The Blacksmith Queen (The Scarred Earth Saga, #1) - G.A Aiken Page 0,88

river behind them. This was a port town and, she now realized, a perfect place for the Devourer to set up a new home base since Prince Marius still had control over the Old King’s castle. But the lord who ruled this town and his advisors thought they’d be safe from an attack by Straton because they were “friends” of the former Old King.

She assumed they quickly learned that wasn’t true when they were dragged from their homes and immediately hung from scaffolds until they were dead.

The raid was short but devastating. Afterward, all the town’s inhabitants were dragged into its center. Straton stood in front of them, informed them that this was now his town and all would be well as long as they were “nice” to him and his men. While he gave this speech, the bodies of their town leaders swayed from the scaffolding.

He also promised that things would remain “normal” but soon after, many of the younger women were separated from their families and forced to one of the pubs to “work.” She knew what that work would entail. Something she didn’t want for her sisters or herself.

Yet the most horrifying thing that she and Efa saw from the safety of their hiding place was when one of the Ó Broin sisters was dragged kicking and screaming before Straton.

“Here she is, my lord,” one of the mercenaries said. “The local witch.”

It was true. She was a local witch, but she wasn’t the only one. All of the Ó Broin sisters were witches. But they weren’t like witches in the big covens. They were just nature witches who made basic potions and healing balms from herbs and small spells. They were not witches with enough power to take down a whole city or even a small battle unit. They just helped locals with their basic aches and pains and births. That was it.

But it seemed Straton was expecting more. Perhaps the loss of the Amhuinn Witches was a bigger issue for him than it was for the rest of the Old King’s sons. If he thought that one of the Ó Broins could help him with his battle for the throne . . . he was sure to be disappointed.

Unfortunately for his captive, he probably wouldn’t know that for a long time.

Frightening-looking cuffs were placed on the witch’s wrists and Straton dragged her off to the longhouse where he planned to live until he became the Old King.

“What should we do?” Efa whispered to her. But what could they do? Nothing. Nothing but hide.

When she saw their chance, she grabbed her sister and led her to the hidden tunnels under the town and prayed that this occupation would end soon. But she had the feeling that the gods weren’t listening. Not anymore.

* * *

Beatrix sat in the smaller throne and waited for this waste of her precious time to end.

She was trapped under a fur cape that felt as if it weighed ten thousand pounds while a priest walked around her in a circle, swinging that gold jar from its long chain so blasted incense slid into her nose. She’d already sneezed twelve times since this ridiculousness had begun.

Initially she’d amused herself by staring into the audience of royals watching the proceedings and wondering how many of them were planning to betray her. When that grew tiresome, she tried to guess which she’d end up beheading for some little infraction she’d come up with.

But soon she had to stop because her gaze kept falling on the Dowager Queen, who insisted on indicating to Beatrix that she should smile. But Beatrix hadn’t worked this hard to be here so she could smile when she didn’t feel like it.

After at least two hours—two hours of this dreck!—they put the gold and gem-encrusted crown on her head, a scepter in one hand and an orb in the other.

There were words spoken and she repeated them. And as the suns set, Beatrix was finally announced “the undoubted queen of the Hill Lands.”

She was then forced into another gown chosen by the Dowager Queen and the festivities began. King Marius—thankfully—found himself a pretty young virgin to amuse himself with and Beatrix was about to slip away from the revelers in the main hall so she could go to her room and get some much-needed work done.

But before she could—and as the royal attendants became more and more drunk and outrageous—Duke Gennadius decided to yell across the room to Marius, “And what about