Masked Prince - Nikolai Andrew Page 0,55

nor scared. Instead they seemed relieved. Mixed up with their relief was the warm sound of recognition. It was exactly, fucking exactly, like what had happened with the old man I’d saved from being mugged.

Aren’t you the man who…? Followed by all those goddamned good deeds.

“Christ.” I shook my head, starting to blush.

I noticed my father’s lip tighten, ever so slightly, in a hint of a smile.

“Didn’t I tell you?”

The conversations turned, little by little, to cheers. And then absolute…well, absolute fucking delight.

Keeping my eyes lowered, I ran my tongue over my teeth and started to smile. Holy shit. Embarrassment wasn’t something I felt often, but I felt it then. And it felt a whole shitload better than shame, that was for fucking sure. But just as I’d been shocked into reality the minute I opened my eyes, I was shocked back into it again. Iris wasn’t here to share this with me. The one who’d given me the courage to step forward and do this at all wasn’t by my side. And never would be again.

My grief didn’t stop the world from moving forward around me. Now for the coronation itself. My father turned to me and me to him. Using one hand on each side of the crown, he lifted it from his head, and I knelt in front of him, ready to receive it.

But then, on my left, I saw a cluster of people enter the chamber where we had been before the doors opened. There was a swoosh of dark fabric, a glittering shimmer of black pearls. Fucking Patara. That bitch was here after all.

I wasn’t intending to give her the satisfaction of looking straight at her. But from the corner of my eye, I saw it: a long blonde braid.

I turned, and my father froze with the crown hovering above my head.

Iris. It was Iris.

She looked like she had been starved and beaten since last I saw her. She blinked hard in the sunshine, like the light hurt her eyes. Her clothes were filthy, her braid a knotted mess. But she was still as beautiful as ever to me. And most important of all, she was alive.

Holy shit, she was alive. How was that even possible?

The joy. The relief. It was like the last few days had turned my heart to ice. Seeing her was like the spring thaw. I was up and off my knee in a heartbeat, ready to take Iris in my arms and put an end to the nightmare that I had been living since I last saw her.

But the rush of joy became a rush of total fucking horror. Because next to Patara stood the head of the Queen’s Guards. He stood behind Iris, with one arm around her, using her as a human shield.

And the tip of his dagger dug into her waist.

Chapter 18

Iris

I was about to die.

I was sure of it. Either by the dagger in my stomach or the starvation I’d endured. Either way, I didn’t have much longer left in the world. I’d had only a few scraps of food to eat in the last few days, hardly enough water to keep me alive, but I was alert enough to know that the dagger would plunge upward under my ribcage, straight into my heart.

It will be quick. At least it will be quick.

And yet, all my thoughts of dying vanished as soon as I saw Randal. I could see from his expression and from the shine of tears in his red-rimmed eyes that he had no idea that I had been alive.

There were dark circles under his eyes, and he was scruffy and slightly unshaven, even though he was dressed as a king. He had been suffering, just as I had. He had not forsaken me; he had not forgotten me. He had been grieving for me. He was even dressed in what looked to my bleary eyes to be black. With a mourning band around his upper arm.

I clapped my hand to my mouth and tears tumbled down my cheeks. But the guard who was holding me hostage tightened his grip and I felt the dagger tip pierce the skin of my stomach. Beyond where we stood, it looked as though every single person in Aramoor had gathered to watch Randal’s coronation. I’d never seen so many people—I didn’t know so many people even existed. But even still, even with all those faces, it was only Randal that I saw. It was only Randal that