Chapter 62

This, this was the man my father gave my hand to? This man was the one that brought down Arik's rebellion? It was a strange thing, seeing someone who looked so much like the commander, yet not. Whoever the former queen of Khean had found to father Magnus, it had to be someone who resembled the old king. Arik was taller, broader, whereas there was something weak about Magnus. The current king's jaw wasn't as square, his hair dirty blond rather than gold, his nose marred by the sprawling paths of broken capillaries, caused by too much drinking I was willing to bet. Most of all, it was that vicious cruelty that lived in his eyes that differentiated him from Arik. The commander might be an arrogant ass, but he wasn't a cruel one.

Most of the time.

When Magnus demanded I present myself, I went to rise to my feet, only for Roan to tug me back down.

"No, don't," he hissed. His eyes were wide and golden as he stared into mine. "I can't save you from him."

I fought his hold when Magnus grabbed Fern, then one of the other girls. My teeth locked down as I saw the red marks the king's hands left, a biting retort on my tongue, ready to be hissed at my mate, until I saw the soldiers come forward.

Carrying burning brands.

I knew what they were for. My father's men had left the castle to set fire to the fields one year when a blight tore through the crops, but there was no wheat growing stunted and gnarled right now. Only people sitting down to eat, to celebrate what bound them together.

And that's when I understood Arik.

One look at him and I saw it. Fear and anger made uncomfortable bedfellows, but there was no surprise at all. He knew this would happen, and he tried to warn us, but we'd all complacently assumed all would be well within the confines of pack territory.

And I was the most complacent of all.

"Get your hands off her…" Creed was the wolf shifter, and his beast was pushing hard for dominance, but that snarl came from Arik, not Creed.

He jerked himself to his feet, slapping his hands down onto the table to get his brother's attention. Magnus turned with a theatrical slowness as he jerked a girl dressed in one of my gowns closer. Her mates threw themselves forward, but the knights brandished their brands like a farmer might to scare predators off his land. They jerked their faces away but only for seconds. Hands became claws, fur prickled across skin, and they readied themselves to protect their mate, and that's when I felt a pang of guilt.

I'd gifted my jewel-coloured dresses to each woman to make her feel like a queen, but it'd just made them a target. His target. The knight waving the brand around chuckled in the face of the wolf shifters' ferocity, his eyes jerking up to the roof above us, made of dried logs cut and lashed together, the gaps filled with highly flammable pitch.

"NO!"

I jerked myself free of Roan's grip, standing to my feet as I injected all my mother's command in my voice. Everyone else froze as they were, all but Magnus. He let go of the girl, and there was something regretful about that. Like a cat denied its quarry, he would allow that to happen, but he would not be happy about it. So when he turned to me, his eyes burned with hatred, even though he'd never spoken two words to me. Disgust was there too, as evidenced by the way he looked me over, but most of all, triumph. Now the truth was out, he could use that against us.

And I had to believe that there was a way around that.

"You asked Arik and his men to escort me safely to Khean," I said. "They did just that."

"Shut up, Jess…" Arik hissed.

"Did they, indeed?" His eyes slid to my mates, and I wanted to jab red-hot pokers in each of his sockets for having the temerity of doing that. "Did they keep you safe, princess, satisfying your every need?"

I knew exactly what he was inferring. Every royal man seemed preoccupied with the idea of virgin brides, even as they shoved their pathetic pricks into every willing or not-so-willing hole they could find. I wasn't sure of the state of my hymen after what I'd been through, but I had to hope it was still present.

"Your men looked after me, kept me in one piece…" I added emphasis to the last two words, to make my message plain. "Something your healers can no doubt verify."

"Jess, no…" Arik growled.

"Something to say, brother?" Magnus asked. "And why would you be calling my wife, the future queen of all Khean, by a pet name?"

Arik didn't answer his impudent question, cutting straight through to the heart of things.

"What does it matter?" I'd never heard such pain in a man's voice as I did then. "None of this does. It never has. You didn't want Ariel, nor any of the princesses." He thumped his chest. "Just me. I'm the one you want to torture and kill, but you're too much of a fucking coward to actually do it."

Gods, this was not the right track to take. Magnus reared back as if slapped, his cheeks flushing bright red.

"If you want to take anyone from here, take me." He shoved his hands forward, as if readying himself for the irons to be fastened to his wrists. "Leave the women and take me."

I stared at him, studying the proud profile of Arik's face and tried to see it. The lazy-eyed prick, the arrogant bastard, but there was none of that now. He looked… regal. I could see the king he would've been if the fates had aligned. He knew what fate awaited me, and he put himself forward to be its victim.

Though I appreciated his sacrifice, I couldn't allow him to make it.

