Page 7 of The Shrouded Queen
Usually, I reveled in their shared fear. Now it grated. “What?” I snapped.
One girl opened her mouth.
The throne room doors were thrown open before she uttered a word, and a palace herald burst in. Even from a distance, I could see the sweat coating his tan face and the tremble to his limbs. “Your Majesty, the Kaldfolk—ah!” He staggered forward, shoved from behind.
The largest man I’d ever seen strode into the throne room, braid swinging at his back. Blue runes cut down his throat, and his eyes were an unnatural Shifter yellow. He looked like a monster straight from the Trench. Which, in a sense, he was. He was Kaldfolk.
And he was not alone.
Another Shifter stood at his right while a pack of them crowded behind them, each more menacing than the last. They spilled into the hall beyond the threshold. How many, I could not tell. I estimated roughly a fuckton.
How had so many found their way into the palace without raising an alarm? It should not have been possible.
Hamadi pivoted in front of the throne and drew a scimitar, while guards flooded in from the room’s shadows, all armed, all aimed at the unexpected visitors.
Jasim grabbed my arm. “My princess, we have to go.”
I nodded and started to turn away, when the large Kald loweredhis head in deference. I stilled. A Kald had never bowed to an Ashoran king before, certainly not Zaid, not even in a movement that minor. My interest heightened when the Kald’s deep and commanding voice declared, “We mean you no harm, King of Ashorah.”
Huh.
Jasim tugged my elbow again.
I twisted out of his grip. “Wait.”
“Princess Amunet—”
“Justwait,” I hissed, setting my hands on the balustrade.
The king had not moved from his throne—probably because he couldn’t, bag of bones that he was—but his fingers tightened on the arms. “Breaking into my home with an army does not speak of peace.”
“Our numbers are a measure of caution, not disrespect.” He looked pointedly at the blades angled in his direction.
King Zaid made a noise that was meant to convey his displeasure, but it caught in the back of his throat and came out in a glob of phlegm. Ugh. Disgusting old pig.
The Kald was well trained enough not to comment on it. “You haven’t answered my king’s letters, so we decided to uncover the reason for the delay. An unfortunate mistake and nothing more, I’m sure.” Not well trained enough to keep the dripping disdain from his tone.
My brows lifted. All this because of unanswered letters? There had been no connection between our two countries since King Zaid had conquered the Kaldfolk almost two decades ago, save for a few rebellious souls who tried to steal a drink from the Lotus River. I’d assumed the correspondence that sat on the king’s desk was nothing more than a collection of spicy insults, maybe a declaration of war or two. Nothing as compelling asthis.
Jasim’s lips brushed my ear as he said, “You cannot stay here, my princess. It’s too dangerous.”
“Hush.”
King Zaid’s frayed voice echoed through the throne room. “We do not help our enemies.”
“Your Majesty,” the Kald tried again. “My name is Keir of the Wild Valley, and this is Alarik of Crestbane.” He gestured to the man beside him, who had rings glinting in his braid. “We are representatives of King Rade of Frostguard. If you would let us explain, I can—”
The king turned his head, an athletic feat, and ordered his soldiers, “Kill them.”
A blade slashed.
It cut through nothing but air.
The Kald’s friend, Alarik, was fast, so fast he was practically a blur. But I did not miss when his teeth elongated and he tore the guard’s esophagus out of his body in a mad spray of blood. The guard could not even choke before he collapsed to the floor.
My eyes bulged. I was no stranger to violence, but this… this was…
The fleshy bit of meat hung from Alarik’s jaws for a moment, before he spat it out. The red stained the mosaic. His yellow eyes flicked back to the king.
