Risa’s mind was ringing with confessions and plots. Worst of all, her head throbbed painfully from the pulse of magic in the air that was still trying to ensnare everything in its path.
General Van Houten glared at Javi with unadulterated hatred written in every wrinkle, every crease. “I was a respected military tactician once, and then I was demoted to protect you. The worst job I’ve ever had!”
“I think working for a despot might be worse, but who am I to say?” Javi snapped.
“I’m a war hero. A skilled strategist. A genius on the battlefield!”
“And you’re fired!” General Sur shouted. “Throw him in the dungeons!”
A group of soldiers swarmed the fallen general and dragged him away. His cries for justice and vengeance went unheeded.
Silence rang through the chapel. Every guest watched the dais with nary a change in their expression.
General Sur sighed. He stooped over to collect the abandonedpistol, which he wiped on his trousers. Risa’s heart pounded in her chest as she watched him level it at Javi and declare, “I guess if you want a job done right, you have to do it yourself.
“You have a choice. You marry my daughter and make her queen of Madros, and then I kill you. Or”—the general spun to point the barrel between Risa’s eyes—“I kill the girl while you watch, you marry my daughter and make her queen of Madros, andthenI kill you.”
It did not matter that Javi rolled his eyes, or that he cocked his hip and waved the orders away with a flick of his wrist as he said drolly, “It sounds like I die either way, which I don’t believe is very fair.”
Javi might have been smiling, but by now Risa could see through him. The corner of his lips trembled from the effort of sustaining a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. His nervous fingers began to twist the rings on his hand over and over.
General Sur smiled, too, baring too many of his pearl-white teeth. “You can save her.” He cocked the pistol. “Or you can kill her. Those are your only choices.”
Risa tried to shake her head at Javi, but El Gib tightened his grip and his blade bit deeper into her skin.
She tapped El Gib’s bulging forearm with a finger, because she didn’t think he would be thrilled at the prospect of being shot at.
“If the general shot me, wouldn’t that hurt you?” she rasped, hoping El Gib managed to hear her.
He slackened his hold enough to let her breathe, or because he seemed to notice the general aiming a little too close to him. “Whoa.” He moved the blade from her throat, angling it at the general. “Be careful where you point that thing.”
“I’m not trying to shoot you,” the general scoffed. “I’m trying to shoot the girl.” He raised the pistol, ignoring El Gib’s angry growl.
Javi’s brows knit together. His eyes softened as he met her gaze. “Oh, Risa.” He whispered her name like an apology. Like a goodbye. “You know I must.”
He turned to face the bride and reached for her hand.
No. She couldn’t let him do this. She couldn’t let him give up his life for hers when she’d been so selfish, when she’d been choosing her own life over his since that first day in the Bosque. She didn’t deserve it.Hedidn’t deserve it.
A sudden howl echoed against the stained glass windows. And a voice rose above the painful cry.
“I order you to stop this nonsense at once!”
Amina had somehow managed to wrangle out of Bella’s control, and it had been Bella’s cry that shattered the moment. Bella nursed a wound in her hand, courtesy of one of Amina’s daggers, its polished hilt sticking out of her palm. The princess stood at the foot of the dais, hood pulled back and face revealed. The livid red welt of her old scar glistened like a badge of honor.
General Sur’s face drained at the sight of her. As if he were witnessing a ghost returning to life.
“Amina,” the bride whispered, bouquet toppling out of her hands.
Amina took one step forward. The Sanguines dotting the perimeter moved toward her in unison, belatedly realizing that everything was spiraling out of control. El Gib and Carlos were frozen, glancing between the general’s pistol and Amina’s slow, stalking march. Amina raised her remaining dagger, leveling it at the bride.
“You may have murdered my family,” she said to the general.“Ensorcelled my people. Claimedmythrone. But I am your queen, and you will stop this charade at once or I will kill your daughter.”
The bride whimpered, face crumpling at the words.
No one stirred at her declaration. Not the castle guards, not the priest, and certainly not the general. The curse that ensnared everyone was too strong for them to fight. Even the gathered guests, only partly captured in the magical web, could do little more than rise halfway out of their seats, stare in confusion, and sit back down, faces turning stony.
“Guards,” Amina called out. “I am your queen. Follow—”