Chapter 75 What Do You Mean Another Revolution?
Lucien was already in front of her, his sword drawn while his large body covered in an instant, “Lady Montague. And your future princess. You will accord her with respect, Duke Valecourt.”
Now, last Maeve would have either tried to sneak and hide under the table or go to the bathroom, or probably just fake a fainting spell to stop them from fighting— but this time, she moved to the side, placing her hand on Lucien’s arm as she said, “It’s fine. If he wanted me dead, I’d already be. And you won’t win a fight with him anyway.”
“Isabella—”
“Lucien.” She turned to look at him, her face serious. “Go and meet Amir. We share a bond. If anything were to happen, he’d know instantly. I bet he’s been hovering around the door. Go.”
He didn’t seem like he wanted to leave her side, but finally, he did, and it was clear from the way he was storming out that this was not a decision he took kindly.
The second he was gone, Adrian was already in front of her, the pointy end of his sword at her throat— wow, all the men were really on roll— and said in that all so condescending voice of his, “A wedding? Why? Because his mother is such a great mentor for you?”
“Place the sword down. You won’t hurt—”
The sword moved before she could blink, slicing sharply at her forearm.
Maeve held back the urge to gasp, her hand instinctively going over the already bleeding gash as she tried to still the way her heart was racing. She wasn’t sure of her bluff about Amir sensing her emotions, but if it were true, the last thing she needed was them fighting.
It’d just destroy all of this carefully arranged paperwork.
“You look like you need a hug, Adrian, and I was going to give you one,” She said as calmly as possible. “But I’m getting the feeling that you’re actually quite mad at me.”
“Stop speaking to me like I am one of the foolish men you control. I am not.” He hissed. “We are not friends. We never were.”
“We had an adventure together. We—”
“It was a job for the Queen. As everything in my life is.” He cut in. His voice was sharp. Commanding. “And so is her son, the prince.”
“He is an adult. You can’t keep coddling him like a child. He knows what he wants.”
“I have seen the power you have over people. I know what you are capable of personally. Cassian does not know what you are.”
“And what am I, Adrian?” Maeve asked, her voice quiet though her gaze stayed steady as she held her still bleeding arm that was now trickling to her wrist. “Go on. Enlighten me.”
His eyes followed it then, and for a moment, she saw Adrian morph into someone else entirely. The entire bravado he had shown all along was gone as his face softened, his eyebrows furrowing in guilt and confusion.
And then in one step, he was in front of her, his hands grabbing her face as he said, “Let him go.”
“You do not love him.”
“I don’t.”
“Then why?” He sounded tired. His eyes searched hers. “You do not need the throne. At least, not like this. He is… he is not—”
“I know he shapeshifts. He told me already.” She cut in, her eyes steady on his. “He can’t control it. He shifts at will or when he feels overwhelmed. Not his fault, by the way, for you to list his flaws. If you wish to say he’s not learned, that’s fine, I’ll teach him. If—”
“So what then? The throne? Is that what you seek? You said—” His eyes hardened again and then he began to take steps back. “Did you lie when you claimed you lost your memories? Was this all your plan? To distract me enough to have the revolution hiding behind the scenes?”
“What? What are you talking about?”
Maeve's bloodied hand shot out, grabbing his wrist before he could retreat further. “Adrian. What revolution?”
His expression shuttered instantly as a moment of vulnerability disappeared, replaced by the cold mask she knew so well. “Nothing.”
“Do not lie to me.” She tightened her grip, ignoring the way her forearm screamed in protest. “Tell me what’s going on.”
Adrian had rode his horse for days on end to get here. To see her. When he had seen that she was alright, that she was not poisoned and she was well, that she still had time to do her scheming of a thing, the urge to fall into her arms and pass out from all the days exhaustion of no sleep but… but he could not seem to do that.
He pulled his arm from her wrist like it burned him, his hand returning to his sword as it was the only thing he knew for certain. “Certain information about particular revolutionary groups has suddenly come out into the open. The Royal Guard and the Queen have been hunting them down. Each village we have found has been razed to the ground. Eldoria— she is not leaving survivors.”
“Why?”
“What do you mean why?” He growled. “Whatever information she has, she is following it. Perhaps, it is what you want. Taking down all evidences of your involvement now that you have managed to sink your claws into—”
Something flew past him. It was inches away from hitting him square in the head, and as he looked back, he realized it was a pot of black ink scattered all over the floor.
“God, you are so irritating,” Maeve didn’t like the feelings welling in her chest. She felt like the world was spiraling, like she was seconds away from passing out. This wasn’t part of the story. This shouldn’t be happening. “Everyone, including children? And you cannot tell me why any of this is happening without putting your constantly conflicting feelings for me aside?”
“Isabella—”
“Get out.” She could imagine it for some reason. Taste it. The revolution. Of course it still existed. It was still there. Why? Why was it still active? Why would Eldoria do this? Was it the Reaping all again? Was this the cost of the changes she’s made? “Now.”
“You are shaking—”
Another thing flew over his head. “GET OUT!”
It was the first time Adrian was hearing her scream, and for a moment he froze, and in the next, he was bowing, his voice curt, “As you wish, Your Highness.”
And then he was gone.
The second she was alone, Lucien rushed in, his voice filled with panic. “Why… why are you bleeding—?”
“Amir.” She turned to look at him. “Call him in here. Now.”