“Lettie.” Miri’s word was only a breath, the tone one of mourning and of a final, unchangeable regret.
Her mother’s words rang in her ears. You will come back, Myrina of Stormskeep. You will earn your name. I command your vow that you will end the traitor for good. Only a true Lion will hold the throne.
The Lion Queen had known all along. And Henry, when they’d found him in the cells, had known too. Show her you’ve the heart of a Lion. Myrina had never suspected or considered such a thing of her sister at all, even when it was clear she’d been misled by Nicholas. Lettie had given them what they could never obtain on their own, even if she didn’t realize the weapon it would become. The doors to the throne room burst open, and the king shouted an order at his men, but Miri could only hear the rising of her blood. Lettie had betrayed them. The heir apparent had killed the queen.
Miri’s fingers curled into a fist, but the king’s game had run its course. Their time was up. Myrina would watch Cass and the queensguard be killed. Lettie’s eyes strayed to Prince Augustus, her face pale as realization dawned. He was the prince she’d given the locket to and who had tricked her into falling for their ploy. Miri could nearly read the revelations that flitted over her sister’s face. How many must have been sacrificed to perform such magic, to cause a death that would twist the fate of so many. Lettie hadn’t just killed the queen. She’d killed thousands.
Miri’s heart pounded, but her chest had eased in the strange drowning sensation from the presence of sorcerers. She was aware of the fighting behind her, the flare of heat and magic and the clash of swords. The sorcerers were not dead, yet their effect on her seemed to be broken. She stared down at the locket, a token she had carried with her everywhere. Every time a sorcerer’s presence had frozen her, she’d been carrying it. And how much worse it had been when she’d been soaked in her mother’s blood. It had been the blood in the locket all along. Miri was free of their hold.
Her gaze shot back to Lettie, but her sister’s realizations had shifted into a familiar rage. Her eyes swam over Nicholas and the chaos of the room before they stopped on Miri.
Miri was still on her knees at the hands of the kingsmen, but her answer was steady. “He doesn’t have the power, Lettie. He never has.” Her tone rang with the promise You are a Lion.
Lettie’s jaw went tight, and her hand moved swiftly to the dagger at the prince’s side. She shoved it into Nicholas’s neck, straight and fast and deep. Then she ripped it free at an angle, the king’s blood spraying over the throne. Miri shouted, trying to jerk free from her captors, but her warning came too late. Lettie turned into the prince’s arms, his blade spearing through her gut as her mouth opened in a gasp.
The betrayal in Lettie’s eyes was the worst, not because she had trusted the bastard king and his wicked son but because Miri had seen the look before from their mother. The Lion Queen had died knowing she’d been betrayed by her own daughter. As Lettie’s expression melted into pain, Miri forgave whatever rage that might have followed. The prince dropped her body to the floor as queensguard rushed the dais. They took down the prince but were too late to save Lettie. Her blood spilled over the steps of the throne, pooling before Miri and the locket.
Lettie’s beautiful face had gone slack, and as the last bit of breath left her sister’s body, Miri felt the jolt of ages-old magic rush into her.
The hum of it rose inside her, biting within her veins. She threw her head back in a scream, and the room fell still as if it were the roar of a lion. Magic cracked through the air, a singing pulse that snapped taut against the bonds of the sorcerers. “Stop!” she commanded. “Kneel.”
Miri could not see the men behind her, but she more than understood. She was no true queen yet, but inside her rested the power of the queen’s blood. Her sister had been young and foolish and had released the tethers that bound the magic through her. Her mother’s had been stolen, used against her by men who wished her ill.
Miri was untainted by betrayal or fear. She was done with being trapped, bound before a stolen throne. Her next command was a whisper, and it echoed through the room. “Kill the kingsmen.”
Sorcerer’s fire tore through the throne room, searing death to each of the king’s armed men. Swords clattered to the floor, and the room was scented with bitter smoke and ash. Her queensguard stared for only a moment before they moved again and had surrounded Miri and untied her bonds. She watched in silence as Terric approached the throne and his booted foot rose to shove the body of Nicholas to the floor.
Terric’s eyes met hers, showing a promise fulfilled. Then he knelt slowly before Lettie with a reverence due a queen.
“Burn her,” Miri said. “Take her ashes to the courtyard.” For our mother.
Hands came to Miri’s arms and helped her gently to her feet. It was over. She’d made it, surrounded by queensguard in her home at Stormskeep. Still, her mouth tasted bitter with smoke and blood.
Epilogue
Shadow Queen
Miri stood near a window, high in the keep, staring out at the kingdom of Stormskeep below. Weeks had passed, and with them had come the first cool days that marked the end of the season and Lettie’s name day. On the wall beside her rested a newly hung map carved with the rivers and forests of the seven kingdoms, once again whole. The soldiers of the queensguard, Cass and Terric with them, had been gone for weeks as they removed the last kings from their stolen thrones. Miri had not needed the kings’ justice dealt at her own hand. Her vow to her mother had been fulfilled. The betrayal had not come from the kings at all. It had been her sister. And Lettie was gone. She had been misled by a handsome face and promises that played to her darkest fears, and she had paid for it with her life.
