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publish date:
2026-03-19 02:36:19
Latest chapter
The Queen is Man 43
"He’s still breathing. Fix it."Lucas Reed’s voice cut through the ringing in my ears. I stayed low in the tall grass. The damp earth smelled of rot and cold iron.Twenty feet away, Jonathan Hayes was pinned against a jagged rock. His shield was gone. His armor was a shredded mess of leather and his own blood. Six men circled him like starving dogs."Where did they go, General?" Lucas stepped into the torchlight. He wiped a spray of red from his cheek. "The King. The bitch. Tell me, and I’ll make the next one quick."Jonathan didn't answer. He couldn't. His jaw was hanging by a thread of skin. He spat a tooth into the dirt. He tried to raise his sword, but his arm snapped back down. Dead weight."I don't have all night," Lucas snarled. He grabbed a spear from a nearby guard."Noah..."The whisper was so quiet I almost missed it. Jonathan’s head rolled back against the stone. He wasn't looking at Lucas. He was looking at the shadows where I was hiding."What was that?" Lucas leaned in.
The Queen is Man 42
"You're late."Noah’s sword arm jerked. He stepped in front of the blind King, the heavy leather of Ethan’s old armor creaking. The tunnel was a throat of wet stone and black shadows. In the center of the path stood a figure. A silhouette.Jonathan Hayes.The General didn't have his helmet. His hair was matted with soot. A deep gash across his brow wept red down the left side of his face. He held his shield—the one embossed with the Silver Wolf—but it was dented, the metal scarred by axe-blows."Move, Jonathan," Noah rasped. His real voice, the low one, echoed off the damp walls. "The Southern Prince is on the beach. He's coming for me. If you want to live, get out of the way.""I’m not here for the Prince." Jonathan stepped forward. The light from his guttering torch hit Ethan’s face. The General stopped. His shield lowered. "What happened to his eyes?""Flash-powder." Noah didn't lower his blade. "Lucas Reed. Your Purists. They did this.""They aren't my Purists." Jonathan’s voice w
The Queen is Man 41
"Stop. Please."Noah’s voice didn't crack. It dropped. The high, airy lilt of Abigail—the voice that had been a silken cage for months—hit the damp floor of the tunnel and shattered. He spoke from his chest. Deep. Rough. Masculine.Ethan’s hand, currently clamped onto Noah’s wrist like a dying man to a mast, jerked. The King stumbled. His sightless eyes stared at the dark stone two inches from his nose."What is that?" Ethan’s whisper was a jagged blade. "Where is she? Where—""There is no she, Ethan."Noah stood in the blackness. He didn't move. He didn't breathe. He let the silence sit between them, heavy and wet with the smell of mold and old fear. He reached up. His fingers found the heavy gold wig, matted with soot and Ethan’s own blood. He ripped it off.The weight left his head. He dropped it. It hit the puddle at their feet with a dull, pathetic splash."What did you do?" Ethan lunged forward. He didn't have his sight, but he had his rage. He fumbled, his hands hitting Noah’s
The Queen is Man 40
"Get down!"Ethan’s voice didn't just command; it cracked. He lunged. His weight slammed into Noah, a wall of muscle and hot leather. They hit the stone floor together. Hard.The air didn't just vibrate. It vanished.BOOM.A wall of white fire swallowed the Great Hall. It wasn't wood burning. It was chemical. Sharp. High-pitched. A flash-powder trap.Noah’s ears rang—a long, agonizing whistle. He gasped, sucking in a lungful of metallic smoke. He tried to push up, but Ethan’s body remained heavy on top of him. The King was twitching."Ethan?" Noah’s voice sounded like it was underwater. He shoved at Ethan’s shoulder.Ethan rolled off. He didn't catch himself. His hands went straight to his face. He let out a sound—a low, animal whimper that made the hair on Noah’s neck stand up."Abigail?" Ethan’s hands were shaking. He clawed at his eyes, then jerked his fingers away as if his own skin were red-hot iron. "Abigail, where—I can't see you.""I'm here." Noah grabbed Ethan’s wrists. He ha
The Queen is Man 39
"Strip. Now."Noah’s fingers fumbled with the silk ties of the heavy Northern gown. The fabric was a lie he’d worn for months, a weight that had nearly drowned him. Behind him, the oak doors of the Silk Wing groaned under the rhythmic thud-thud-thud of a battering ram. Outside, the roar of the "Purists" swallowed the wind. Lucas Reed was leading them, screaming about demons and blood."I can't—the knots are too tight." Noah’s voice shook. He jerked at a gold lace, and it snapped."Use the knife." Ethan shoved a bone-handled dagger into Noah’s hand. He didn't look at the doors. He didn't look at the fire catching on the velvet drapes. He looked at Noah. "Tear it off. All of it."Noah sliced through the emerald silk. The gown slumped to the floor, a dead skin. He stood there in the freezing air of the bedchamber, shivering in nothing but a thin cotton shift. The silver collar around his neck felt heavier now. Constant. Cold."Put these on." Ethan kicked a bundle of dark leather and iron
The Queen is Man 38
"You have to leave tonight."Jonathan Hayes didn't look like a General. He looked like a man waiting for his own execution. He stood in the center of the Royal Suite, the silver breastplate of his office reflecting the flickering orange light of the dying fire. He didn't look at the broken glass on the rug. He didn't look at the rumpled furs on the bed."The King ordered you to arrest the High Priest," Noah said. He stayed by the window, his fingers curled around the cold stone of the frame. "Why are you here, Jonathan? Why aren't you at the Temple?""I can't do it." Jonathan finally looked up. His eyes were bloodshot. A single muscle in his jaw jumped. "I've served the crown for twenty years. I've bled for Ethan. I’ve killed for him. But I won't go to war with the gods. Not for—""For a demon?" Noah’s voice was a jagged rasp. He stepped into the light, the silver collar around his neck catching the glow. "Is that what you were going to say?""I don't know what you are." Jonathan walk
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