The Rivaled Crown (The Veiled Kingdom, #3)

by Holly Renee

“No one in this rebellion will follow you, none of them will bow.” Verena only smiled. A slow, lethal thing before her hand slipped out of mine, and she leaned forward until she was only inches away from my father. “Your son already bows for me.”

“You are my father, but if you dare speak of my wife like that again, I will slit your throat and paint this city in your blood.”

I lifted my other hand and jerked up my sleeve, allowing the mark that glowed against my skin to be right in my father’s view. “I don’t want you to so much as look at my mate,” I growled as the mark glowed brighter, our magic between us raging to lash out at him.

“Your future queen is leaving,” I said firmly, and I felt Verena stiffen beside me. I felt her magic take in my words and slither back as if it, too, were waiting to see what I would do. “Kneel.” A beat of silence before my father’s laugh rang out. His hands curled into fists, his knuckles stark white against his skin. But one by one, the others stood. They all hesitated, their gazes flicking between Verena and my father, before the first finally dropped to his knee. Verena tugged at my hand, but I didn’t look away from them. Another knelt to the ground. And another. Verena inhaled sharply beside me, but she did not speak as the last man finally dropped to his knee. Every man except one.

“Everything is going to be okay,” he whispered softly, his arms tightening around me. I squeezed my eyes shut and let myself feel him, allowing his words to soothe over me. “You and me. Nothing else matters beyond that.”

“Then maybe we should give her to him. Give the king what he wants.” The words slammed into me, and for a moment, I didn’t breathe. A pained grunt cut through the room. A boot scraped against the stone floor. Someone cursed under their breath. Dacre’s magic lashed through the air, his body going rigid in front of me. I felt him, not just through the bond, but through the raw force of his fury, seeping into every inch of me. His rage curled like a living thing, wild and angry. His voice was low, lethal. “Say that again.”

“No one is going to touch you.” The words spoken didn’t fall from Dacre’s lips, and I blinked as I turned my head toward the sound. My gaze landed on my own fingers, clenching Kai’s forearm with such intensity that I’d almost drawn blood. “We will never let him touch you again.”

“I saw what happened that night. I saw who killed her.” Dacre’s breath hitched, and he took the smallest step back as if he had been hit. Eiran glanced back at his father once before his voice cracked. “It wasn’t the king.” A murmur rippled through the room, and Dacre’s father took a slow step forward, his expression darkening. “Careful with your next words, boy.” Eiran’s gaze snapped to him, and for the first time, I saw it. The raw fury barely held in check, the guilt that was eating him alive. “I watched your wife die,” Eiran whispered. “And I watched my father stand beside you all these years after he drove the blade through her chest.”

Dacre’s father didn’t look back at him, instead, he looked to his son, then past him to Wren, before he finally looked back to me. “I have been wrong about a great many things.” His voice didn’t shake, not anymore. “And I was wrong about you.” His words slammed into my chest. “I was wrong about this rebellion.” The mark on my wrist felt like it was going to burn me alive, but I didn’t dare look away from Dacre’s father. Not as he moved forward, not as he bent a knee. A gasp ripped through the room as he pressed a fist to the ground and dropped his head slightly. “I will follow you into war.” I didn’t breathe. I didn’t think anyone in the room did. “And I will fight beside you until the king is dead.”

There was no hesitation left in me, no more wavering over what I would do. I dropped to one knee, and Dacre’s father’s gaze snapped to mine. Dacre’s fingers tightened around my wrist. The mark throbbed between us, pulsing unlike I had ever felt before. “I will fight beside you.” My voice was steady. Strong. “Until the king is dead.” The tides had turned. And I knew when tomorrow dawned, we would march. Tomorrow, my father would fall.

“She would have loved you.” Verena’s breath hitched, but she didn’t pull away. “You think so?” “I know so,” I rasped. “You’re what she wanted for this kingdom. She died trying to save you.” My fingers tightened against her waist, and I could feel the ache in her chest as I said the words, feel her guilt. “And I will finish what she started.”

She was stunning. Her flushed skin, the curve of her lips, the way the water beaded along her collarbones, trailing lower, catching in the valley between her breasts. She was ruinous. And she was mine.

Wren shifted, her anxiety evident in the tense lines of her posture. “And if we don’t come back?” Dacre’s fingers curled around mine as he looked at his sister, really looked at her, and I could feel the warmth in my chest, the aching love he had for her. His voice was low, but it didn’t waver. “Then I will find you in the next life. All of you.” His words were a vow; they were a promise. “In the next life.” Kai nodded before he took Wren’s hand in his. He laced their fingers together, and he lifted her hand to his mouth, pressing a kiss to her knuckles. My chest ached as I watched them, but I couldn’t tell if it came from me or from Dacre.

A cruel, sick smile curved his lips. “My daughter,” he breathed before his gaze landed on Dacre at my back. “Is this the one you cried out for?” Dacre tensed for only a second before his roar filled the room, and before I could react, steel flashed through the air.

I lifted my hand, and he fell to his knees. His head snapped up, panic bleeding into his gaze, and I knew that he had never truly feared before this moment. Because he had never believed I could break him. But I reached inside myself for that power, for the bond he had forged between himself and the vessel of Marmoris. The one that had made him a god. I could see it now. The magic wrapped around him like a leash. A chain. I tightened my fist, wrapping my hand around it, and I tugged.

A man who had tried to break me, tried to make me his weapon. But I was never his. I was hers. I was Marmoris. I was Veyrith. I was the heir.

Magic roared to life inside me, a storm ready to break, but I didn’t reach for it. Instead, I reached for the dagger. I didn’t need magic for this. I wanted him to feel it. He had called me powerless for years. So when I took his life, it would be at my hand, and my hand alone. His powerless heir.

“You wanted a weapon,” I whispered, twisting the blade. “And you got one.”

And somewhere, someone whispered, “The king is dead.” A breath. A murmur. Then, “Long live the queen!” The words slammed into my chest, shot into the magic that still moved within me. I turned, and one by one, the room fell to their knees.

“You are mine," he whispered against my lips, his hands shaking where they held me. “I’m yours,” I murmured. "And you are mine.” His lips ghosted over mine, his voice nothing more than a breath. "In this life and every life after."

“The kingdom is right behind me,” she whispered, her voice trailing off with a laugh. “They cannot see their queen like this.” I grinned as I looked past her, my hands settling firmly on her hips. “No one will see us as long as you’re quiet.”

“I don’t think you’re supposed to speak to your queen that way.” She grinned, a fucking traitorous little grin, and I knew that I was going to devour her. “I could call for my guards right now and have you carried away.” I pressed my thumb hard against her clit through her underwear, and her hips surged forward, betraying her. “You wouldn’t dare.” “Wouldn’t I?” she asked so breathlessly. I smirked, dragging my thumb in slow, lazy circles over the lace covering her, feeling her body tremble beneath my hands. Her breath hitched, her fingers tightening in my hair. “Dacre…” I pressed a kiss to the inside of her thigh, right at the edge of where she wanted me most, deliberately slow, savoring the way she shivered beneath me. “I should have known,” I murmured, my lips brushing against her skin, “that even as my queen, you would still be a little traitor.”