The Queen of All that Lives
Page 81
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“She also wants to burn the palace down,” Marco adds.
The news brightens Styx’s eyes. “Ah, my queen, I have explosives for days.”
“Explosives that belong to my husband.”
Styx cocks his head at my accusatory tone.
“Yes,” he says carefully. “And my own.” He leans forward. “Speaking of your husband, he’s still trying to kill me.”
“It’s a good thing he doesn’t know the extent of your depravity,” I play with the strap of my holster, “otherwise he might put more effort into it.”
“It’s a good thing he doesn’t know the extent of yours,” Styx replies.
Another good point.
“My queen, I will lend assistance to you. And when that day comes, I’ll be there to congratulate you in person.”
I need to scrub off the evil that shrouds me. I’ve never done something like this before. I wonder what my father would think. I bet he would be proud. I bet, if he were still alive, this would be the moment he’d think, she has finally understood my lessons.
I head back to my room, quietly tiptoeing back in. I shouldn’t have bothered. The lights are on, the bed still made.
The king isn’t here.
I’m alarmed and relieved and disappointed all at once. I want to see him, but I don’t want him to see me. I can’t hide nearly enough of myself from his penetrating eyes.
Rather than get into bed, I head out onto the balcony. It’s become the place I go to when my heart is all twisted up and my mind is addled.
Immediately I hear the sound of the surf.
My father might be proud of me—if he were here—but I’m filled with self-loathing. I no longer hate the king nearly so much as I hate what I have become and what I must do.
I lean against the railing for who knows how long, letting the night air wash over me. Eventually my gaze drops from the sky to the gardens.
A figure sits on one of the stone benches, his broad back facing me.
Montes.
Has he been there the whole time? What could he possibly be musing about deep into the night?
I push away from the balcony and leave our room. My shoes click down the hallway.
I want to see him, my king. Even though I’m plotting against him, and even though he’s bent and broken all wrong, I want to see him.
You see, I love him.
So much.
I can finally admit it to myself now, at the end of things. It’s been there for a while. Quite a while. I was just always afraid of it.
I stride out the palace’s back doors and head down one of the paths that winds through the garden. My steps slow when I catch sight of the king’s form. He sits next to a bubbling fountain, his forearms on his thighs, his head bent.
I am not the only weary one here.
He tilts his head in my direction when he hears my boots click against the stone, but he doesn’t turn around.
When I reach him, I touch his shoulder. “What are you doing out here?” I ask quietly.
His hand goes to my arm, like he wants to make sure I’m tethered to him. “My wife wasn’t in my bed.” He smiles wanly, his focus on the fountain ahead of us. “I’m discovering I can’t sleep when you’re not in my bed.”
I move to sit down next to him, surprised when he doesn’t try to pull me onto his lap.
“So you came out here?” I fill in.
“You’re not the only one that gets tired of those walls pressing in.”
There something frightening about the way he’s talking. The way he’s acting. I might finally understand why Montes panics when I pull away. I can feel the anxiety there, right beneath my sternum. He’s the one whose life will soon end, and he’s acting distant, and I’m pursuing him. He’s the decent one, and I’m the great evil who will destroy every last thing he holds dear.
When did our roles reverse?
He finally looks at me, and God, the look—I could live and die in it.
“Stop it,” I say quietly.
He cups my cheek. “Every time you say that, I know I’m doing something right.”
I frown, even as my eyes well with some soft emotion.
“Nire bihotza, why are you sad?”
I should be asking him the same thing.
“There’s a lot to be sad about.”
He shakes his head. “I’ve had a hundred years to be sad. I don’t want to be sad any longer. And I don’t want my queen to be, either.”
But that’s impossible at this point. The two of us have spent too long drowning in horrors of our own making.
That’s all we know—pain and bloodshed.
Montes threads his fingers through mine.
I glance down at our joined hands, and amend my earlier statement.
All we know is pain, bloodshed—and this.
And it’s this last one that will kill us.
Chapter 49
Serenity
There’s one last person I need to speak with, and he will be the one to play the most pivotal role.
I find Heinrich in his office. The grand marshal is on the phone when I enter, his voice gruff. The moment he catches sight of me, he straightens in his chair, rushing the caller off the phone.
I take a seat in one of the guest chairs across from him.
“Your Majesty,” he bows his head.
I’m struck all over again by how hardened this man is. He’s seen his fair share of carnage. I can tell he respects me, but I bet he also thinks I’m a bit naïve and disillusioned. Me with my grand speeches and rosy ideals.
