Wildest Dreams (Fantasyland #1)(162)

“The poison,” he continued, “was not me. I have allies, heads of Houses from both Lunwyn and Middleland. Until our current campaign, there was…” he paused then finished, “some disagreement about what to do with you and how to contend with The Drakkar. There were those who felt his influence, if not his power, would be diminished if he was not to sire a child on you, the heir to the throne, and therefore they felt, if you no longer lived, obviously, this would not come about. They also felt you were the easier target. And it is known The Drakkar had no ambitions to the throne and it was believed, if you were out of the way, he would continue with his business and, as was his wont, leave the politics to others. During your betrothal he did not show a great deal of interest in you. It was only after, when it became known he…” he paused again, continuing cautiously, “grew to hold a good deal of affection for you that our plans needed to be reconsidered.”

Grew to hold a good deal of affection for me. A convenient way to put it, the little, scheming, backstabbing piss ant.

I looked over his shoulder as if taking this all in then looked back at him and nodded.

Then I asked, “Do you love him?” and at my question Broderick’s head jerked.

“I’m sorry?”

“Him,” I motioned my chin slightly to Phobin and continued. “Do you love him?” When Broderick looked blank, I explained, “Earlier, you said you’d replace him and, you see, I loved a man and I lost him and I know in my soul where it burns so strong it’s a miracle I’m breathing that he will never be replaced.” I hesitated, held his gaze and whispered fiercely, “Never.” Then I pulled in a delicate breath and asked, “So, you cannot love him.”

Broderick’s eyes were soft on me and he whispered, “Sjofn, you are safe. I know you hurt but you are safe. It pains me, seeing the sadness in your eyes, knowing I’m behind it, but you know me, my cousin, you must know it pains me. But with time, I hope you will understand my actions. With time, you will see my vision for Lunwyn, for Middleland. My people could not go on under my father’s rule, you know that. Everyone does. And Lunwyn should never have been severed. Now it is again intact, I will rule and you will be at my side while I do. You will have my ear. I promise you, you are wise and strong and I know you will be a trusted advisor to me when your heart mends. And I will listen to you as I always have. And later, I will find a way to sire a child but if this does not come about, perhaps we can find someone…” he hesitated and cautiously went on, “appropriate for you to –”

I interrupted him before he really pissed me off. “I asked, Broderick, do you love Phobin?”

He studied me then he replied, “I do not understand why you wish to know this, my cousin.”

“It matters not why, it only matters if you do or do not,” I returned.

He sighed then he said quietly, “I hold affection for him but love…”

He trailed off and I nodded again.

Once.

I knew what I needed to know.

It was time.

So I whispered, “Then you will not mind too much when I do this.”

Then I shot out of the chair, catching Broderick on the chin with my knee as I did. He fell back and instantly I lunged at Phobin with the knife they’d given me to cut my meat at dinner. A knife I’d stolen and they’d extremely stupidly not checked to see if it was there when they took the tray away. A knife, throughout our conversation, I had hidden in the folds of my gown. Then, as Lund taught me (or told me since this was obviously not demonstrated), I planted that knife in Phobin’s jugular and yanked it across his throat, severing his windpipe. Blood spouted out and he started dropping to his knees, hands to his neck, eyes huge, face going white but I immediately yanked out the blade on another ghastly spray of blood, twisted, dropped to my own knees then held the knife to a still unrecovered Broderick’s neck. And he was unrecovered because he was staring in shock at the dying Phobin whose body was now jerking in death throes behind me on the floor.

“Do not utter a noise,” I hissed, his body went still and his terrified eyes came to me as he nodded and we listened to Phobin’s sickening gurgling as the lifeblood poured out of his neck and he gasped unsuccessfully for air. “Roll to your stomach,” I ordered.

“Sjofn –” he started but stopped with a squeak when I pressed the blade deep and blood flowed at its edge.

“I said do… not… utter a noise,” I hissed again. “Now roll to your gods damned stomach.”

He rolled to his stomach, I planted a knee in his back and reached for the ties I took from the curtains and sat on in the chair.

“Hands behind your back,” I demanded, Broderick hesitated and there was nothing for it, I further had to demonstrate my resolve. Therefore, I plunged the knife in his side and he groaned with pain, hopefully not loud enough for the guards to hear. “Hands behind your back!” I hissed and he put his hands behind his back, I pulled the knife out, wiped it on my gown, put the hilt between my teeth, tied his hands then moved down and bound his feet.

Then I moved back to my chair and grabbed the handkerchief I’d purloined from a trunk with one of Phobin’s scarves. I rolled Broderick to his back and he groaned in pain as I did it. Then I quickly shoved the handkerchief in his mouth and secured it by tying the scarf tight around his head.