Page 49 of Caroline the Cruel
Murmurs erupted across the crowd and his brother staggered to his feet, rushing across the dais, pointing a finger, and barking orders at alarmed guards while raising the other hand protectively to shield his wife behind him. Breicher would give it to the pair. They may not be faithful to each other, but they were loyal.
A flood of guards burst into motion, scrambling to get to the unwelcome visitors.
Caroline didn’t move, but every individual in that room which held over three hundred dropped to their knees in unison. She cocked her head and the corner of her garnet lips ticked up. Breicher couldn’t tear his eyes away from the woman who would be his wife. He’d never seen anything more terrifyingly beautiful. Powerful, self-assured. Dominant.
He wanted to possess her in that moment with every fiber of his being. Fully and completely consume the woman standing before him. Take her into him like a fine wine, swallowing the burn down until it scorched the deepest part of him. He was becoming lightheaded at the intoxicating thought. If they weren’t in a room, surrounded by hundreds of people, he would have taken her right then, unable to resist her lure.
As if sensing his smoldering thoughts, her gaze drifted to his. Platinum on the outside of her irises were lit from within. He’d only ever seen them do that once—moments before their first kiss.
Hollis’s raging voice slashed through the memory.
His brother was at the foot of the dais on his knees, trembling as he tried to look up at the queen who sauntered in his direction.
It was like Breicher’s whole body had been dipped in a frozen lake, shattering any illusion he might have. Caroline was here to take the crown from his brother. The very fact that he was standing next to her and had not completed his mission was betrayal enough.
The war inside him blazed exactly as she’d intended with her punishment. In that moment, he knew if he ever acted on his desires, he would be done for. Hers completely, body and soul. So, he resolved he would never enjoy his wife, the way a husband should. She may be able to force him to marry her, but he didn’t believe she was sick enough to force him to bed her.
Hollis glowered up at Breicher then. “You’ve failed us,” Hollis said and the dagger in his brother’s gaze twisted in his chest. When Hollis learned what Caroline had planned, whenever she told him they were to be married, it would break his heart.
Caroline stared down at her soon-to-be brother-in-law, theformerKing of Veetula. “Enough. Rise,” she commanded and released the power from him and him only.
Hollis shot to his feet and jolted toward Caroline. To her surprise, Breicher stepped between them, placing his palms on his brother’s chest. “Don’t, Hollis. We can’t stop her.”
Caroline snorted. It was true enough. She’d been assessing the limits of her new power since she’d stolen it from the Gods and left them withering husks in their cold marble home. Prince Breicher was right. They were at her mercy, and the sooner they came to terms with that, the better.
Breicher stepped back into place beside her, and she got her first full look at the man she’d come to dethrone. He was fifteen or twenty years older than his brother, but still as robust, and shredded with rippling muscle. Standing beside each other, she saw the resemblance between them, the hard planes and angles of their faces, their towering height, a foot taller than most men, and their striking luminescent jewel toned eyes. His tan skin and dark ochre hair popped from the dazzling mustard suit that hugged his unyielding form.
Faint lines traced across Hollis’s face, especially pronounced between his eyebrows and jutting out from his frown. She stared at him unabashedly, thinking of the Gift the Ivanslohe’s had chosen from the Gods.
“What is it you want, Cruel Queen?” he hissed between clenched teeth.
“Strength,” she mused.
Both he and Breicher said, “What?” at the same time.
“Your family chose strength. When the Gods made their offerings to the divided kingdoms all those years ago. That is what your family had asked them for, wasn’t it?”
“Not just strength,” Breicher corrected. “Vitality, health. It is why children of royal birth have such a low mortality rate.”
“And how the sons have the physiques of storied warrior gods and the sex drive to go with it?” Caroline raised an eyebrow at Breicher and ran a possessive fingertip from his shoulder to his elbow and he shivered under her touch. The twitch of his cheek told her he was repressing a prideful grin. “Interesting how the threads of fate have unwound.”
“The people of Veetula will never submit to a usurper. A woman who is their very definition of terror. An Ivanslohe will die on this throne or Veetula will be no more. The people will not stand for anything less.”
Caroline lifted her chin and walked up the steps of the dais. When she approached the silver throne carved from knotty ash trees, she paused and ran her hands across the sleek wood, like she’d first done with her own throne in the Great Hall of Roskide. Her ivory gown swished around as she positioned herself right in front of it. It was so quiet it was as if the entire crowd was holding a collective breath. Then she sat.
The Ivanslohe throne wasn’t like the one her father had made her. The assassins had overlooked the smaller thrones when they’d come, only destroying her father and his wife’s elaborate chairs, two relics of a different time, much like the one she sat in.
Caroline made to evaluate the chair, leaning back, and shifting her weight around in it. “No, you’re right, Prince Hollis. This throne won’t do at all.”
His eyes peeled back in horror at what he believed she was suggesting. He had no idea what she was capable of. “I’ll have to have something more suitable made, of course, for my time here, but I would never let such fine craftsmanship, such an important family heirloom, go to waste.”
The air in the room seemed to deflate. She eyed Breicher, whose face was narrowly holding in the shock she expected he was feeling. Caroline hadn’t told him about her plans. It would be a long while, if ever, before she relied on or even trusted him. The scales of his heart were too heavily weighted in favor of Veetula. But he would see, and eventually,soonshe vowed to herself, he would be hers. Truly hers. He’d been right. She’d never wanted something so much before.
That he’d tried to take her life—almost succeeded was a strange aphrodisiac. Perhaps she had met her equal. A partner to rule with her and unite the kingdoms again.
“Prince Breicher,” Caroline called, waving her refined hand toward the seat she’d vacated. “Please. I think it will suit you much better than it does me. We’ll have something uniquely crafted for my needs.
She’d told him she wouldn’t make him kill his family if he’d cooperated. They were still in the punishment phase of the relationship. Caroline just hoped he wouldn’t test her. It wouldn’t do to kill off the royal family before she addressed the people.
