verge of escaping.

"After all your talk of Wren wanting ultimate power and women sitting at his feet," I say under my breath, desolate, "it's a shame you can't see your father for who he is."

Messer speaks from behind me. "You would think his father was the one who held the power of influence and not Wren."

It's meant as an offhand comment, but Beau and I share a wide-eyed look.

" Black ," she whispers.

My face goes slack with the realization.

"We don't have a lot of time," Messer warns.

I brace my hands on either side of Acker. "The day I arrived at the palace," I say, "when I was kneeling, I couldn't stand. At the time I chalked it up to nerves, but I think I was wrong. I think your father influenced me to remain on my knees before the congregation."

"You're reaching," he says. "My father's gift is the same as mine."

"Except the oldest record Greta found states it's not," I say, hoping he sees the truth in my eyes. "It's fire."

He's taken aback, eyes flaring in surprise before he conceals it.

A woman's yell peals through the hall. The maidservant takes one look at us on the dais, the prince captured and the king indisposed, and runs back out of the room.

Time's up.

Pushing from Acker's chair, I stand. The weight of my dagger feels heavy in my hand as I look at the king.

Messer holds out his hand. "Let me do it, B."

I shake my head. "Do you decline my offer to seize your father's throne?" I ask Acker, already knowing the answer.

He doesn't respond, eyes glacial, not a hint of the man I fell in love with. Beautiful and deadly, I mourn him already, and he's right in front of me.

I look at Messer. "Give the order."

He nods and sticks two fingers in his mouth to signal the waiting Maile soldiers with a piercing whistle. The three men emerge from the shadows with one goal in mind: find the fifteen nobles and eradicate them.

I leave Acker, focusing on my singular task at hand: kill the king. Drool falls from Edmond's mouth, pooling onto the table. All that authority, but at the end of the day, he is nothing but a man. Grabbing his hair, I tilt his head back to expose his throat, bringing the sharp end of my dagger to his throat. I press—

Acker's voice stops me. " Wait. "

I don't move, only shifting my eyes to look at Acker through my lashes.

"You owe me a life debt," he says through clenched teeth.

It takes me a moment, but I figure out what he means.

Kai.

He didn't kill Kai despite having every right to do so…because I begged him not to. Commotion sounds as Kenta soldiers flood the room, but I hold Acker's gaze. I came here with one goal in mind, but if I fulfill it, it might make me as evil as the man I've always hated.

I switch my attention to Beau. She's struggling to maintain her hold on Acker, teeth bared in concentration. As difficult as this has been for me, I can only imagine her plight in betraying her own flesh and blood.

"Where's the king's magic? Can you see it?"

She pants between breaths. "The right side of his chest. Near his shoulder."

I don't think as I lift my arm and bring the dagger down in the assumed area.

"Again," Beau yells.

I do it again but harder, shoving the blade to the hilt. And I feel it, the hum of magic dying against the dark blade before going still inside the king's chest. It could possibly be a fatal wound if they don't get a healer to him fast enough.

I dare a look at the Maile soldiers fighting off the onslaught of Kenta men. They continue to file in, and it's only a matter of time before they overwhelm the three fighters. No, four—Messer is within the fray.

Stalking toward Beau, I hold out my hands. "Give me the rope."

She shakes her head. "He's going to kill us as soon as he's free."

"He can't harm me," I remind her.

She looks at her brother, the barbs buried so far into his skin the metal isn't visible past the torn flesh and blood. But none of that stops him from creating more and more slack in the binds.

"Go," I tell her. "Get Messer and get out. I'll meet you when I can."

She's reluctant but hands me the rope, sparing her brother one last glance before descending the dais and into the madness. I don't bother maintaining the tension on the rope necessary to keep Acker contained. The best thing I can do for my friends is to get Acker as far away from this as possible, and there's not a doubt in my mind who he's going to come after first—me.

Like a monster unleashed from his cage, Acker stands with a wicked stillness. Blood spills to the ground, splattering across my skirt and bare feet. Although I know he can't hurt me, I'm terrified.

I turn and run. I'm equally relieved and frightened by the sound of his shoes hitting the floor behind me. I escape through the inlet the maidservants take from the kitchen. The hall is narrow as I turn the corner and take the staircase down two steps at a time. He's faster than I am, and his footfalls echo too close for my liking. Too close, too soon.

I've just entered the kitchen when I'm swept off my feet. I scream. I can't help it. Fighting with all my might, I throw my elbow back, angling my body to shift his hold. None of it works. He grabs me by the back of my hair and throws me into the wall, catching me by the throat before I can get my feet steady underneath me. His hand is wet against my jaw, but it doesn't help to dislodge the punishing grip of his fingers.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see a panther appear at the top of the stairs. Messer releases a snarling yowl as he pounces forward. I lift my hand at my side, signaling him to refrain from attacking, and he skids to a stop before reaching the bottom step, paws slipping on the bloody stone floors.

Acker can't hurt me.

But no matter how many times I repeat it to myself, my heart pounds tenfold inside my chest. For the first time since he realized my intentions, Acker's true emotions peak through. Heartbreak and disappointment and disbelief shadow his features, eyes shattered as he looks into my eyes.

Messer paces the stairwell, claws digging into each side of the wall as he waits.

"Acker," I murmur, desperate for him to see the sorrow mirrored inside of me.

Then he kisses me.

I open to him instantly, hungry for his connection. The bond between us is smothered by the mangi stones around his neck, and it creates a hollow feeling where the tether resides. His kiss isn't anything but a painful goodbye, but I take what he's willing to offer me. I submit, letting him have his way as he devours me whole in one kiss.

Then it's gone, and when I open my eyes to look at him, the hate has returned with a vengeance. He slaps me across the face. I'm stunned.

Covering my face with my hand, I look up at Acker as I right myself, and he's bracing his head in his hands, face contorted in pain. He grunts through clenched teeth as blood begins to drip from his nose.

The oath is returning the favor.

"Leave," he orders, spittle flying from his mouth.

Hallis appears at the opposite end of the hall, but he doesn't come closer. I sidestep around Acker, the shock of his strike still hot on my skin. I keep my eyes on him, and Messer does the same with feline grace, lifting his upper lip and showing Acker his elongated teeth as he passes.

Acker shouts. "Go! Before I kill us both."

My chest caves as my heart finishes cleaving in two.

I leave him and don't look back.