Miri spun the gold band on her finger, its weight somehow heavier than the crown. Henry sat on a cushioned bench in the room behind her, deftly managing matters of state. He would be named regent once he was returned to health for the nearly two years until Miri’s name day, the start of her twentieth year. He still seemed so frail but only compared to her memories. Henry had weathered the time locked away well enough. He was strong, and his mind was still sharp. His heart was ever true, faithful to his duty to the realm.
The castle had been filled with uncountable visitors in the previous weeks, each offering support or resolving business that Miri’s counselors had seen to on her behalf. They’d left her to decide larger matters, and though she’d been taught as a child and schooled since by Nan and Thom, Miri leaned on the knowledge of those who’d remained in Stormskeep and understood how things had changed. As it was, only a few dozen members of court milled about the room, their presence a strange comfort—so like her memories as a child—and a stark reminder that she was no longer the girl she had been. Miri would be queen.
She swallowed the nervousness that swam up with the thought. She had time, two years to prepare. But it felt like a new vow she’d never meant to take. She did not want to do it alone.
The tall doors opened across the room, and Miri glanced over her shoulder absently at the newcomer. Her chest squeezed at the sight of Cass. His shoulders were straight beneath the fine black coat of the guard, his steps purposeful as he crossed the space to address Henry and the members of their council. He handed over a scroll, likely a report that detailed that their work was done, then his shoulders squared once more. Miri turned to face him, and as he approached, her bloodsworn gave a small bow. It was not required of his post. There was a moment of hesitation before his face rose again.
His eyes found hers, and he said, something tremulous beneath his tone, “You look well, Your Majesty.”
Miri felt the words more than heard them, somehow entirely too aware of the lavish gown she wore, the delicate curls a maid had tucked beneath her crown, and the thin gold band she’d left upon her finger. “Cassius.” She might have said more, could she only trust her voice.
“My duty as queensguard has been fulfilled. The lords of the realm no longer call themselves king.” He was
being kind, because the lords of the realm could no longer call themselves anything. They were dead. Cass pressed his lips together, and Miri had the sensation he wanted to glance around the room, but his gaze did not leave hers. Despite the time they’d spent together, this was how court business was conducted. He’d no right to ask for an audience alone. “As such,” he said, “I am here to ask of you a favor.”
“Anything,” she started, but her response fell away at Cass’s expression.
His hair had been freshly cut, revealing a faint line that marred his brow from their fight with the kingsmen. He seemed otherwise in perfect order, but his finger twitched at his side. “I ask that you release me from my duty.”
The words were like a blow to the chest. Miri’s fingers clenched where they rested before her waist. He understood he never should have allowed her to kiss him, because he was bloodsworn. He could not do his duty to protect her—to be so near without breaking his vow again. His honor demanded it. There was no way to stop him, no other answer she could give. The words tasted of ash, and her voice was not her own when she finally uttered, “Of course.”
Cass’s brow shifted at her expression, his neck heating in a flush of red. His gaze darted momentarily sideways, but no one could see his face but Miri. They were as alone as they would get, and it felt strangely like Cass wanted to drag her away from the others. What is it? she wanted to whisper, but she couldn’t. So she waited, silent and still, until Cass spoke again.
He cleared his throat, but when he spoke again, his voice was low. But that didn’t matter, because all other discussions in the room had come to a halt. “It is not that I have any desire to acquit my duty, Myrina. Only that…” His throat bobbed, his hazel gaze seeming to beg for her understanding. “Henry has seen fit to offer me his name, officially, so that I might be welcome among the court.”
Miri’s breath seized in her chest as Cass’s confession fell so unexpectedly into place. A quiet murmur went through the room as people realized that something far more unusual had happened than a queensguard retiring from his duty. Miri’s gaze snapped to Henry, whose expression was serene aside from a small twitch at the corner of his mouth. Gods, they had played her. Henry gave her a wink and turned back to his fellows, and any outrage she felt was washed away by the utter disbelief that came with the impossible.
Miri’s hands slid to her sides. “Clear the hall!”
At her order, Henry stood, leaning heavily on one hip as he waved his cane at the stunned counselors. “Go,” Henry said. “All of you.”
As the bodies filed from the room, Cass’s discomfort seemed to increase tenfold. Miri did not know whether he was expecting a dressing-down or that she might rebuff him, but she had only one reason to get him alone, and it was nothing of the sort. Henry gave her a smile, one she remembered so well, before he turned to leave as well. Cass and Miri were truly alone, court gossip be damned, for the first time in weeks.
She faced him and said, her voice quiet in the massive room but steadier than it had ever been, “You were raised bloodsworn. Duty above all. You’re willing to sacrifice that to become a lord?”
Cass twitched as if he might move forward but was restraining himself. “My loyalty will not be diminished by the loss of those duties, Myrina. I will always be faithful—”
She raised a hand, cutting off his vow. “The question is, will you be satisfied instead with duties of state?”
He blanched. “I would never presume to ask for court favor.”
