Chapter 42 · The Crown Wants Me

"Lucan, move your hand or I swear I'll cut it off."

His fingers dug into Nora's chest.

The royal execution mark burned through her shirt, five red lines crawling from her palm to her wrist. His hand hovered over her heart, each finger pressing through the fabric like a blade.

Lucan stared straight at her.

But the voice behind his eyes wasn't his.

"Nora," he rasped. "Don't fight me."

"That's not you talking."

His jaw locked. For half a second, his grip stopped.

Then his thumb slid beneath her collarbone.

"You always were difficult," the dead queen whispered through him.

Nora drove her knee into his stomach.

Lucan folded with a sharp grunt. His grip broke, and Nora hit the black stone on both knees. Pain shot up her legs. She clamped one hand over her chest and reached for the knife at her belt with the other.

"You want a vessel?" she snapped. "Find someone who volunteers."

Lucan wiped blood from his mouth. The red light inside his chest pulsed beneath his skin, bright enough to outline the old queen's crown over his ribs.

"You don't get to choose," the queen said.

Nora pushed herself up. "I already chose."