sat in a chair, hands folded, face grim, flanked by the High Lords who’d accompanied him on the campaign. Only Malahi was absent. “Where is the Queen?”
Serrick’s face soured, but he gestured a hand to Hacken.
“We were attacked as dusk fell,” he answered. “By Rufina. She was alone, but mounted on a deimos.”
Killian couldn’t breathe. “Malahi?”
“Rufina took her.”
Gods, no. The room faded in and out of focus, Malahi’s last words echoing through his head like a prophecy: If you don’t come back to me victorious and I lose the crown, everything that happens will be because of you. Because of the decision you made in this moment. And any blood that is shed will be on your hands.
“You should’ve been with her,” Hacken hissed. “You were supposed to protect her.”
He’d sworn to protect her.
“And yet we cannot fault Lord Calorian’s decision to do otherwise,” Serrick said, rising to his feet. “We have him to thank for Mudamora’s victory over our enemy. And I have him to thank for my life.”
Rufina has Malahi.
“Whereas it was you worms”—Serrick gestured at the High Lords—“who put the target on my daughter’s back. Setting her up as your paper queen. And you—” He glared at Hacken. “Don’t for a heartbeat think that I don’t see what you hoped to gain with your brother on the throne, you greedy little creature. You are disgusting to have used her so. And at what cost?” He looked away, grief painting his face. “My girl is gone and I should hang the lot of you for your meddling.”
Vaguely, Killian realized that Serrick hadn’t told anyone about Malahi’s plot to assassinate him, but his mind couldn’t focus. Couldn’t move past that he’d left her alone and now she was gone.
“You have no authority over us, Serrick,” Hacken growled. “You are no longer king.”
“No?” Serrick spit the word. “Then who rules Mudamora? Your would-be queen is dead.”
Malahi is dead.
“We have enough here for a majority vote, so why not do so? Crown a new king.” Serrick laughed. “It need not be me. It could be any of us. It could be you, Hacken, who sits on the throne.”
All the High Lords shifted uneasily.
“Of course.” Serrick sat back down. “If you grasping fools were capable of choosing among yourselves, Malahi would be alive.”
Malahi would be alive if you hadn’t left her.
“All of you get out,” Serrick said, motioning for a servant to refill his cup. “Debate among yourselves somewhere out of my sight. Until you make a decision otherwise, I am King of Mudamora.”
“Don’t get comfortable on your throne, Serrick,” Hacken said. “You won’t be sitting on it for much longer.” Then he and the other High Lords left the room.
Killian blindly followed them until Serrick called out, “Not you, Killian. You and I have much to discuss.”
Freezing in his tracks, Killian fought to regain composure. Lydia was still at risk. He wouldn’t fail her, too.
Serrick picked up the decanter sitting on the table and poured two glasses, handing Killian one. “Where’s the girl? Lydia, I believe her name is.”
“I don’t know. The last time I saw her was moments before I rode into battle.”
Taking a mouthful of his drink, Serrick eyed him. “I doubt that’s the case, Lord Calorian, but given the circumstances, I’ll not press that issue just yet.”
Killian only crossed his arms, saying nothing.
“Lydia was adamant that you were unaware of Malahi’s plot to kill me, but I did not believe her.” Serrick shook his finger at Killian. “Did not believe her, that is, until you came galloping across that field to foil the second assassin, nearly losing your own life in the process. Seems unlikely you would’ve done so if you were complicit in the plotting.”
Malahi was dead. What was the point in trying to protect her now? “She confessed what she’d sent Lydia to do. I took issue with it.”
“I’ve no doubt you did.” The King’s eyes were too knowing for Killian’s comfort. As if he saw quite clearly that the issue was not with Serrick being murdered but with Lydia being the one to do it.
“If that spear had been intended for me, would you still have ridden into its path?”
“It was intended for you.”
Serrick gave a soft smile. “Oh, I think we both know it wasn’t. Malahi had the crown in her hands—my death was hardly necessary. But killing the girl who knew her plans most certainly was. Malahi sent an assassin to kill Lydia, not me, and you knew it.”