The Queen's Assassin (Queen's Secret #1) - Melissa de la Cruz Page 0,122

are too many of them. They throw him to the ground and begin kicking and punching him until he’s spitting blood—and a tooth?—and feels himself slipping in and out of consciousness, the world fading.

He’s dragged back to his cell, barely aware of anything around him. The king announces that they will be executed in the morning, as enemies of the crown. There is no reprieve, no escape.

There’s nothing he can do to save himself or—even worse—to save Shadow.

CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

Caledon

DAWN. CAL WAKES SLOWLY. HIS mouth is bone-dry. There’s an aching throb in his neck and head. He looks down at the bruises on his arms and legs—they’re already yellowing. Can’t be from yesterday. He’s disoriented, unsure how many days he’s slept. He must have had a concussion.

There is very little light in his cell; the only window is a narrow slit near the top of the wall, set deep inside the brick. There’s no slot in the door here, like there was at Deersia. They don’t expect to keep anyone in this place for very long. There’s a water jug on the floor, but the water smells a bit like rotten egg, so he decides not to chance it yet. No use in getting ill on top of everything else.

He hears loud banging outside, but he looks around the tiny room and finds nothing he can stand on to see out the window. Sounds like hammers hitting wood—something is being built out in the courtyard. Gallows. That’s all it can be. What else?

He knows now that the last time he’ll ever see Shadow is right before the executioner puts a hood over their heads, right before they swing to their deaths. And that’s if he’s lucky—if he can call it that. They may go to the gallows separately, which means he’ll actually never see her again.

The duke must have known all along; he was just biding his time. He must have recognized them from the beginning. They had fallen into a trap, and it had just snapped shut.

Cal has killed him three times already—as the fake Grand Prince, as the Aphrasian monk on the Deersian road, and as the duke, but until his body is burnt, the shapeshifter will return. Cal has wounded the insurgency, but no doubt they will rise again. The Aphrasians have the Deian Scrolls and are mining obsidian at Baer. Soon their army will be unstoppable.

There is no hope. As she warned, the queen will not come to his aid. There will be no interference from Renovia. He was supposed to be acting on his own, in secret. An acknowledgment that she sent her assassin to Montrice would only spark a war.

* * *

CAL LIES ON THE floor, curled up on his side. He aches so much, both from the guard’s rough treatment and the pain of his failure, that even breathing hurts. If he could just tell Shadow he’s sorry. He stays with that thought, imagining what he would say. Shadow, this is all my fault. I’m sorry. I failed. Or, Shadow, please forgive me for what I’ve done, and for not telling you what is in my heart when I had the chance.

So much remains undone. And he doesn’t leave anything undone. Why is he accepting this? He is Caledon Holt, son of Cordyn Holt, the Queen’s Assassin. He hasn’t come this far to fail.

He jumps up and goes over to the wall under the window. There’s nowhere to get a decent toehold, but he tries to reach up and grab on to a tiny lip on one of the stones. It’s not enough—his fingertips can’t even get a grip. He tries again, but only manages to scratch his right fingers against the jagged edge. Another stone a bit farther to the left looks more promising, so he tries that one, and this time he actually grasps the rim. He pulls his body weight up, rooting his feet around for a toehold, but finds nothing to support him. Within seconds he falls back to his feet.

It’s useless.

Cal has a disturbing thought—the stones are so smooth and poor for climbing because so many in the past have tried that they’ve been worn down.

Just then the cell door swings open. Cal twists toward it, fists