Cordova jumped at
the loud, insistent knock at her door, nearly dropping the brush
she’d been running through her long curtain of black hair.
Setting it carefully on the vanity, she rose from her chair. She
thought briefly about taking a moment to tuck her hair underneath her
cap, but she knew that if it were her employer she would be scolded
for keeping her waiting so she dutifully rushed out.
Taking a deep
breath, she crossed the room and opened the door to see Lady Alice
Grey, lady-in-waiting to King Lyon and her employer, waiting, flanked
by two royal guards. Cordova’s eyes immediately jumped to the
envelope fisted in the Lady’s skeletally thin hand, and her
heart hammered against her chest.
“ How may I be
of service, my Lady?” she asked, struggling to keep her voice
steady. She started to bow, but her head snapped back as Lady Grey’s
free hand shot out, cracking against her face.
“ You stupid
wench,” she snapped, black eyes cold in contrast to the spots
of color in her bony cheeks. “Did you really think you could
get away with this?”
“ I-I-I don’t
know what you mean,” Cordova stammered, clutching her stinging
cheek even as her eyes darted back to the envelope. She knew very
well what the Lady meant, but that didn’t mean she was going to
give in right away. Even if she couldn’t see a way out of this
predicament.
Lady Grey ripped the
letter out of the envelope and waved it in front of her face. “One
of my secretaries intercepted this letter yesterday. In it you write
of unspeakable accusations against the King—outlandish tales of
high taxes, poverty, unfair justice systems.”
Cordova lifted her
chin. “They are not outlandish tales. The King overtaxes his
people, fattens the rich and starves the poor, and beheads or
imprisons anyone who dares to question his command. He is nothing
more than a barbarian and a tyrant.”
One of the guards
stepped up, a pair of heavy manacles hanging loosely in his hands.
“Such accusations are treasonous, Miss Thomas, and will not be
tolerated by King Lyon or the people of Margon. You’re going to
have to come with us.”
A tremor of fear
rippled through her, and she felt her legs suddenly weaken, barely
able to hold her up. “What are you going to do with me? Will
you behead me like the others?” she accused even as she allowed
the guard to secure the manacles around her wrists.
The guard met her
gaze steadily, and Cordova saw no mercy in his eyes. “That will
be for the King to decide.”
****
King Lyon tapped his
fingers restlessly on the arm of his throne as he watched his latest
subject be escorted from the throne room in heavy chains. His heart
had long been hardened against his people’s pleas for mercy.
They should know by now that he rarely had any to spare, and to stay
out of trouble. If they dared to step over the lines that had been
crossed for them, they knew the punishment he would swiftly mete out.
In truth, he
actually detested killing his own people, but he did not gain all
that he had by ruling from the teat. A heavy hand would teach the
people of Margon to refrain from questioning his rule. He had learned
from his father that a King is better feared, than loved.
“ Send in the
next accused,” he drawled, bored by the monotony. He understood
the necessity of holding these courts—those who stepped over
the line had to be punished, after all—but it was all so very
tedious. He would much rather be in the war room with his
strategists, or out in the fields engaging in sport. Or
perhaps between the sheets with a willing woman. His lips
curled at the thought. He desperately needed a new mistress. Someone
who could entertain him, and give him some much-needed relief. He
certainly had his share of women and even those who secretly opposed
being bedded would never dare to deny him. Perhaps he would choose
one this afternoon.
The guards brought
in a woman, and Lyon blinked, before sitting up straight to get a
better look
the loud, insistent knock at her door, nearly dropping the brush
she’d been running through her long curtain of black hair.
Setting it carefully on the vanity, she rose from her chair. She
thought briefly about taking a moment to tuck her hair underneath her
cap, but she knew that if it were her employer she would be scolded
for keeping her waiting so she dutifully rushed out.
Taking a deep
breath, she crossed the room and opened the door to see Lady Alice
Grey, lady-in-waiting to King Lyon and her employer, waiting, flanked
by two royal guards. Cordova’s eyes immediately jumped to the
envelope fisted in the Lady’s skeletally thin hand, and her
heart hammered against her chest.
“ How may I be
of service, my Lady?” she asked, struggling to keep her voice
steady. She started to bow, but her head snapped back as Lady Grey’s
free hand shot out, cracking against her face.
“ You stupid
wench,” she snapped, black eyes cold in contrast to the spots
of color in her bony cheeks. “Did you really think you could
get away with this?”
“ I-I-I don’t
know what you mean,” Cordova stammered, clutching her stinging
cheek even as her eyes darted back to the envelope. She knew very
well what the Lady meant, but that didn’t mean she was going to
give in right away. Even if she couldn’t see a way out of this
predicament.
Lady Grey ripped the
letter out of the envelope and waved it in front of her face. “One
of my secretaries intercepted this letter yesterday. In it you write
of unspeakable accusations against the King—outlandish tales of
high taxes, poverty, unfair justice systems.”
Cordova lifted her
chin. “They are not outlandish tales. The King overtaxes his
people, fattens the rich and starves the poor, and beheads or
imprisons anyone who dares to question his command. He is nothing
more than a barbarian and a tyrant.”
One of the guards
stepped up, a pair of heavy manacles hanging loosely in his hands.
“Such accusations are treasonous, Miss Thomas, and will not be
tolerated by King Lyon or the people of Margon. You’re going to
have to come with us.”
A tremor of fear
rippled through her, and she felt her legs suddenly weaken, barely
able to hold her up. “What are you going to do with me? Will
you behead me like the others?” she accused even as she allowed
the guard to secure the manacles around her wrists.
The guard met her
gaze steadily, and Cordova saw no mercy in his eyes. “That will
be for the King to decide.”
****
King Lyon tapped his
fingers restlessly on the arm of his throne as he watched his latest
subject be escorted from the throne room in heavy chains. His heart
had long been hardened against his people’s pleas for mercy.
They should know by now that he rarely had any to spare, and to stay
out of trouble. If they dared to step over the lines that had been
crossed for them, they knew the punishment he would swiftly mete out.
In truth, he
actually detested killing his own people, but he did not gain all
that he had by ruling from the teat. A heavy hand would teach the
people of Margon to refrain from questioning his rule. He had learned
from his father that a King is better feared, than loved.
“ Send in the
next accused,” he drawled, bored by the monotony. He understood
the necessity of holding these courts—those who stepped over
the line had to be punished, after all—but it was all so very
tedious. He would much rather be in the war room with his
strategists, or out in the fields engaging in sport. Or
perhaps between the sheets with a willing woman. His lips
curled at the thought. He desperately needed a new mistress. Someone
who could entertain him, and give him some much-needed relief. He
certainly had his share of women and even those who secretly opposed
being bedded would never dare to deny him. Perhaps he would choose
one this afternoon.
The guards brought
in a woman, and Lyon blinked, before sitting up straight to get a
better look
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