Page 63 of Bloody Black

A ll William ever wanted was my throne, so I suppose it’s fitting that he’ll die sitting on it.

Originally, my plan was to tie him to the armrests and flay him alive.

Cut off one limb at a time, and gleefully torture him for weeks.

But now? After all we’ve been through? I’ll just slit his throat.

Quickly and quietly, then dump him off a balcony.

The sea can deal with his body, carry it far from the shores of my kingdom. Let the sharks tear his flesh apart.

I don’t really care, as long as I don’t have to touch him.

Even if the only reason I’d see his dick again would be to cut it off, I am simply not in the mood. I’d like to just get this over with. Plus, now that I’ve discovered the joys of tying Robb to a chair, I don’t really want to sully the concept.

Better to kill William some other way, in a different place. I don’t want this ordeal to give me even more nightmares .

We emerge on the other end of the passage, another hidden door behind a bronze unicorn, and I peer up and down the corridor before gesturing them through. To his safe room.

The sick bastard insisted that his safe room be the place where we consummated our marriage. Maybe I’ll murder him in that bed. That would be fitting, wouldn’t it?

“He’s in there,” I tell the group, pointing at a door halfway down the hall. The door is carved oak, reinforced with strips of bronze—shiny from overuse, the edges worn from a hand that has touched it nightly. “One of the spies confirmed it.”

We stand there for a breath, all of us staring at that door.

Domino mutters a curse, her voice low enough that only I catch it. Tremaine rolls his shoulders once, loosening them.

This is it: Blackbeard’s last stand. Every scar, every plan, every night at sea has led me here. Back to where it all began. But between us and that door are five sentries, all of them huge and wickedly armed.

Domino tilts her head toward the door. “We kicking it in? Or would you rather I knock?” A smile still tips the corners of her mouth, and I shake my head.

“Even as we stand at the brink of possible death, you’re laughing?”

“He who laughs last…” Samson begins.

“Please shut up,” Tremaine shushes him. “This is not the right time.”

Somewhere deeper in the wing, a clock ticks, slow and steady, mocking my pulse.

“We could lure the guards out. ”

“That’s what I’m thinking. Best to just make them come to us, than trick whoever is inside into opening the door.”

“Where’s Teach? And Xandretta?” Domino asks abruptly. “They both went to find you.”

Without meaning to, I picture Teach’s easy grin, Xandretta’s sharp eyes, and my hand goes slack on the dagger. I don’t want to tell the truth about Teach. Yet I can’t bear lying to them.

“Teach is dead.” I nod slowly, without looking at her, chewing my lip. “Venka killed him.”

Domino takes a moment to process this. “And Xan?”

“Don’t know.” I swallow audibly, looking away. “I never saw her. But if she’s not here…”

There’s no need to finish that thought.We all know that if our djinn is not with us, she’s dead. She would never be anywhere other than right by our side. My heart sinking, I realize that Xandretta’s body is lying somewhere in this castle.

I’ll never know what happened; hell, we might never even find her.

Grief is something we can’t afford right now. Not when we’re within a breath of William’s door. Tremaine seems to understand, because he starts giving us orders. “We go in, quick and quiet. Make it clean. No need to draw it out. Then all this will be done.”

He’s right. By tomorrow, this will be behind us. I’ll be queen or I’ll be dead, the crows eating whatever is left of me.

Domino rolls her shoulders like she’s limbering up for a dance, the tip of one knife glinting. “Let’s go, Captain. ”

With a deep breath, I step around the corner, plainly in view. “Looking for us?”

William’s guards are slow to move; one hand drifts toward a blade. The other seems completely confused. It’s probably because I’m a woman. It’s only once they notice the sword in my hands that they stumble into action.

The largest one lumbers toward me.

Dodging one of his meaty fists, I spin and, with a single stab, split his abdomen like a roasted chicken. The guard screams, buckling forward, and I slam his head into the wall hard enough to cave in his skull. His body convulses. One down.

A boot suddenly catches my side and sends me sprawling—face-first into the slick of red pool across the stones.

I slip, grunting as my sword skitters away.

Behind me, Tremaine shouts, and the thunder of footfalls rushes toward my head.

I claw for the blade with bloody hands, nails scraping uselessly, and just as he lunges, I roll.

The guard’s sword glances off my shoulder, slicing shallow, and I jam the dagger upward beneath his chin with a wet squelch.

Two.