The news brightens Styx’s eyes. “Ah, my queen, I have explosives for days.”
“Explosives that belong to my husband.”
Styx cocks his head at my accusatory tone.
“Yes,” he says carefully. “And my own.” He leans forward. “Speaking of your husband, he’s still trying to kill me.”
“It’s a good thing he doesn’t know the extent of your depravity,” I play with the strap of my holster, “otherwise he might put more effort into it.”
“It’s a good thing he doesn’t know the extent of yours,” Styx replies.
Another good point.
“My queen, I will lend assistance to you. And when that day comes, I’ll be there to congratulate you in person.”
I need to scrub off the evil that shrouds me. I’ve never done something like this before. I wonder what my father would think. I bet he would be proud. I bet, if he were still alive, this would be the moment he’d think, she has finally understood my lessons.
I head back to my room, quietly tiptoeing back in. I shouldn’t have bothered. The lights are on, the bed still made.
The king isn’t here.
I’m alarmed and relieved and disappointed all at once. I want to see him, but I don’t want him to see me. I can’t hide nearly enough of myself from his penetrating eyes.
Rather than get into bed, I head out onto the balcony. It’s become the place I go to when my heart is all twisted up and my mind is addled.
Immediately I hear the sound of the surf.
My father might be proud of me—if he were here—but I’m filled with self-loathing. I no longer hate the king nearly so much as I hate what I have become and what I must do.
I lean against the railing for who knows how long, letting the night air wash over me. Eventually my gaze drops from the sky to the gardens.
A figure sits on one of the stone benches, his broad back facing me.
Montes.
Has he been there the whole time? What could he possibly be musing about deep into the night?
I push away from the balcony and leave our room. My shoes click down the hallway.
I want to see him, my king. Even though I’m plotting against him, and even though he’s bent and broken all wrong, I want to see him.
You see, I love him.
So much.
I can finally admit it to myself now, at the end of things. It’s been there for a while. Quite a while. I was just always afraid of it.
I stride out the palace’s back doors and head down one of the paths that winds through the garden. My steps slow when I catch sight of the king’s form. He sits next to a bubbling fountain, his forearms on his thighs, his head bent.
I am not the only weary one here.
He tilts his head in my direction when he hears my boots click against the stone, but he doesn’t turn around.
When I reach him, I touch his shoulder. “What are you doing out here?” I ask quietly.
His hand goes to my arm, like he wants to make sure I’m tethered to him. “My wife wasn’t in my bed.” He smiles wanly, his focus on the fountain ahead of us. “I’m discovering I can’t sleep when you’re not in my bed.”
I move to sit down next to him, surprised when he doesn’t try to pull me onto his lap.
“So you came out here?” I fill in.
“You’re not the only one that gets tired of those walls pressing in.”
There something frightening about the way he’s talking. The way he’s acting. I might finally understand why Montes panics when I pull away. I can feel the anxiety there, right beneath my sternum. He’s the one whose life will soon end, and he’s acting distant, and I’m pursuing him. He’s the decent one, and I’m the great evil who will destroy every last thing he holds dear.
When did our roles reverse?
He finally looks at me, and God, the look—I could live and die in it.
“Stop it,” I say quietly.
He cups my cheek. “Every time you say that, I know I’m doing something right.”
I frown, even as my eyes well with some soft emotion.
“Nire bihotza, why are you sad?”
I should be asking him the same thing.
“There’s a lot to be sad about.”
He shakes his head. “I’ve had a hundred years to be sad. I don’t want to be sad any longer. And I don’t want my queen to be, either.”
But that’s impossible at this point. The two of us have spent too long drowning in horrors of our own making.
That’s all we know—pain and bloodshed.
Montes threads his fingers through mine.
I glance down at our joined hands, and amend my earlier statement.
All we know is pain, bloodshed—and this.
And it’s this last one that will kill us.
Chapter 49
Serenity
There’s one last person I need to speak with, and he will be the one to play the most pivotal role.
I find Heinrich in his office. The grand marshal is on the phone when I enter, his voice gruff. The moment he catches sight of me, he straightens in his chair, rushing the caller off the phone.
I take a seat in one of the guest chairs across from him.
“Your Majesty,” he bows his head.
I’m struck all over again by how hardened this man is. He’s seen his fair share of carnage. I can tell he respects me, but I bet he also thinks I’m a bit naïve and disillusioned. Me with my grand speeches and rosy ideals.