“Of a king, Cassius. Not a lord.” She stepped forward, close enough that she could touch him, should she only decide to do it. “In two years’ time, I will be queen.”
Cass had thought her angry and was clearly agitated his plan had gone nothing at all how he’d wanted, but suddenly those emotions fled from his face. Shock had replaced it instead. He had known she would be queen. He had only wanted to be near her, not to be a fisherman’s grandson who might someday be king. It was clear he’d thought nothing of the sort. A new emotion, one she could not quite identify and had not before seen, passed over his features, and Miri thought it was possibly hope.
Cass bowed low, his knee to the rich tile floor, his hand over his heart as his face rose to hers. “By my honor, by my soul, I swear to serve this realm with loyalty all the days that I live. May the gods grant me strength so that I may remain ever vigilant in my duty, the maiden wisdom so that I remain ever faithful in my cause. I vow to you, Myrina of Stormskeep, by my heart and my blood. I am yours.”
Miri swallowed back the urge to sob, a ridiculous hiccup of hysteria wanting to escape. She forced her emotions to steady and her voice not to tremble. “Then rise, Cassius of Stormskeep.” She felt her lip twitch into a smile. “A king of the realm will not be brought to his knees by anyone.”
Cass stood to face her, taking her trembling hands in his. His breath was a whisper over her skin, his eyes on nothing but her. His mouth had twisted into that lopsided grin, his expression one of wonder. “Only you, my queen.” He leaned closer to brush his lips against hers. “Only you.”
Thank you for Reading
Thank you for reading Seven Ways to Kill a King. If you enjoyed this book please leave a review, tell your friends, or check out more from Melissa Wright.
Read on for a preview of Between Ink and Shadows
What price do you put above your own life by stealing into the heart of a king’s house?
Freedom.
Between Ink and Shadows
Nimona Weston has a debt to pay. Her father’s dealings with the dark society known as the Trust cost Nim her freedom. There’s one way out of the contract on her life and that’s to bide her time and pay the tithes. But when the Trust assigns Nim to a task in the king’s own castle, her freedom is not the only thing she’ll risk.
Warrick Spenser has a secret. As king’s seneschal, he should be the last soul in Inara to risk association with dark magic, but long-hidden ties to the Trust are harder to shed than simply cutting the threads. When the Trust sends a thief to his rooms, Warrick thinks he’s finally found a way to be rid of them for good. But Nimona Weston is hiding secrets of her own.
Find it now.
Read on for a preview…
Also by Melissa Wright
- STANDALONE FANTASY -
Seven Ways to Kill a King
Between Ink and Shadows
- SERIES -
THE FREY SAGA
Frey
Pieces of Eight
Molly (a short story)
Rise of the Seven
Venom and Steel
Shadow and Stone
Feather and Bone
DESCENDANTS SERIES
Bound by Prophecy
Shifting Fate
Reign of Shadows
SHATTERED REALMS
King of Ash and Bone
Queen of Iron and Blood
- WITCHY PNR -
HAVENWOOD FALLS
Toil and Trouble
BAD MEDICINE
Blood & Brute & Ginger Root
Visit the author on the web at
www.melissa-wright.com
About the Author
Melissa is the author of more than a dozen YA and fantasy novels and countless to-do lists. She is currently working on the next book, but when not writing can be spotted collecting the things she loves at Goodreads and Pinterest. Contact her through the web at www.melissa-wright.com
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Preview: Between Ink and Shadows
Nimona Weston was about to do something dangerously foolish. It would not be the first foolish thing she’d done, but possibly the most dangerous. Her debt to the Trust had her tied to bargains and theft, to the sordid underbelly of society. She was born into it. But it was not where she would die. She would regain her freedom, even if she had to resort to underhanded tactics to get it.
They would not own her any longer.
She locked the b
edroom door behind her then walked barefoot across a rug-scattered floor to her wardrobe. Lace and beads stared back at her, but beyond them, well hidden from common view, waited slim black pants, a trim, long-tailed jacket, and tall boots. In short order, the day’s gown was draped over her chaise and Nim was dressed in clothes that would never be accepted among good society. She closed the wardrobe door, then took a long draw from the decanter on her desk. As the liquid burned through her lingering dread, Nim slid the hidden panel beside her bookshelf aside to stare into the darkness of a narrow corridor that would give her passage to the streets of Inara.
It was the turn of the moon. Time to pay the tithes.
The back streets of Inara were shadowed and damp, but the air was warm enough to remind Nim it was the change of another season. Springtide was well and truly gone and the promise she’d made to herself was one she’d been forced to break time and again. Promises broken were only what she’d come to expect, along with more than her share of unfortunate luck, but it would be different this time. She had no other choice.
Her boot splashed into a puddle and Nim glanced over her shoulder to be certain she was still alone. A few figures shifted among the shadows, men about the evening’s work who paid no mind to the dark-cloaked figure heading to a part of the city best left unnoticed. Kings had their crowns, but the Trust held the power. It didn’t matter how one was entangled with the Trust, whether it was the threat of debt, shame, fear of retribution, to be among court society meant one could never associate with those who dealt in magical favors.
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