Of Heirs and Havoc ✔️ | Of Crimes and Crowns Book 2

sixteen: of executions and emotion

"If you do not wish only to be my husband—if you would ask more of me... then please, do not promise me that you will not leave and then proceed to do exactly that!" Natasha countered. "Do not make me stay up at all hours of the night, wondering if my husband despises me!"

"I love you!" He clutched her hands tightly, even when she tried to recoil. "It was shame, not hatred, that kept me apart from you. Shame that I could not even protect my daughter—my family. Shame that I now see, has no place in my life. I am not really the head of this family, not really. Not when I will have no sons to carry on my name—not when I have no power at all, not equal to yours."

"Fine." Tasha sucked in a ragged breath, her thumb rubbing over his knuckles in the gentlest of grazes. "I will make you king. Equal to me, a crown to match mine, a throne beside me—I will give you a coronation. Ours will be a marriage of true equals. And would that be enough for you? Or would you keep demanding of me, demanding things I could not give?"

"I don't know," Connor whispered, his voice breaking. "All I know is this—all my life I have been told that I was not enough, next to my brother. That I would forever be in his shadow. And all I want now is to protect you, to protect Grace, to keep safe what is mine. To be enough for you, for her. For any children we would have in the future."

"You are enough for me," she murmured, skirts splaying out on the divan as she leaned forward, her head resting on his shoulder. "You have always been enough for me. But if this is what you need to prove it—I would give that to you. I would give anything, for you to realize that you are far more than enough."

"I am sorry to have caused you so much pain this past week."

She sniffed. "I forgive you. I wish you had felt you could have turned to me. I wish—I'm sorry I didn't tell you of my plan beforehand. I was being petty and spiteful about your absence, and... that was unnecessary. I ought to have informed you."

"It's been forgiven, wife," he said, and saw the corners of her mouth upturn.

Connor leaned down and kissed her, quickly, before they released one another. The guards opened the doors to allow the royal physician into the room.

• • •

He watched with apprehension as Natasha carefully rested her weight on her injured foot, and Connor rushed forwards to assist her. She swore when she fell, the words sounding most unladylike coming from the queen of Arlea. He told her as much, and she laughed despite her pain. They cautiously moved to the four-poster bed, the layer of blankets dipping as they sat on the foot of the bed. 

"Thank you for catching me," she said coyly, before her tone turned serious. "Do you think I should leave Huntington in the dungeons and limp down to interrogate him, or summon him here?"

"Summon him to the throne room once more," Connor suggested, his hand still gripping her waist. "Still in chains, accompanied by two guards."

"An adequate proposal," Natasha ceded, her voice a lazy drawl, as languid as her hand that trailed over his chest. "And it does have its merits, but how would I get to the throne room, being injured and all?"

"I suppose, considering it was my idea, I could carry you there," Connor mused, feigning reluctance.

"Well, if you insist, then let us depart, shall we?" Just as he was about to pull her into his embrace, she stopped him, a sudden, startled look coming into her eyes; it was the look of someone who had only just remembered something devastating.

"What is it?" He asked, pulling away while keeping his fingers splayed on the small of her back. Her skin was warm through the violet satin of her gown; he could see her pulse race at the hollow of her throat.

"I... I only recalled another plan I had forgotten to inform you of. I forged a letter under the name of Lady Huntington whilst she was away from her manor house, in an attempt to discover who the third party was in the Seralian plot to assassinate Grace. They have yet to write back, but I thought it would be best to be rid of any secrets between us. That this time, we go into this completely honest with one another."

"Thank you for telling me," Connor said, then swung her into his arms.

Her fingers twined together at the nape of his neck; there was something different about her scent something heady, and intoxicating. Something flowery, soft—lilacs, he realized. They made their way to the throne room slowly, Connor setting Natasha down on the throne. He mock-bowed before her with a grin, kneeling. "My queen."

She laughed, a sound he had missed more than he knew was possible. It echoed in his chest, making him feel both strangely hollow and full at once. Natasha extended a hand, pulling him to his feet. "My king."

The guards brought Huntington into the throne room in chains as planned. Connor spoke first this time, his voice level, "Do you have any intelligence you could share with us in the hopes of forcing us to commute your sentence?"

"I will go to death, and execution willingly," Abel replied stiffly. Connor noted with dark satisfaction that both his eyes were blackened, and a gash ran from his brow to his jaw. His nose was swollen. His expression was defiant.

"Then it is settled. For your betrayal of crown, realm, and your queen, I sentence you to death, Lord Abel Huntington," Natasha spoke firmly. "You shall be drawn and quartered."

He, at least, for all the vile schemes and awful plots he had connived in life, faced death without fear. The final expression on Abel Huntington's face was one of determination as the guards dragged him out into the courtyard.

For some reason, it filled Connor with the utmost dread.

Check out the foreword to read the epigraph! It's been up for a while but I don't know if any of you saw it 😊❤️❤️💜