One Dark Throne (Three Dark Crowns #2)(50)

Half Moon thunders through the ferns and shrubs, and the bear grows larger ahead, dwarfing the black-dressed queen running by its side. Katharine should have painted poison onto Half Moon’s shoes so she could simply ride Arsinoe into the ground. Oh well. Perhaps she will save that for Mirabella.

She smiles until the bear turns to fight.

“No, Braddock, no!” Arsinoe shouts, and stomps her feet, but he will not obey. He is tired of running. The hoofbeats and unfamiliar voices coming closer and closer make him angry. He stands on his hind legs and roars so they will go away. He will not swat them unless he has to.

Arsinoe does not know what to do. They cannot stop, but he will not come. She shakes her head and turns to run on alone but stops after only a few strides. He is her bear. She cannot leave him.

“Go!” Mirabella shouts.

Arsinoe freezes. She searches the trees and sees Mirabella ducked behind a fat trunk, her hood pulled over her hair.

“Go!” Mirabella orders again, eyes wild. “Go now! Run, Arsinoe! You must run!”

“I can’t!” she cries as Braddock drops to his feet and charges the horses. She can only stand and watch as the knives and arrows fly. She can only listen to him bellow as they sink deep into his soft, brown coat.

She looks at Mirabella through blurry eyes.

“You run,” Arsinoe says. “Save yourself. They have already caught me.” She turns and cups her hands to yell. “Come and get me, you poisoner cowards! If you’re brave enough to go where your horses can’t follow!”

She does not wait to see if they will take the bait. She knows that they will. And she knows where she is. It is not far to the deer thicket, where she can drop to the ground and hide. If she is lucky, Katharine will pass by unaware. Perhaps even close enough that Arsinoe can grab her and slit her throat.

“Stay here!” Katharine orders. She bares her teeth and urges Half Moon past the stumbling, wounded bear, into the bushes after Arsinoe. When Half Moon breaks through the undergrowth, they are well within range, and Katharine takes aim.

“Where do you think you are running to?” she whispers, and then fires her shot. The bolt catches Arsinoe squarely in the back. She falls with a small gasp, a sound Katharine will relish for many nights afterward. Katharine shouts her victory, then whirls Half Moon around in a circle. She could have sworn that she heard another scream come from somewhere in the trees.

Bree claps her hands over Mirabella’s mouth, stopping her screams. Mirabella jerks and struggles, but Elizabeth is there as well, and together they wrestle her to the ground.

Arsinoe fell. Katharine shot her in the back, and she fell. It is over.

Hot tears slide down Mirabella’s cheeks as she watches Katharine dismount. From where they lie hidden in the ferns, Arsinoe’s body is nothing but a limp pile of black clothes.

Katharine kicks Arsinoe in the ribs, turning her over, and Arsinoe yelps like a dog.

“What will kill you first,” Katharine wonders, “my poison or my crossbow bolt?” She cocks her head. “No last words? No last retort?” She bends to listen. Then she laughs.

“Let me go,” Mirabella whispers furiously.

“No, Mira,” Bree whispers back. “Please. It is over. The bolt was poisoned. Let it be over.”

“No,” Mirabella says, but Bree is right. Whatever she could have done for Arsinoe, she did not do it in time.

Katharine twirls Arsinoe’s red-streaked mask around her finger.

“What a monster that bear made of you,” Katharine says, studying Arsinoe’s exposed scarred face. “You should be glad that we killed it.”

Arsinoe coughs. Her breathing is ragged and wet.

“And what a monster they have made of you, little Katharine. Scars or no scars.”

What happens next happens so quickly that Mirabella almost does not see. Juillenne Milone bursts out from the trees behind Katharine.

“Get away from her!” she screams, and Katharine flies backward and lands with a grunt. Jules’s hand is out as though to push, but she was too far away to have touched her. Mirabella watches, unblinking, as Jules races to Arsinoe’s side, and when Katharine regains her footing, Jules does it again, knocking Katharine back through the air with an unseen force, to roll where she lands.

“Arsinoe, put your arm around my neck. Help me, Arsinoe, hurry!”

Jules calls Katharine’s horse and makes it kneel and heaves herself and Arsinoe into the saddle. They gallop away with Juillenne’s mountain cat loping behind on three legs, and all Katharine can do is scream and pound her fists against the ground.

Mirabella, Elizabeth, and Bree duck low as Katharine’s hunting party catches up to her.

“Queen Katharine! Are you hurt?”

“No.” Katharine stands up and brushes dirt and grass from her skirt. “I got her. I got Arsinoe. But that naturalist stole the body.” She stalks forward and jumps nimbly into the saddle behind a boy with ice-blond hair. One of the Arrons. “Ride, Pietyr! I will not lose my sister’s corpse!” She kicks the horse and it takes off, and the rest of the poisoners follow.

“What was that?” Bree asks after the hoofbeats fade. “Though I have never seen it, I would swear that was the war gift.”

“But how?” Elizabeth asks. “Jules Milone is a naturalist.”

“I do not know.” Mirabella begins to sob. “And I do not care.” She leans against her friends and they wrap her in their arms. They are safe. She is safe. She should be grateful, but she cannot be when Arsinoe is dead.