The Red Throne | TUQ Book Two

32 | slaughter

I ran. And ran. Until I could run no more.

The palace hallways are wide and spacious, but I feel as if it were a narrow tunnel, and I am being crammed into it, my ribs crushed and my breathing constricted.

I want to scream until my throat hurt, until my lungs burst, but no sound came out of my mouth. All I felt was the burning sensation in my chest, and I futilely claw at my chest, desperately hoping that the burning pain would be alleviated.

It did not, however, and soon I was reduced to a pathetic pile of bones on the floor, trembling with fear and rage.

I hear footsteps approaching, but I ignore them, thinking that it might be Lillianna or Argenta. The voice that I heard, however, belonged to neither of them.

           "Your Majesty, we meet again," the familiar voice drawled. His tone was warm and amiable, but there was a certain coldness and ruthlessness that I could not quite put my finger on, and it sent shivers down my spine. My heart sank when I recognised who the voice belonged to.

I slowly look up, only to see the face of the Marquis of Lockebel, his lips twisted in an odd smile. He bore no resemblance at all to the handsome, grieving 'widower' at my sister's funeral, and instead, he looked like a madman.

His presence alarmed me. Since the previous incident, Edmund had put him under home arrest, but he seems to have escaped. How else could he be here then?

           "Such a magnificent party you have today," he chuckles. "It must be fun, to be able to have your children with you, to cherish them to your heart's desire. I've never been given the chance, Your Majesty.

And I must be very frank with you. Seeing as to how Prince Gregory died under your brother's care, I believe that you and the rest of your family are unfit to care for children. After all, the Winterbournes only know how to take away lives, not nurturing lives."

I furiously shook my head, and the crippling fear I felt in my heart earlier was quickly replaced with burning rage and hatred.

              "He died of the plague," I barked at the Marquis. "Neither I nor my brother had a reason to kill him. His death was an unfortunate tragedy, but it was not of my doing !"

The Marquis smirked. "Tell that to the eastern lords. In their heads, you were the one who ordered the death of their lovely little prince. On top of that, they wholeheartedly believe that you murdered their precious Ainsworth queen. Even if you died a thousand times, their hunger for revenge will not be satiated."

I fake a laugh at that little speech of his, attempting to sound nonchalant and uncaring, but it came out sounding nervous and anxious. The Marquis's smirk widened.

           "Then, I am afraid that they will starve to death," I retort.

           "Actually," the Marquis says. "You should worry about yourself rather than them. For they have arrived here, at the palace. And they are hungry."

-

            "Anne !" the King shouted, his eyes wildly darting around the dark hallway as he quickened his steps.

Curse that soothsayer, curse that Melissa Hasteburn, curse those Hasteburn crooks, curse everyone!

He never should have allowed the soothsayer to make that prediction.

Their child had been another girl, and only God knows how the prediction about Melissa Hasteburn's child must have hurt Anne's feelings.

He too anticipated a son, so that the councilmen would finally shut up about him lacking an heir. But Verena was born perfectly healthy and well, and Edmund could not be happier. In an age where almost one-third of babies are stillborn or die shortly after birth, Edmund saw Verena as a blessing.