Page 142 of Dance of Kings and Thieves

Her brow arched. “I was talking about everyone.”

“Sure you were.”

Elise chuckled. “Don’t come in and slaughter everyone. Let’s have a bit of tact as we take over a kingdom.”

The three women followed the holy man back toward his cottage. To have the man officiating Niall’s vows in my pocket was more than helpful. He was not a difficult mark to find. The Black Palace used the same folk to officiate ceremonies until they were too bleeding old to stand straight.

A little pressure when we first began our plans to scheme our way into the palace, and the old man broke. He’d admitted what would happen to his woman should the palace ever discover the truth of their relationship.

Turns of hiding had grown the man a rather delightful bitterness toward House Grym I’d used to break the last of his resolve. He’d given us an eye within the palace and given us our in to rid ourselves of a final threat.

Right on time, a line of fine coaches rumbled down the path toward the white cottage.

Tradition demanded a future bride be blessed by a man of the gods before her vows. Rather foolish of Niall to send the royals of the South with so few guards. It was almost insulting how confident the bastard was that he would not lose this fight.

The officiator stood amongst the courtiers who were called to be chaperones of their princess.

Signe emerged from the coach, and I despised Niall and Astrid even more. She couldn’t have been older than sixteen. A skinny thing with big, owl-like eyes and a weak chin. A bleeding girl who hadn’t grown into her own features yet.

The holy man bowed his head as she strode past. I had to give it to the princess, she was terrified, but kept her shoulders back as she approached the three women.

Before any further passengers could emerge from the royal coach, I looked over my shoulder at the others, grinning. “Fight to the end.”

In a rush, we burst from the cornfield. The guards who’d accompanied Astrid and Signe sprang into action. They didn’t last long. Isak darkened the minds of most. The guards screamed and dug at their faces.

Fiske slit their throats, one step behind his husband.

Sluagh wings burst out of battle fatigues. Fangs bared, the blood fae descended upon us. I held out a hand. Thick ropes of black wrapped around necks and wings. I clenched my fist, and the bones of the sluagh crushed. Their bodies thudded to the ground like pounding drums.

Hagen blocked mesmer, glamour, and every other source of magic. Gunnar and Raum ended the stunned guards with steel.

I gathered darkness, shading the whole damn sun, and ripped open the door of the finest coach.

Inside, Astrid held up a rope made of flames. The gleam of the fiery bursts on the strand ignited the queen’s pale face in a golden sheen. Astrid’s hair was the color of rich sapphires with two silver strands in the front of her hairline. The shell of one pointed ear was pierced from tip to lobe, and her eyes were such a pale blue they seemed almost silver.

The queen snapped her fire rope in a warning. Ari had explained enough about those ropes to know that once bound, there was no escaping until the queen released you. Beside the queen was the troll.

With a rushed breath, Astrid shrieked at Hodag. “Go! Get help for your queen, you fool!”

Hodag rushed into action. I mocked a quick swipe for the troll, but she was out the window and burrowing away in two breaths.

I hoped she’d find her way to Malin to tell her we were coming.

Astrid turned her gaze back to me. True, the queen had her fire ropes, but she had fear too.

A great deal of it.

One slice of my hand and the blaze of her glamoured rope faded into nothing.

Astrid’s eyes widened. “How—”

I had my hand around the queen’s throat in another breath. “When you fear your glamour will not be enough to stop me, well, it’s quite simple to make it so.”

The queen’s breaths grew heavy. She glared back at me. “Here to kill me, shadow worker?”

“No,” I said. “Your fate will be given to your son.”

“My son is a prisoner,” she spat.