Page 139

Chapter 39

Something was wrong.

Luc approached the square, following behind the guard, but he had expected announcements, or at least someone addressing the crowd, but it was quiet.

A group of people in front of him broke apart, and he caught sight of a slight woman in gold brocade on a platform, trying not to pace, and trying not to show any emotion.

What was leaking from her was rage and impatience.

She had chosen an interesting setting for this confrontation.

The square was lined with beautiful, three story houses, with old, established trees in their small front gardens.

Men and women in finery stood on balconies looking down, although the people standing around the platform wore more modest clothing.

The queen wanted all her subjects to witness this.

That the only person who stood on the platform with her was a general of the Kassian army was interesting, too.

Luc had heard the queen had become more and more paranoid about her advisers, relying on them less and less.

She stood all but alone in this piece of theater.

The guard leading him stopped at the wooden steps up to the platform and whispered to one of the two uniformed palace guards, and one went to murmur quietly to the queen.

She looked at him with dislike and a hint of panic.

The general turned to face him, as did the second set of palace guards at the other end of the platform.

“Weapons.” The palace guard held out a hand, and Luc unbuckled his sword from his back and the knife at his belt.

He was patted down, and his boots checked, and then the guard stood back with a grunt.

“The Turncoat King.” The queen turned as Luc climbed up to the platform, her voice strident.

The crowd suddenly hushed as they realized he had arrived.

He smiled at the pettiness of her words. It gave him permission for his own. “Child Stealer,” he said to her.

She flinched back visibly, her composure gone.

The crowd began to murmur again, but there was a tone to it, an undercurrent.

Something rose in the queen’s eyes, a complex mix of fear and hate, and she flicked her hand out at her side.

An arrow slammed into his back.

It hurt, a little, but no more than a training hit.

Luc turned and stared down at the broken shaft lying behind him.

Ava had said his knitted tunic would either be the best protection he had ever had or a failure.

Except nothing of hers had ever failed, that he could see.

Another arrow flew toward him, this time aimed at his head, but he heard the whistle as it flew and leaned back slightly. It sped past his nose and narrowly missed the queen herself.

Her scream was panicked and high-pitched, and the crowd was suddenly shouting and screaming as well.