Damon's fist tightened on Ingrid's neck in seething rage. But his actions did little to deter the smug look on the Queen's face. This was it. She loved it. The look of frustration and confusion on Damon's face. He claimed he was so powerful, but right under his nose, there had been an escape.
"She shouldn't have gone too far," he snarled, finally letting go of Ingrid, flinging her to one side. "She is a frightened girl with no allies, no supplies, no knowledge of the land. She will be found."
Ingrid's lips twitched. He actually thought Nyssa was alone. If only he knew.
The Council of Lords gathered below the dais, exchanged uneasy glances. None dared speak. The air in the grounds was thick and heavy with the aftermath of public humiliation.
Damon could still hear the whispers from the people, still see the disbelief in their eyes when the cloth had been lifted and Ingrid's face revealed.
His own wife! The first Queen. People couldn't fathom it. What was the Queen doing in the place of the prisoner girl?
Standing where a condemned girl was meant to kneel. And die.
Damon turned sharply to his guards.
"Send riders," he barked. "The fastest we have, hounds too. She won't outrun horses. Her legs must be numb anyway."
"Yes, Your Majesty," the captain of the guard said quickly, bowing. He turned on his heel and rushed out.
Damon then walked out of the grounds not caring about the questions being directed at him.
"What happened, Your Majesty?"
Every step he took towards the throne room fed the storm inside him. Ingrid's defiance replayed itself again and again, her calm voice, her steady gaze, the way she had looked at him not with fear, but with disappointment and a triumphant glint.
His other wife, Euphemia, now stood trying to calm the hungry blood of the people, who demanded answers.
"It's okay. His Majesty will be with us shortly."
Sibyl, on the other hand, kept staring at the place Ingrid had stood. For her to pull up a stunt like this, she was smarter than what they all thought.
But the embarrassment.
That had been the worst of it. It was a great shame. It meant the Palace's guards were incompetent…as well as the Emperor.
Damon stopped abruptly after making few steps into the Throne Room and then turned toward the guards stationed near the entrance. "Bring her to me."
The guards stiffened. "Your Majesty… Queen Ingrid has been taken to her chambers under guard, as per–"
"Now!" Damon growled. "Before I decide someone else should pay for her insolence."
They did not hesitate again.
They hurriedly marched to her chambers and banged her door open, not caring to knock. At this moment, the Queen had committed a heinous crime.
But, of course, they bowed, to show respect.
Ingrid sat on her bed, with her maid cleaning the faint marks of Damon's hand imprinted on her neck, that stung a bit.
When the doors burst open, she did not flinch. But Lena trembled, nearly tripping on her feet.
"So," she said quietly, without lifting her eyes. "You came."
But before the guards could say anything, a sharp echo of footsteps were heard approaching and the Emperor stomped in.
How had he caught up to them so fast?!
The guards quickly turned, and then bowed to him.
Damon dismissed the guards and Lena with a sharp wave. The doors shut behind him, sealing them alone.
He stared at her calm, unfazed face and his anger doubled. "Do you have any idea what you've done?"
Ingrid met his fury with composed stillness. "I saved a life."
"You undermined the crown," he snapped. "You made a spectacle of me before the entire people."
She tilted her head slightly. "If your authority crumbles because of one spared girl, then perhaps it was never as strong as you believed."
His hand twitched.
"You helped her escape," he lowly growled. "Did you think I wouldn't realize?"
"I hoped you would," Ingrid replied. "I hoped it would force you to look at yourself."
He laughed; a short, cruel sound. "You always did believe you could act all defiant and always be spared now, didn't you?"
"Not once did I think that. I don't really care if you punish me," she said softly.
His eyes dimmed and then, he tepped closer. "I won't ask twice. Where is she?"
Ingrid held his gaze. "Far away from you."
"Tell me," he demanded.
"No." Ingrid held her ground.
She wouldn't budge and Damon knew he wouldn't get any information from her. She was just so eager to do anything to annoy and irk him.
Something dangerous flickered in Damon's eyes. Rage, yes, but beneath it something rawer, more unhinged. His breathing slowed and his expression turned eerily calm.
"You forget," he said, voice low, "who holds power here."
Ingrid smiled faintly. "Power is not the same as righteousness, and that, Dear Damon, is what you lack."
That was when it happened. So fast that later, people would argue whether it had truly happened or only imagined it.
Damon reached out with his hand closed around Ingrid's neck.
A sharp gasp escaped her lips as her back struck the wall. Her hands flew up instinctively, with her fingers clutching at his wrist. Damon's grip tightened, his jaw clenched, eyes burning with something feral.
"I ask again," he hissed. "Where. Is. Nyssa?!"
Ingrid struggled for breath, her vision blurring. Still, she did not scream.
Her gaze softened and then she smiled.
"I thought you said you would only ask once. And don't bother yourself to ask me one more time."
"You chose...a prisoner girl over me! Your husband, huh?!"
Her eyes dimmed, "I rather eat garbage, than acknowledge you as my husband," she rasped.
Something inside Damon snapped and with a violent twist, he wrenched his hands sideways on her neck. Ingrid's eyes widened in panic.
And there was a sickening crack. Ingrid's body went limp.
Damon released her, and she collapsed to the floor, her body still and unmoving.
For just a brief second, there was silence.
And then Damon walked out, leaving the doors open.
Guards and servants froze in the doorway, when they walked in to know why it was open. Horror painted their faces as they took in the scene: the Queen lying motionless on the floor, her neck twisted unnaturally, her eyes half-open and dim.
Someone screamed. The Queen had been murdered!
Damon straightened slowly, at a distance, breathing hard, his expression unreadable.
His eyes then fell on some of the servants who stared at him in shock, fear and pain.
"She committed treason," he said coldly. "Let this be a lesson."
No one moved. None dared speak.
The empire had just watched its Queen die at the hands of its Emperor.
The word was sure to spread faster than the riders.
By the time Damon returned to the throne room, the palace buzzed with terror-stricken whispers. Servants who loved her, wept behind tapestries. His guards and Councilmen avoided one another's eyes. Everywhere felt cold.
Damon sat heavily on his throne.
"Find her," he said again, to his guards he had called. His voice was hollow now, stripped of its earlier fire. "Bring me the girl alive."
Outside the palace, horns sounded as riders and guards thundered through the gates, on the powerful mission.
Damon's wives were beyond shocked and none dared to even meet him at the moment. Because, though he had killed her, everyone knew he loved her greatly.
Then, Damon ordered for the guards at the Dungeon cell to be brought. The guards knew it was over for them and they didn't dare beg for mercy when Damon reached for a sword and struck each of them to their deaths.
But one thing was on everyone's mind. If the Emperor could kill his wife, the Queen, who he loved so much, then no one could be spared. This brought more terror and fear in the lands.