My feet are moving before I even blink. I’m tugging and pulling at the ribbon, forcing it down, until I can slip one of my hands out from its hold, leaving only my left wrist still bound with its loops.
Midas isn’t just here to take over Fifth and marry into Third. It’s not enough for him. It’s never enough. And Slade is the most powerful opponent he’s ever faced.
So Midas figured out a way to take him out too.
Didn’t Slade tell me himself that he doesn’t make a move against Midas because of the people? For the very reason of what I see playing out in the ballroom right now?
They’ll hate him, rise up against him. The other monarchs will attack his kingdom. He’ll become the scapegoat for everyone to hate.
Slade will have no choice but to retaliate tonight, just to ensure Midas doesn’t throw him in a dungeon, leaving him to rot like his name. Since Slade won’t let that happen, that means he’ll use his power to get out of here and seal his kingdom’s fate.
I can’t let that happen.
Something in me, that brewing storm held against a sunlit sea, it starts to crackle. That creature nesting in the clouds of my electric anger calls out, her screech like thunder.
Like a gust of air catapults me, I rush toward the mezzanine door. I turn the handle and let myself out as the beat of my heart thrashes like pounding waves against my ribs.
Down the stairs, I pass a foursome of guards, two of which are Scofield and Lowe, the other two I recognize from that cold, dim room. I catch them off guard by my sudden appearance, but I don’t stop, even though my anger is hurled at them with a lashing tongue.
“My lady!” Scofield calls.
“I am not your lady.” My tone has no softness, no familiarity. It’s spoken from my mouth, and yet, the voice is harder, flatter, carrying hate and betrayal with every press of teeth.
Scofield’s steps falter as I rush past, either from the disdain in my voice or the guilt he bears. In fact, none of the guards move to bar me, and I wonder if it’s because of the shame they carry for their part in my torture.
Good.
The ribbon tied around my wrist sears against my skin, burning with the same anger that’s brewing in my veins.
I hope they’re thinking of what they did to me. I hope Scofield is remembering his fingers mashing the petals into my mouth. Or how they all pinned me against the wall while Midas cut off my ribbons. I hope they never stop hearing my screams from that room, because I certainly won’t.
The archway of the ballroom is a gaping mouth that I get swallowed into. It’s only taken me seconds to get from the mezzanine to down here, but the atmosphere of the crowd has worsened, brewing its own kind of storm. The people have surged forward as close to the dais as they can get, while servants and saddles are pressed against the walls.
I push myself through the gilded room, and for once, everyone is too focused on something else to pay me any notice at all. The guards get lost in the throng, unable to follow my path as I slip past people. My feet take me straight to the side of the dais, where Ranhold guards are now circling Slade and his Wrath.
Even with the anger of the crowd, everyone has enough sense to stay back, and it isn’t because of Osrik’s, Lu’s, and Judd’s imposing figures. No, what holds them back is Slade himself.
The capricious lines of his power are coiling around his neck like aggravated snakes writhing on the ground. They move and shift, disappearing beneath the black scruff on his jaw, leading down to sink beneath his collar.
My heart clamps at the sight of Slade as people shout and curse at him. His magic hisses, hitting me with a wave of queasiness, and the ground beneath his feet seems to pucker and rumble.
But I don’t fear him. Not even with his threatening power that branches around his skin. Not even with the vicious glint in his eye, or with the twisted wood crown on his head that makes him look every bit the rotten king.
I know what they see, but it isn’t what I see, and this isn’t his fault. He’s simply been set up to take the fall so that Midas can continue to rise.
How much more of me are you going to take?
Everything.
It’s not just me that Midas is going to take from. Being the king of Sixth isn’t enough, and taking Fifth was just the beginning. He’s marrying Third, making Fourth the enemy…and what next? Will he move on to Second and First too? Will he stop then?
But I know the answer to that already.
Midas won’t ever stop.
He may not have magic, but his strength lies in his scheming manipulations, and it’s terrifying to realize just how powerful he’s truly become.