While he was being all noble, I turned to walk around the table and towards the king, because I had an idea. If the previous princesses were used to torment Arik, perhaps one could spur him forward, force him to accept his destiny. But when I went to leave, Arik stepped in my path.

"No, Jess." That big bloody idiot blocked my way, something that had me hissing in frustration. "You don't need to do this. He wants me, not you. Every princess, she's just a means to brutalise me and make clear the countries around us should never think to rise against us. I'll go, lass."

I watched his hand rise, ready to touch my cheek, and I remembered what it was like the first time. His caress had seared my skin, branding me right at the moment when I most wanted to be free, but I didn't knock it away, even though I should've. At the very least to make a show for the king and his men that I was as good and pure as my father would've told him I was. I leaned into his palm, taking the small comfort that came from that temporary harbour and my eyes fell closed before I forced myself to turn on my heel and march off the other way.

Only to find Creed and the others standing in my way.

"You're not going anywhere," Creed told me. "I promised you that. You'll be safe here. We'll go with the king, sort this out of the packlands."

"You make a lot of promises you are not likely to keep, beast man," Magnus sneered.

"You are my mate. The fates themselves decreed that we are to be together. None can separate us. None."

Creed pulled me close, and that's when I felt the massive span of his chest, the power in his arms. The way he held me, with such tenderness yet strength is what broke me. The sobs I kept stuffed down rose up, stored since the moment I donned that wedding dress and remaining unshed until now. I was helpless all over again, other people deciding my fate.

No, that wasn't right.

I could try to hide, allow Magnus to terrify each woman here, making her pay for the gifts I had given them of my own dresses. I could scream out in protest as they set fire to the dining hall's roof, watch it catch alight and burn everyone in it. I could rage, cry, stamp my damn foot, or…

They said I was to be queen of Khean. I could act like that was true and do this.

I pulled away from Creed to climb on my chair, then strode across the table, my long skirts tugging cutlery and dishes along with me. The sounds of their crashes on the ground as I landed on the other side of the table was fitting. I'd never be able to stage a rebellion, fight in a battle, or raise a sword or an arrow against this king.

But I could inspire others to do just that.

Magnus' grin was demonic, lighting his whole face up as I approached. Before I took his hand, I turned.

"I told you the conditions of the mating challenge," I said to each one of my males. "You know what you have to do. If you succeed, I will be yours forever."

And if they were unsuccessful in raising a rebellion that would result in the death of a despotic king and a new regime being installed, then I would die in a way that made what Ariel went through pale in comparison.

"Tell your men to extinguish every single one of those torches," I said to Magnus. "You've made your point. You have me, the one thing Arik wants, and that's what matters."

"You are my wife." I felt Magnus' spittle on my face as he snapped out his response. "I rule here, not you."

"Then as your wife, I advise you to douse the torches. You are reliant on the wolf shifters for their military prowess." I shot the crowd a dismissive look. "If you burn them now, you risk soldier morale and will kill many prospective breeders of sons."

He nodded slowly, letting a little flame of hope light in my breast, though he extinguished it as his hand gripped mine brutally tight.

Did my fingers break or my heart as he tugged me from the hall? I couldn't tell which, only that everything hurt. I'd tried with all I had to avoid this fate, only to rush towards it. I was reckless, silly, and naive. Being a princess didn't allow you to be anything else other than that.

But I was also determined.

As soon as we got clear of the dining hall, I jerked my hand out of his grip, forcing the king to wheel around to face me.

"I'm coming, Your Majesty," I snapped, "so there's no need to wrench my arm out of its socket." My lips twisted into a mirthless smile. "Torturers have to give themselves somewhere to go, don't they? If you break my fingers now, what will you have to do later?"

"You'll find out, girl."

It was only now I truly understood my training, because it was that which allowed me to stand perfectly still as this man snapped in my face like an angry dog. I smiled slightly, mostly because I'd managed to stop myself from recoiling in horror, but both of our attention was jerked sideways as Arik and my mates came running forward.

"Don't take Jessalyn," Arik shouted. "Take me. This was always about me!"

"And won't it hurt him more if you give me some of your men to help retrieve my belongings?" I asked Magnus.

It had to. Turning my back on my men made my chest ache violently, so I had to assume they felt the same. But in my mind, I saw that silken bag and all of its contents. I needed Arik to bring the king down, but I was not a princess from a fable, waiting in a tower for her prince to come. I had a small fortune of assassin's tools at my disposal, and it was past time I learned how to use them.

Maybe they'd rescue me, and maybe I'd rescue myself.

Magnus clicked his fingers.

"Assist the princess to gather her things," he informed one of the knights. "We leave for the capital immediately."