Page 47 of The Dead Queen

Father shakes his head like he’s forgotten something. “What are we, beasts?” He snaps at a nearby guard. “Remove his irons. This man is our honored guest today.”

The man takes out a key and the iron shackles clatter to the ground. The Wolf barely reacts.

Father leans forward, his elbows on the table. “Who are you?”

“Tristan.”

I startle, realizing I’ve never asked his name. I’d grown used to thinking of him only as “the Wolf”.

“Who sent you?”

The Wolf—Tristan—narrows his eyes. He leans forward on the table, mirroring Father’s posture. “A ghost.”

Father rolls his eyes. “And what does this ‘ghost’ require of me that he sent you to invade my personal chambers?”

“An end to the invasion of Annwyn.” He says it so calmly that, for a moment, I think I misheard him.

My spine tingles. Us invading them? I’ve been to the borderlands. I’ve seen the carnage. If anything, it’s the Llwyn people who are in peril. For generations, Annwyn has creeped into our territory, our land. At least, that’s what I’ve always been told.

I spare a glance for Malen, who glowers at the Wolf from the shadows. I know that look. It’s one I’ve seen a thousand times whenever Hunter did something that he disapproved of. That look is a promise to make him pay for the misstep when no one is watching.

Father gives Tristan a pitying look. “A sympathizer then.”

This makes no sense. I turn to the Wolf and ask, “Sympathizer for wha⁠—”

Father snaps. “Be quiet or I’ll have your tongue ripped from your face!”

My jaw clamps shut. My face heats to what must be a fiery flush. I can feel the Wolf’s eyes on me.

Father picks up a small knife from the cheeseboard. He twirls it in his hands for a moment, then asks. “Is this one a sympathizer, too?” He points the knife’s tip in my direction.

The Wolf stays silent.

Father’s eyes narrow, and he stands abruptly from his chair. “I grow tired of your games, Tristan. I only like mine.” He speaks as he walks briskly toward us. I think he’s heading to Tristan, but he pivots at the last second. He wraps one arm around the back of my chair, pinning me to it, while his knife meets my throat.

“Let’s see how little you truly know or care about my heir.” He presses the knife closer to the delicate skin of my neck. The cool metal nips at my throat like a lover’s kiss.

The Wolf stares at the king with cool indifference.

“What?” Father asks. “Do you think I’m bluffing?” He laughs. “My daughter and I have no great fondness for each other. Isn’t that right, dear daughter?” He tilts his head to look at my face, but I close my eyes against the tears that threaten there. I have no doubt that he would kill me. It would solve one of his many problems. He could just blame it on the Wolf.

But if there’s one truth universally known, it’s this: A king without an heir can’t keep his throne for long. A usurper would seize the opportunity sooner or later. And that, I know in my soul, is the single thing that has kept me alive all these years.

“What a small man you are.”

My eyes pop open to see Tristan studying us.

Father just laughs. “You’ve known no suffering until you’ve had a disobedient child.” He presses the knife closer. “Now tell me. Who do you work for and how is my deceitful heir involved?”

“She isn’t.” Tristan says simply, with a shrug. “I’d never seen her before that night.”

“Then what was she doing in my rooms with you?”

A warm bead of blood trickles down my neck. Tristan watches it fall. The drop catches on the delicate silver chain that hides Grandmother’s necklace beneath my dress. His face grows dark, the only emotion he’s shown throughout this entire test.

“She followed me.”

The Wolf stands up from his chair and my father pulls me closer into the back of mine, threatening. Guards make a move to grab Tristan, but father shakes his head. The Wolf leans one hip against the table and finally reaches for a grape. He pops it into his mouth, as if this were a mere chat instead of an inquisition laced with murder.