Scarred (Never After #2)(14)

Satisfaction sneaks through my veins, and a smirk tips the corner of my lips. My eyes meet Edward’s as he kneels in the back corner. I nod, pleased at the way he freed our messenger from the dungeons and brought her back.

This was important. A statement. One that shows everyone I keep my word and will keep them safe. This is but a small portion of the support I’ve garnered, but it’s enough for the message to spread.

It’s hardly the truth, but perception is reality, and not everything is a lie.

I’m the one who will storm the castle and burn it all to the ground; along with my brother, his queen, and anyone else who gets in my way.

I’m the one who will rebuild Gloria Terra. The way it should be.

And if these peons are casualties in the war?

I search for a modicum of empathy to their plight but come up blank. They’re simply tools. Plain and crude outcasts that have found safety within me.

Their Lord. Their savior.

And the leader of the rebellion against the king.





CHAPTER 8





Sara B.





I have seen no one of importance in three days. Sighing, I shuffle the playing cards, my eyes glancing around the table at my brand-new ladies-in-waiting.

Ophelia, a young girl with rosy cheeks and bright red hair, and Marisol, a woman who is here to help train me for the king. Both of them sit in front of me, whispering words of adoration any time I so much as blink.

Part of me is disgusted because I know their loyalty is false, but the other part is enjoying their attention. There’s something nice about being treated so well, even if it comes from a place of wanting to climb a social ladder.

Still, I wonder which of them are here on behalf of their families, hoping to bed my future husband and become his mistress.

I wonder how many already have.

Not that it bothers me either way. It’s well known that kings take pleasure from many sources, and it’s even more well known that King Michael prefers a buffet and isn’t particular about his tastes.

The more he gets it from somewhere else, the less he’ll have need of me.

He’ll be after my purity, of course, and he’ll wish to produce an heir. I don’t intend to let things get that far.

“This is quite boring, isn’t it?” I say, placing down the cards and tapping my nails on the table.

Sheina stands behind me, brushing through my hair as she laughs. “Milady likes to go on adventures. When we were girls, you couldn’t bribe her to stay still for a second.”

I huff out a breath, rolling my eyes as I lock my gaze on the youngest girl in the room. “Don’t listen to her, dear Ophelia. I’m perfectly fit to sit here and… drink tea all day and eat crumpets.”

Giggles burst around the table, and I smile, something warming the center of my chest when I do.

“Now...” I take advantage of the new camaraderie and lean forward. “Tell me about these rebels.”

Ophelia’s green eyes widen and Marisol shifts in her seat, fingers brushing over her blonde hair.

Interesting.

“Did I say something inappropriate?” I ask. “Apologies if I did. I overheard talk and got curious, but from your reaction, I can see it’s a sensitive subject.”

I pause, allowing my words to linger in the air before I continue. “You know… You should tell me, anyway. I wouldn’t want to embarrass myself in front of anyone, most of all the king.” I place a hand on my chest, giggling. “Can you imagine?”

Ophelia hesitates before leaning in close. “They’re the outliers.”

“Outliers?”

She nods, and Marisol purses her lips before adding, “Filth is what they are. Disgusting creatures who think they have a right to live on our level.”

My stomach tightens. “Do they not?”

Ophelia shakes her head. “They’re criminals. People say they smoke and drink until they can’t see straight, and then sneak into the upper east side and snatch people right off the streets.”

“For what purpose?” My brows draw in.

“To make a statement?” Ophelia bites on her lips.

“They’re hyenas,” Marisol cuts in. “They’ve only become a problem recently, and now that they’ve thrown themselves at King Michael’s feet?” She shrugs her shoulders, brushing her hands down her skirt. “They won’t be around much longer.”

Sheina’s fingers pause from where she’s pinning my hair. “That’s rather harsh,” she chastises.

Marisol’s gray eyes cut to hers, her features drawing tight. “They hold human sacrifices in the middle of their dirty roads! Strip a person down until there’s nothing left but their pride, and then they take that too, leaving only shame and whimpers for death in its wake.”

“We don’t know that for sure,” Ophelia scolds. “No one’s seen it happen.”

I suck in a breath. “Surely not. Wouldn’t they want the people on their side if they plan to go against the king? Wouldn’t it be obvious people were missing?”

Ophelia shakes her head. “Sometimes, milady, there’s no rhyme or reason to people’s madness. And if they have someone leading them now…”

Her voice trembles and her eyes glaze over.