Nothing when she was in chains.
Nothing when she was stabbed.
Part of Nora wished to run until she reached Matteo’s army. But she wasn’t done with the Kaulish court yet. She needed someone with the authority to call back their navy. Someone from the royal family.
“Is the king in there with you?”
“Yes!” she cried.
“And Queen Maria and Prince Alexandre?”
The duchess’s hand was back through the hole as she reached for Nora’s. “Yes! Yes! They are here. Let me out.”
“Move your hand; I’ll try to cut out the doorknob.”
The duchess pulled her hand back and Nora raised her cleaver once again. She carefully expanded the hole around the handle. The opening was now as big as her head, but still, the doorknob didn’t budge. She was using a meat cutter on wood. Of course it wasn’t working well. Nora huffed in frustration. If she weren’t so weak, she could easily have taken out these doors. She breathed in and out.
A loud voice called, “Kill the king!”
The duchess and the others who crowded by the door turned to watch the action. Nora’s eyes widened as she watched the courtiers become a mob.
“It’s his fault!”
“He kidnapped a witch!” an older woman shrieked.
“He angered the Sanians.”
“Declared war on the Urkans.”
“He won’t let me go home!”
“Hang him!” a man yelled.
“Yes!”
Nora watched as the courtiers, in their fine silks, ripped apart the tennis net and converged on King Pierre.
“I am the king!”
But that only incited the crowd further. They bound his hands with expensive ribbons. Then they tied the bottom of the net around his neck and strung the rest over the second-floor balcony. Courtiers of all ages pulled on the ropes of the tennis net and King Pierre was raised off the ground. His legs kicked wildly as his face went from white to red to purple. Then his movement slowed, his body stiffened, and then everything stopped.
The King of Kaul was dead.
Cheers filled the room and Nora felt no remorse. If the crowd hadn’t killed King Pierre, she would have.
“Kill the prince!” a marquess yelled.
“No!” Nora said.
But the crowd didn’t listen.
“End the line of kings!”
“Retribution!”
Nora watched as Alexandre was pushed to the front of the crowd. His wig was gone, his brown hair tousled, his makeup smeared, and the left side of his mouth swollen. His arms and feet were tied together with golden sashes. He didn’t even try to fight, only watched in resignation as they cut down his father’s body and prepared to use the same net to string him up.
She couldn’t let him die. Not simply because they’d once been dear friends and he had not revealed her identity, but because she needed Kaul to have some sort of leader. Someone with the authority to stop the naval assault on Urka. Hacking at the wood with the cleaver, she sent wooden chips flying through the air. But she wasn’t going fast enough. Alexandre’s feet were now off the ground and the courtiers were tying the net to the ironwork on the side of the room. He didn’t kick and struggle like his father did, but his eyes were wide in terror.