King for a Day (The King Trilogy #2)(25)
Author: Mimi Jean Pamfiloff

“Why? Why is the story so important to you? Just tell me what you want me to know.” Why did my head hurt so badly? Why did I feel so intoxicated around him?

“It will show you what to expect from me.”

My mind tried to pull the pieces together, but there were simply too many impossible answers popping up. “I don’t understand.”

He swooped down and pulled me up by the front of my sweater. Deep purple lights danced in his pupils. “Understand this, Miss Turner: You have now been warned.”

~~

King disappeared in the blink of an eye, and of course, I frantically scrambled to the book. My eyes searched for the answers he wanted me to find.

“Holy Christ.” I paused. Had that been real? Had King just been here? Or was I going mad? Because if he had been, then why wasn’t he trying to help us with the 10 Club issue? I couldn’t believe he wouldn’t intervene, risking a forfeit of all his possessions.

Whatever was happening, my trembling hands had already started the task of searching for the spot where I’d left off.

“Here.” I skimmed the words quickly as Hagne described the events of that day, the family fighting amongst each other, and the bloodshed that broke out as the men of the island took sides over who they thought should be their ruler. Hagne seemed to enjoy every bit of the chaos and death prior to the event.

But as the sword fight began, I and the five hundred others in the stadium held our breaths, watching the display of sheer power and bottomless ferocity. Both men, equal in size and speed, swung with the force of giants and the gracefulness of well-trained warriors. The awe I felt, however, rapidly disintegrated into despair when I took in Draco’s large arms and the muscles stacked upon his broad chest. He had been blessed with a swift elegance that Callias lacked, and it was then that my heart began to wonder if Callias might have chosen poorly. Why had he challenged his brother to a fight when poison would have been a surer victory? But Callias had believed poison to be the tool of cowards. He refused to dishonor his brother or his family in such a way. Fool.

Or perhaps the fool was I to believe that Callias’s ferocity and determination would make him undefeatable. I had not anticipated that both brothers, equal in age but for a few minutes, would not have received the same training. Evidently, they had not. Draco’s comfort with a sword was superior, his confidence and control displayed with every step and swing. His pale gray eyes, so patient, waiting and watching Callias’s every move.

He will win, I thought. No, I pray to thee, gods, to let Callias be victorious.

When Draco swung hard and knocked Callias to his back, I stood and screamed. It was then that Draco looked at me and saw what I felt, not for him, but for the man in the dirt, his twin brother. Callias rolled away and rebounded to his feet, sword ready. Draco stared at Callias and begged him to say that it was not true.

Callias, such a fool, told him that I was his as was the child in my belly. “As will be your throne and your head.”

Those words only provided fuel for Draco’s anger. He swung again, and this time he landed the blade in Callias’s neck. I screamed and rushed to Callias. But what could I do? There was so much blood. Blood everywhere. His headless body lay on the ground, twitching, while Draco called me a whore and condemned me to death in front of his family, my family, and our people. It was then that I told him I would prefer a thousand deaths than to spend one day with such a pathetic, disgusting, and weak man not fit to rule a pile of shit.

Draco scooped up the dirt, mixed with the blood of his brother’s neck, and forced it into my mouth while everyone watched. It was only because I carry a child that he did not execute me on the spot, but he promised that as soon as the child came, he would take it and—

“Miss Turner, there you are,” said a woman’s voice.

My head snapped up to the doorway of King’s chamber. It was Miranda wearing a leopard bodysuit, her bleached hair in a tight bun atop her head. Next to her stood her boy-toy Edward, who wore a hideous, bright-green jogging suit that had obviously been picked by his “owner.”

I glanced at the clock on the wall. They weren’t due at King’s office for another forty minutes. And how the hell did she know about this place?

Shit. Try not to look surprised. Be calm.

“You’re early,” I said casually as I closed the book. “And you’re in the wrong place.”

“Well,” Miranda’s eyes scanned King’s chamber, “if you can barge into my home, then I can barge into yours.” She leisurely strolled toward the shelves as if she had all the time in the world, slow as mud.

“This isn’t my home; it’s King’s,” I pointed out.

She shrugged. “Not for much longer, I hear.”

Oh no. She knew about the deadline from the Club.

Don’t panic.

“You’re referring to the letter that Talia delivered yesterday?” I tried to sound amused.

She laughed. “What else?”

“I guess you saw her, and she told you all about it. Perhaps she also told you how to find this place?”

She shrugged happily and ran her fingers over the books on the shelf. “Hmmm…So many interesting things here. It would be a shame to see them fall into the wrong person’s hands.”

“King isn’t about to give up his possessions, and you, of all people, should know not to trust Talia.”

Miranda squinted with her thickly caked lashes. “You’re an idiot if you think anyone trusts anyone. And you’re a bigger idiot for trusting me.”

Crap. King was right. She was going to double-cross me. “You think I don’t know you’re not worth trusting? That you wouldn’t come through on your end of the deal?” Okay, I’d hoped she would, but now I needed to buy time and think of what I would do next.

“Huh! I never welch. Never.”

I stood from the armchair and set down the book, wondering what the hell sort of curve ball she was about to throw my way.

Miranda snapped her fingers, and in walked Vaughn.

Oh shit.

He had one arm—yes, that arm—in a sling, tucked underneath his puke-green tweed blazer that matched his puke-green polyester pants. His straggly silver hair hung down in clumpy wisps around his ruddy face, and a snide smile occupied his thin lips.

As for me, there was no more hiding my emotions. I was shocked as hell and out of party tricks, so I simply braced for what was about to come.

“As you see, Miss Turner,” said Miranda, “I have delivered. There is Edward, all ready for you, and I’ve delivered that hand, as promised.” She pointed to Vaughn’s bandaged arm. “In fact, I’ve delivered two of them.” She grinned and flashed her artificially whitened teeth. “Your turn!”