Another jumps from the shadows. Even when injured, I’m faster than him. When he reaches for my wrist, Tremaine grabs him around the waist, flipping him over his shoulder and flat onto his back. Domino drives a dagger between his ribs.

The guard’s eyes go wide. He gurgles.

“Three,” she says pleasantly, and yanks her dagger from his chest.

A fourth comes at us shouting, trying to be brave, but his hands are shaking. He’s smarter than the three previous guards, and he uses a feint and false trip, stabbing upward. Domino dodges, but not fast enough, and the blade grazes her right side, slicing open her skin.

Winded, she staggers back, and crimson drips from a wound at her ribs. She touches it, then glances at the blood on her hand. “Well damn. You’ve ruined my dress.”

Younger, faster, his next swing is wild. He lunges left, she goes right. But Tremaine, totally forgotten, steps in. His dagger lands beneath the man’s chin, cutting his vocal chords at the same time as his throat.

The guard gasps, jerks, then presses his hand to his throat with a look of horror. He can’t even scream for help.

Meanwhile, I step from the shadows. “Four.”

The fifth? Did he run off? I glance around and discover the other guard slumped against the wall, a sword shoved through his chest. Dead.

“Oh. We were counting! Five!” Tremaine announces, yanking his dagger free. “My apologies.”

“Is that all of them?”

“No,” I reply, jiggling the handle. Unsurprisingly, it’s locked. “There’s still whoever is inside.”

I wrap my fingers around the hilt of my sword, still wet, and point with my chin. “We’ll have to knock it down.”

We can hear boots pounding from the far hall; we have seconds to get inside before reinforcements arrive.

Samson braces himself against the door, taking up nearly the entire frame.

Tremaine sets his shoulder beside mine. We all slam into the wood in unison, and the oak groans, then splinters.

Our third hit shatters the lock entirely, sending the door swinging open with a crack like breaking bone.

The smell hits me first: beeswax polish, wine, and something faintly familiar, making my stomach turn sour. William stands at the far side of the room, his sword half drawn, golden hair immaculate, his mouth frozen mid-command. His face twists in a mix of horror and disbelief.

“Anne. You’re alive.”

“I am,” I reply. “And what an unpleasant surprise for you.”

I step into the room, Domino and Tremaine behind me.

“What do you mean?” William laughs nervously. “I’m thrilled.”

Behind him, Genevieve looks aghast, her hand drifting up to rest near her throat.

“Aren’t you getting married? I wouldn’t want to interrupt that.”

Genevieve touches his arm. “Will?” Her voice is so soft, like downy duck feathers compared to the stoniness of his eyes. “What should we do?”

The small gesture forces him to remember that she’s there, listening. “Nothing, darling. She… died. There’s no way I could have known—”

I cut him off, speaking directly to her. My sister, who so far hasn’t even greeted me. “Except he did know. He planned to kill me. Him and his men. Everything that happened, it was all him. ”

William shakes his head. “You’re imagining things. It was a coup, Anne. Targeting your father.”

I ignore him. “It was all a ruse. He never loved me, just like he doesn’t love you. He wanted my crown. Now that he has that, he wants legitimacy. Once you give him an heir, he’ll probably murder you too.”

“Don’t be absurd.” William turns, putting his arms around her. “You’re scaring my wife.”

But she isn’t his wife, not yet. They’re only about two hours into that ridiculous ceremony.

His gaze flicks past my shoulder, to the new figure in the doorway. I can feel the change in the air, a distinct briny sea smell. And with that, a keen sense of relief washes over me.

Samson.

He steps close, his broad chest almost touching my back, towering up behind me.

All seven feet of him. He doesn’t even have to say anything.

He’s in full pirate regalia, armed to the teeth and ready for a siege.

Two pistols, two swords, at least three daggers…

Obviously, he isn’t there to be friendly.

“What exactly do you think you’re doing?” William asks, sounding affronted.

“Taking what’s rightfully mine. I assume you know how that works.”

“You’ve come to challenge me?”

“I don’t think you’ll be much of a challenge,” I say, voice sweet as honey.

“Aye. This is Blackbeard, scourge of the seas, killer of men,” Samson replies .

William looks surprised, but only for a blink.

“This is the end,” I tell him. “You’re cornered, nowhere left to run. Your lies will finally be brought to light.”

William smiles, a slow dawn of sinister glee on his expression. He chuckles. “Do you think I didn’t know you were coming? Do you think I’d leave my own house unguarded?”

