Scarred(Never After #2)(26)

Edward glances up at me before nodding and passing the bucket off.

The young man stares down for long moments, taking in the singed and nearly unrecognizable insignia on Antony’s chest, his face growing angrier by the second. And then he tips the bucket, allowing the liquid to pour onto the body, splashing off the ground and puddling around his feet.

Hoots and hollers from the rebels accompany his actions.

My eyes meet Edward’s and unspoken words pass between us. This man will not live to see another sunset.

But for now, I’ll allow him this moment. It’s good for morale.

Pulling a matchbox from my cloak’s pocket, I strike a flame against the side.

“Brute force can win a war,” I start, heat dancing against my fingertips. “But our strength is in patience. In planning. That is what topples empires. Together we rule, divided we fall.”

Antony’s body explodes into flames when I drop the match, the smell of burning flesh potent as it curls in the air as smoke.

“Down with Michael Faasa!” someone yells.

“Death to the king!” others chime in.

“We move soon, friends.” I smile. “Stay prepared.”





CHAPTER 15





Sara B.





I’ve been here for a week, but this is the first time I’ve ventured outside of the castle walls into the actual town of Saxum. A clock tower sits in the center of the square, and businesses line both sides of the cobblestone streets, brand-new, shiny lampposts accenting the sidewalks. I’ve never seen a streetlight in person before, and my insides churn as I realize just how prosperous the main area of Saxum is while Silva struggles without.

Michael and I have been sitting inside The Chocolate Gorge; a patisserie that’s known for making the best sweets in the region. Timothy, Xander, and my ladies perch at a table across the room from us, and a few royal guards line the entrance, but other than that, there’s no one here.

“Is it always this empty?” I ask, pushing my dessert plate away.

Michael smirks, his slicked-back brown hair gleaming under the lights. “Couldn’t have the commoners interrupting when I’m trying to woo you.”

My chest pinches as I peer out the front windows where half a dozen people line up around barricades, trying to glance inside to see their king.

“Do you come here often?”

He shrugs. “Not since I was a child. My father used to bring Tristan and me here once in a blue moon.”

My blood heats when he mentions his brother, but I ignore it. I will not let him affect me when he’s not even around.

Still, I can’t help imagining Tristan and Michael as children, eating all the chocolates and candies with their father looking on. Everything I’ve heard of King Michael II’s legacy is in all the ways he failed his country. It’s difficult for me to picture him as a man who cared for his family, and curiosity brims inside of me, wanting to learn more.

“That’s very sweet,” I say.

Michael scoffs, his eyes moving past mine before coming back. He smiles, but I see the flash of pain that haunts his features. “Sara Beatreaux, you are a bleeding heart, aren’t you?”

I sit up straighter. “Isn’t that something you should want in your queen?”

He tilts his head. “And you’re so sure you’ll be my queen?”

Blowing out a breath, I stare down at my lap before peeking at him from beneath my lashes. “I’m sure that I was bred specifically for you, Your Majesty. I think you’d be doing yourself a great disservice to not keep me at your side.”

He hums, his fingers coming up to rub at his jaw. “Bred for me?”

I nod, reaching out to grasp my cup of tea and taking a sip before placing it back on the table. “My uncle turned many suitors down hoping one day, I would belong to you.”

It’s a gamble telling him this, and it’s a gross exaggeration, but I’m banking on the fact Michael loves having his ego stroked and is possessive over his toys. I was told this long before coming here, and it’s noticeable in the way he preens whenever he’s paid a compliment and sulks when something isn’t going his way.

Hopefully, learning I was meant for him all along will entice him to snatch me up and collect me like a treasure.

He leans across the table, his brows rising. “And what of you, Sara? I’ll be honest, I’m not very interested in what your uncle wants.”

My eyes lock on his, the weight of responsibility dropping into my gut and pushing the words from my mouth. “After meeting you? I want nothing more.”

A slow smile creeps along his face and he settles back into his chair, a satisfied look coasting across his features.

“Sire,” Xander interrupts, coming to stand next to the table. “There’s a journalist set up outside, ready to take your photos, and then we need to head back to the castle for a meeting with the Privy Council.”

Michael nods, glancing out the front windows. His face pinches, nose scrunching up in obvious disgust. “So many people outside.”

“They’re behind the barricades, sire, they won’t get near you,” Xander reassures.

Michael stands, placing a top hat on his head and holding out an arm to me. “Showtime, Sara Beatreaux. You want this? Make it look good.”