His Red Queen

Chapter Thirty - Maven

"She's going to be fine," the healer assures me for the hundredth time. She folds up the ruined, bloodied ballgown and hands it to me before leaving the room.

Mare is sleeping in our bed, her face calm, no sign of any pain. Her brown skin is a bit pale but that is to be expected after the incident. I stare at my wife, so small and quiet in that bed. Very different than her usual stubbornness and strength that even rivals my own.

The healer fixed her quickly. She let me put Mare's pajamas on her. She was sleeping the whole time. The healer put her to sleep before healing the wound. It was not fatal, more of a deep cut.

"She was lucky," the healer told me. Over and over. If she had pressed that sword any harder, she would have died almost instantly. If she had gone a milometer more to the left...I don't want to think about it.

Mare's blood is still on my hands. Under my nails. I place her dress on my nightstand. She looked so beautiful tonight. So happy. And then, all hell had to break loose. Of course.

One nice evening with my wife. That's all I want.

Warily, I glance back at her once and then go into the bathroom. I shower quickly, scrubbing her blood off my hands.

I am back in the bedroom a few minutes later. Mare is in the same exact spot that I left her in. So still that for a moment I fear she's dead. I lean down enough to hear her breathing but not enough to touch her.

The bed creaks as I sit down on the edge of the bed. I am about to lay down beside her but think better of it. I don't want to wake her up. With a final look over my shoulder, I leave the room. Barefoot, clad in my pajamas, I glare at the Sentinels stationed outside my door.

"You let one person in there who is not me or the healer," I drawl, "and I will personally roast each and every one of you alive."

Silence. Good.

"You all had better be in the same place when I come back." I point to the camera where the ceiling meets the wall. "I swear by my colors; if anything else happens to her, you will regret the day you were born."

I storm down the hall, down the staircases, and all the way through the palace to where my mother and Samson are locked up.

The guards let me in silently and I cross my arms in front of their cells. Mother is passed out, still. She looks like a rebel, not the former queen. I can't look at her too long. Samson is slumped against the corner of his cell, also asleep. They must have drugged him, too.

Keeping my eyes on them, I say to the guard beside me. "Silent stone manacles for both of them. Lock Mother—Elara—in her old rooms. Station an Arven guard in her room, and three outside. Do not hurt her."

He nods. "Of course, Majesty." He opens his hand and the metal bars warp into an entry way where two more guards walk into Mother's cell and pick her up. She stays asleep.

"As for Samson," I say, "drop him off at The Rift's palace." He looks at me, perplexed. "I have a note to send him with." I pull it from my pocket and shove it into his hands. "Do not read it."

"Yes, my king."

I am already halfway out of the room before he finishes his sentence. I silently curse myself the whole way back to my rooms. This plan better work.

If not, I'll set this very world on fire.