Such thoughts made it easier to do what I had to do, but I continued walking forward. My heart ached just to think of what was about to happen.
Endrick sat in close conference with Sir Henry, his chief enforcer, confidante, and the man who had pretended to be my father for all of my sixteen years. Even now, he didn't know that I knew the truth, nor could I tell him until this was over.
If I was lucky, that would be within the next few minutes.
The Olden Blade was in its usual spot, tucked in a garter around my right thigh. But I'd deliberately worn a skirt with only a single sash around the waist today, so it wouldn't be hard to get to the weapon when I needed it. My pulse was racing and my body was much too tense. I needed to slow down, to breathe. I needed to keep thinking.
"Kestra, my daughter, you are late." Sir Henry never missed an opportunity to scold me, though I figured most of his disapproval would come after I killed Lord Endrick.
I gave the appropriate bow to the throne, subtly checking with my hand that the Olden Blade's handle was where I expected it, and it was. Good.
"Forgive my delay." My tone was deliberately obstinate. Foolishly provocative. "I'd rather not have come at all."
"Kestra!"
Lord Endrick held up his hand for silence, then gestured for me to rise, which I did.
"You've shown an unusual streak of defiance since returning from the Lava Fields," he said.
I tilted my head. "You must know that defiance is not unusual for me. Wasn't that the reason I was sent to the Lava Fields in the first place?"
"In hopes it would tame you, not encourage you," Sir Henry said. "We--"
He stopped mid-sentence and immediately dipped his head, feeling the burn from Endrick's scathing glare, a reminder that the king did not appreciate being interrupted. I rather enjoyed that. Never in my life had I seen Sir Henry shrink to anyone.
Then Lord Endrick continued. "Some defiance can be tolerated in the young. It's natural to push against one's elders. But it ends here, Miss Dallisor. Before your disappearance several days ago, a wedding was planned for you. Sir Basil has expressed his willingness to continue with the wedding. I only need your promise that, when you stand before the people, you will accept him."
I straightened my spine, hoping it would give me courage. "I will not."
Lord Endrick thrust out his hand, and with it came a force that hit me squarely in the chest, knocking the breath from my lungs and sending me sprawling backwards. That had hurt far more than I'd expected, but it had to happen. I needed to draw Lord Endrick nearer to me, away from Sir Henry. And I needed to be in a position to quietly reach beneath my skirts.
"Get up, girl!" Sir Henry called to me. I wasn't sure if his order was meant to demand I show Endrick more respect, or to warn of what Endrick would do next if I didn't get up.
Either way, I couldn't obey him, not yet. "If I get up, he'll do that again!"
Endrick's tone darkened. "And if you don't, things will get worse until you agree to the marriage."
"As far as I can tell, marriage itself is far worse than anything you can do to me." Which may have sounded flippant, except in this case, it was true. Endrick had already forced Basil to agree to kill me on our wedding night, something Basil himself had confirmed in our private conversations over the past few days.
But Lord Endrick didn't take kindly to my words. He stood, threw his cloak off his shoulders, and marched down the stairs from the Scarlet Throne. "On your knees, girl."
By then, I'd already worked the Olden Blade free of the garter. It was now in my hand, with part of the skirt wrapped around the blade to hide it. I rolled to my knees, facing away from him.
This was it, the moment I would kill him. The timing had to be perfect. He could not see it, could not suspect, until the blade was piercing his gut.
Lord Endrick held out his right hand and a servant ran forward with a grip glove, fastening it to the king's palm. The grip glove would intensify anything that Endrick's magic could already do. I'd experienced a lesser version of his punishments before, and it was awful.
Sir Henry had remained in his seat, which he rarely did. He was ordinarily the punisher, and if not, he usually relished the pleasure of being up close when Endrick did the job instead. But maybe somewhere, deep in his miserable black heart, he had tender feelings for me.
Either that, or he didn't want to bother himself with walking down the steps, only to climb them a minute or two later. That was probably it.
I lowered my head, and redoubled my grip on the Olden Blade. Endrick's footsteps were behind me and coming closer. It felt like he was deliberately walking slowly, drawing out the torture. Maybe he was.
Finally, I sensed his presence behind me, like a corporeal shadow, like he was death itself. He raised his hand to part my hair, so that he could get a solid grip on my neck, but as he did, I leapt to my feet, swinging around with the blade.