Page 83 of Caroline the Cruel
The man, an Ivanslohe by the deep shade of blue of his eyes, blinked as he scrambled back like she was the collapsing ledge of a cliff, and he was moments from tumbling into the ravine below.
“I’m going to let you speak if you promise not to yell. Sound good?” she asked, sitting up on the edge of the bed.
He nodded vigorously.
“What were you doing a second ago?” Caroline leaned forward, placing her hands on the bed on either side of her and the man, a cousin of Hollis’s.
“Checking to see if you were still breathing.”
Caroline gave him a surprised face. “Quick thinking, but try again.” A thought and she had ahold of him, and had him trembling before he admitted, “I wanted to see what all the fuss was about. I wanted…” The man gagged even as sweat formed on his brow. “I wanted to know what was so great that Prince Breicher would betray his own family for it.”
“I see. So, you were going to have a little sample?” she asked, wondering how much of a taste the man would have taken had she not stopped him.
Across the room, he plastered himself to the wall, seeming to use its solidity to hold himself up. “Maybe,” he said, voice cracking with effort.
“Do you have a knife…” She paused, inclining her head so he’d supply his name.
“Chauvin, Your Majesty.”
Caroline let out a wicked giggle. “Why so formal all of the sudden, Chauvin?” When he didn’t answer, she continued. “It’s the blade for you. So go ahead and get it out of whatever pocket it’s stashed away in and slit your throat, so I don’t have to. Your participation in an assassination attempt against a queen is unforgivable. Your death will be a mercy compared to what I have in store for your cousin, so be grateful.”
Chauvin tried to scream, but she caught his voice before a sound burst from his mouth. His hands, under her compulsion, dug a knife from a pocket inside his coat, which he’d taken off and laid across the small table in the room.
Struggling to speak, Chauvin half spit and half mouthed the words, “I’ll take Hollis’s punishment. Whatever you planned to do to him, you can do to me.”
Caroline kicked her feet, which dangled over the side of the bed, back and forth how school children do. “But you don’t have enough life to pay for the two of you. Now be a good boy, sayThank you for your mercy, Queen Caroline, and slit your throat.”
Chauvin murmured, “Thank you for your mercy, Queen Car—” catching short as the deadly red line drew across his neck. Horror flashed once across his wide, glassy eyes before they went lifeless. Chauvin thudded to the floor.
As she stood, Caroline straightened her clothes, then stepped around the blood pooling, staining the porous grey stones. An excited chitter fluttered about in her stomach as she left in search of Hollis.
Caroline’s prey sat in the middle spot at a navy felt-covered game table in the center of the room and had an unlit cigar loosely clenched in his back teeth. Tossing a few gold coins on the table, Hollis asked the man dealing cards, “Can’t we raise the stakes?” The other players, eyeing the coins, shifted in their seats anxiously, like they wanted out, but were afraid to offend the royal.
Stepping behind him, keeping her footsteps soft, she traced her fingertips across his shoulder, then up his neck. Caroline threaded her fingers in his hair, knowing he would assume it was one of his many lovers or a sex worker who had found him. His overconfidence made things easy for her. Hollis didn’t flinch until she gripped a handful of hair tightly and yanked his head backward, so they were eye to eye as she stood over him. The cigar fell from his lips as his mouth dropped open.
“Gods,” he swore. A confused grimace turned into realization, and he said, “You lied.”
Caroline bopped him on the nose. “Exactly. You’re quite clever. Unfortunately for you, I am far cleverer. Oh, and thanks for warming my seat for me.”
Hollis, becoming wan, pushed back from the table, and held out the chair for Caroline, moving it forward as she sat.
“Go fetch me a glass of wine.” Caroline turned to the dumb struck players at the table, then reached out and scooped up the gold Hollis had deposited. “Don’t worry, we won’t be playing for this. I like to get my thrills in other ways.” Caroline acknowledged the dealer, patting the stack of silver which had been in front of Hollis and said, “Deal me in.”
When Hollis set the wine on the table, Caroline snatched it up and sniffed it. She gave it a swirl, inspecting it in the light, then shot a wink to Hollis before taking a taste. “Heel,” she said, and pointed to a spot on the ground beside her where a chair had been before he’d gone for the wine. Hollis stood where she pointed, then slowly lowered to his knees as rivulets of sweat dripped down his temples from his battle against the compulsion.
Leaning over to him, she said, “Don’t worry. I will not kill you like my father did yours.Yet. You and I are becoming quite good friends, don’t you think? We have so much fun left to have before I end you. Right now, I need you to learn your place.”
Hollis looked like he was clamping his jaw so hard his teeth would be crushed under the pressure, and everyone was watching them. “Oh, my guard dog is upset because someone tried to kill me tonight, which I believe is impossible. His distress is pointless.” Shrugging, Caroline picked up her cards, throwing out a few coins.
Caroline was terrible at cards, but she was having a delightful time. On her third glass of wine, and at least that much for the others at her table, she’d convinced them to tell her stories of Hollis. None of what they were sharing painted him in a positive light, but they had her doubled over laughing. “He didn’t?” Her voice was gleeful as she covered her eyes in a mocking gesture.
“That’s what Carla said. When he didn’t show up in her bed that night, she thought he’d found someone else, but when he stumbled through the kitchen on his way out the next morning, she realized how right she’d been. Her mother, Old Mean Marge, whose tits hang to here—” The woman gestured to her stomach, below her belly button. “—came out after him wrapped in a sheet, beaming.”
The woman, giggling behind her palm, shot a wary glance to Hollis who was still heeling at Caroline’s side and went on. “Marge gave him a swat on the tail and asked when she would see him next. She said he didn’t say a word and his face was as red as an apple.”
The server brought several plates of small bites to the table and passed them around. Caroline looked at Hollis. “Is that true?” she asked. He managed a glare at her, but she held out a piece of sausage wrapped in flakey bread, wiggling it in front of his face.
“Yes,” he hissed, which only made the giggles turn into outright laughter.
