The Blacksmith Queen (The Scarred Earth Saga, #1) - G.A Aiken Page 0,2

has already taken half your father’s men. The rest are loyal to you, but if you hope to win against Cyrus and, more difficult still, Straton, who has been building his mercenary army for years, then you need more men. Men willing to die for you.”

“Soooo . . . you want me to kill her?”

“No! Dammit, Son! Think! To have a queen at your side, with the blessing of the Witches of Amhuinn. The same sect that put your ancestors on the throne four hundred years ago.”

Marius let out a long sigh. “You want me to rescue her from my brother.”

“It’s too late for that. Protectors have already been sent to her.”

“Protectors sent by you?”

“No. These are not friends of ours. But they’ll need to take her to the Witches of Amhuinn for the girl to be confirmed in person. We can find her there. Take her and then you marry her. Make her queen.”

“I don’t want to get married.”

“Your father was the only son of his father. You, my dearest, were not that lucky. But having a wife—a queen—does not mean you cannot have your own whores on the side. Your great-grandfather certainly did and your great-grandmother, the queen, always knew her place.”

“I don’t know—”

“Meet her. She’ll be retrieved and brought to you. I’ll arrange it all. Once we have her, you can decide if you want to keep her or slit her throat.”

Marius blew out a breath and stared at the ceiling. “All right. I’ll meet her. But she has to survive Straton first. I’m not ready to face him yet.”

“If she can’t manage to outmaneuver your half brother,” Maila said, stepping over dead family members, “it’s not like she’ll be a great loss.”

“You need to promise me something, though,” Marius said to his mother’s back.

She faced him. “And what’s that, my love?”

“That whoever this peasant is . . . you won’t kill her until I decide I have no use for her.”

“Why would I ever—”

“Mother.”

Maila smirked. “I promise. I’ll be good.” The pair stared at each other until Maila added, “At the very least I’ll try.”

“Thank you. I’ve always appreciated your guidance, but now that Father is gone, it’s time I make my own decisions.”

“Of course.”

“So please don’t force me to put you away in a nunnery until your sudden and tragic death not too far in the future.”

“You’d do that to your own mother?” Maila asked her only remaining son.

Marius stepped close to his mother and gently placed his blood-covered palm against her cheek. “Before you could pray to your chosen gods to save you.”

Maila smiled. “You are so very much my son.”

They left the chamber, Marius taking his mother back to safety. I took my chance then and crawled through the hidden door under the enormous bed that the Old King had kept secret from all but me.

Once I was on the other side, I slowly closed the door behind me so no one heard my escape. Once I could stand up, I rushed down the narrow, hidden hallway, praying the steel door at the end was not blocked by some burly soldier who’d wonder what I was “up to.”

My escape took me several long minutes but once I reached the steel door, I opened it just enough to see if there was anyone in my way. This door led into the forests on the west side of the castle. I searched the trees with my gaze but saw nothing. I eased out and took my time closing the door behind me, afraid to make even the slightest sound. Once I heard the final click, I let out a breath and—

“Leaving us so soon, Keeper?”

I shut my eyes in despair, barely holding back tears as I faced Lady Maila.

“Now, now, don’t cry. I’m not here to kill you. I’m here to offer protection from my son.” She came from around the tree where she’d been waiting and took my arm. “Things here are about to drastically change and I need my own historian. You can be the Keeper of My Word. Won’t that be nice?”

What could I say? No? Not to Lady Maila. Not only because of her son but because to challenge Maila was to sign one’s own death warrant. And I was not ready to die.

So, instead, I replied, “That would be lovely, my lady.”

“Excellent.” Together, we headed back to the castle. “And you can now call me Dowager Queen. It’s quite fitting, don’t you think?”

“Yes, my lady.”

“And just wait until you meet