Rough by Sara Fields (ereader iphone txt) 📕

“I will,” I smirked, and his brown eyes flashed.

Fucking bastard. He had no clue what I was about to do.

“Good,” he declared before his hand disappeared from mine. His fingers felt like a brand on my wrist and I took a fraction of a second to gather myself before I walked off. Magnar needed to know what I knew. I moved closer to him, watching his wineglass and seeing that he had drunk a good deal of it. The servants came and took the empty wooden crate then and I reached for the pitcher of wine once more.

I topped off my alpha’s glass, making a show of the pour and I leaned down so that my lips were close enough that he could hear me whisper a single word.

“Neegan.”

He stiffened and he pushed back against the table, standing up once more.

He knew what needed to be done now.

We both did.

He cleared his throat and looked on expectantly, waiting for the crowd’s roar to die down to a manageable level so that he could speak.

“This union came together today because of the people here seated here with me,” he started, and a hush fell over the room.

“Beside me is a group of men that have advised and guided me into this alliance, but there is one man in particular that helped to secure Kingsworth’s new position in this tumultuous time,” he continued.

I looked out into the audience, seeing a multitude of curious faces.

“I want you all to give a round of applause for the hand of the king. Neegan has been a loyal advisor for me for a great number of years and I want him to receive the recognition that he so richly deserves,” he added, and I almost choked.

Those in the Great Hall started to cheer, just like their king had asked for. Magnar held up his hand and beckoned for Neegan to join him. The crowd quieted down once more as they waited for what would come next.

“I have a gift for you as well, my friend,” Magnar exclaimed and he untied the leather satchel from his belt. Carefully, he opened the bag and reached inside to grasp the golden goblet. I noticed that his fingers had carefully avoided the red jewel.

I smiled politely.

Neegan strode over to join him. He didn’t limp this time.

Magnar handed the jewel-encrusted cup to him and Neegan took it. He grasped the stem and admired it for several long moments. Magnar took his own silver goblet into his fingers and lifted it to his lips. He took several long swallows before he beckoned me over to him. I moved closer so that I stood by his side.

“It would bring me great honor to raise a glass of wine with you, my friend,” he declared and Neegan’s grin widened. I already had the pitcher of wine in my hands and smiled obediently, topping off Magnar’s chalice first. He took it back and I took Neegan’s gifted goblet into my fingers. I poured the wine as I clutched at the top, using my forefinger to push down on the round red jewel until I felt it click.

It was time.

I handed the goblet back to Neegan. He took it without even glancing in my direction.

I stepped backwards and placed the pitcher back on a small table. My heart was pounding in my chest. I’d found the Acolyte.

And now he was going to die.

I watched almost in morbid fascination as Magnar continued his toast, but I was no longer listening. They both lifted their glasses, clinking them together so that several drops of wine splashed down onto the floor. Then they each took a big gulp.

They drained their glasses and slammed them back down onto the table with a resounding bang.

Those watching screamed with their excitement. Magnar sat down and Neegan followed suit and I almost stopped breathing. I didn’t take my eyes off of the hand of the king.

At first, he appeared as if everything was perfectly normal. He surveyed the servants bringing in the first platters of food. I only watched him.

I wanted to go to him. I wanted to lean down and whisper in his ear that it was me.

He coughed and at once, all of the color drained from his face. His fingers clutched at the table as if he could find purchase along the smooth wooden surface, but he found none. Abruptly, his breathing quickened, and he started to cower forward. He panted so hard that I questioned if he even was drawing any air into his lungs at all.

He started coughing harder and that’s when I saw that he was choking on his own bile. His spit frothed around his lips as his entire body shook, convulsing in one hard seizure after the next. His spittle ran down his chin, tinged red with blood as it dripped down onto the table beneath him.

After several more moments of prolonged agony, Neegan finally slumped forward and slammed his forehead into the table. The sound of flesh slapping against wood echoed with a sickening reverberation throughout the room. For a long moment, no one said anything at all.

Then the entire room erupted into chaos. Magnar roared so loudly that everyone cowered beside him. The concerned audience quieted in a flash. Magnar raised his left arm and pointed to Neegan’s still form.

“I have something to tell you, my loyal people. I want you to know what happens to those that betray me,” he said darkly, and my eyes slid from him to Neegan and then to King Erik who was grinning with fairly obvious amusement.

Interesting.

“You see, I want you all to remember what happens to traitors. When I sense that those closest to me are working against me, I take matters into my own hands,” he continued.

No one said a word. It was as if they were waiting for his permission to simply breathe.

“Neegan is dead because he conspired against me. You see, he planned to poison