Torches flare to life along the walls, one after another, revealing half a dozen men.

Steel rasps as swords are drawn, over-loud in the large room. Although it had seemed empty, the chamber is thick with soldiers, shadows peeling away from the walls. Boots scrape over the stone as they close in, forming a crescent around the four of us.

My stomach sinks.

“You came to surprise me, but walked unwittingly right into my trap.” William shakes his head. “You could have just moved on. Had a nice life, somewhere out in the world, and left the crown to me.”

It’s true. I might have tried that. But I couldn’t—I was too angry. No matter how far apart we were, his shadow remained. My scars were a ledger of everything he took from me, every bit of horror and pain.

“Only one of us can be monarch.” I draw my dagger, point it toward him. “And it isn’t you.”

Samson shifts behind me, pulling a pistol free. Levels it squarely at William’s heart. “The truth will have the final word.”

William snickers, then composes himself. “That’s what you think. ”

And that’s when his men attack us, a heavy swarm of buzzing bees. They surge out of the shadows all at once, boots pounding, faces hard and angry. None of them seem to recognize me, or if they do, he’s paid them enough to forget that I am their true sovereign.

Nevertheless, our group fights fearlessly.

Domino moves like a dancer, swift and precise, her knives flashing silver in the torchlight.

Tremaine’s blade sings, clean and brutal, and a spray of blood mists the air before spattering across the marble.

Samson’s pistol roars like a thunderclap, and one of William’s men crumples where he stands.

A blade whistles past my ribs as I duck low, slamming my shoulder into someone’s stomach. He’s a broad-shouldered brute, all plated leather, smelling like old sweat. He grunts at the impact, falling backward into a pillar.

Another soldier barrels toward me, diverting my focus from William. He comes in at an angle, sword raised high, but I parry his strike, the clash of steel jarring all the way up my arm. The force of it drives me back a step, boots sliding in blood, but I twist with the momentum.

“Stop,” William’s voice rings out. “I cannot abide this fighting.”

I whirl to face him, and get the shock of my life: Domino is on her knees. His blade at her throat.

Tremaine freezes mid-swing, chest heaving, eyes wide.

Samson lifts his pistol, but I fling my hand out to stop him—the wrong move here, and Domino will be dead before we can blink.

The truth hits me like a fist to the teeth: as soon as William kills me, he’ll eliminate them.

Every last one, until we are naught but a memory.

Tremaine shifts behind me, a growl rumbling from his chest .

“Take me,” I say abruptly. “Your quarrel is not with her.” As soon as the words pass my lips I know they’re a mistake. I can tell by his smile, a dark sinister thing.

William has realized I care . “These pirates? Are they not the ones you’ve had killing my men?”

“Please.” The word tastes like ash on my tongue. “Let her go. This is between you and me, and it always has been. Kill me if that’s what you want, but don’t hurt them.”

William’s grin widens, slow and cutting. “So the great Blackbeard has a weakness after all.” The tip of his blade presses deeper, dimpling the pale skin of Domino’s throat until a bead of blood wells up.

Her breath saws in and out, quick and sharp, but she doesn’t beg. Domino would never lower herself.

The dagger in my hand falls to the marble with a soft clatter.

My mind is whirling, cataloguing every step, every angle…

The placement of Samson behind me, the flicker of a torch in my peripheral, the fact that William’s attention is entirely on me.

Waiting to see if I’ll trade my vengeance for her life, if I’ll finally break.

“Don’t do it, Captain. Don’t give in.” Her blue eyes plead with me. “He doesn’t deserve to win.”

Slowly, I sink down, every movement deliberate, never looking away. A deep, royal, curtsy.

William strides across the room, then reaches down and grips my chin, forcing my gaze to his. And for a moment, the years melt away. I can almost forget that he never loved me; that he convinced my guards to kill me. Can almost forget that he stole my kingdom, murdered its king .

“Good girl,” he says roughly, mistaking my surrender for defeat.

A throat clears.

It’s only then that I notice who has stepped from the shadows behind him. Cold and calm, smooth as seaglass and dressed in blue. His eyes sweep the room, lingering over me.

The man who claimed his heart was mine. Who called me his .

There’s no hint of that man in Robb’s face. His smile is that of a stranger, ruthless and cruel—and in that instant, my blood runs cold.

“Welcome home, Princess,” Robb says, his voice low. “We’ve been expecting you.”