Turik's gaze slid past Helga, past the blood pooling on the stones, and fixed on the trembling cluster of princesses. His grin returned—slow, deliberate, serpentine.
"You stand so proudly, Queen Helga. But pride is brittle when children are at stake."
Helga froze. Fear gripped her that she forgot to mask her expression.
Turik chuckled. He flicked two fingers. Instantly, armored hands shot forward, seizing Amielle and Mira. The princess consorts shrieked as they were dragged to the center of the chamber, their gowns tearing against the stone. Ceres lunged to follow, but a fist struck her across the mouth and sent her sprawling.
"No!" Reuben's voice cracked as he surged forward. Two knights pinned him, their grips iron.
Turik crouched between Reuben's two wives, studying them with the calm of a predator. Amielle struggled furiously, spitting curses through tears. Mira sobbed, eyes wide with terror, her body rigid in the soldier's grip.
