All Chapters of The Queen is Man: Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

"Think you can just walk in there and he won't notice? You're delusional, kid."Samuel’s voice was a low rasp in the damp mouth of the stone corridor. He didn't look up from the dagger he was honing. The rhythmic shirr-shirr of steel on whetstone set Noah’s teeth on edge.Noah adjusted the heavy silk of the royal blue gown. The fabric was thin, nearly translucent under the flickering torchlight, clinging to his thighs with every movement. The chest bindings underneath were pulled so tight they felt like iron bands, forcing his breath into shallow, frantic hitches."I don't have a choice, do I?" Noah’s voice cracked. He swallowed hard, trying to keep the pitch high, the 'Abigail' mask firmly in place. "You’ve made sure of that.""Damn right." Samuel finally looked up. His eyes were hard, flat discs of flint. "The Gala's in full swing. He’s looking for you. Go in there, use that pretty face, and get the State Seal. If you come back empty-handed, I’m done being patient. I’ll walk into th

"Turn around. You’re missing a hook."The heavy purple silk weighed on Noah’s shoulders like a suit of plate armor. He adjusted the high collar, the stiff fabric scraping against the fresh, yellow-purple bruises circling his throat. He didn't look at the mirror. He couldn't look at the "Abigail" staring back."I can do it myself," Noah snapped. He fumbled with the tiny silver fasteners at his nape. His fingers shook. Every breath was a shallow, guarded thing. The linen bindings beneath the dress were tighter today, crushing his ribs to ensure not a single masculine line broke the silhouette of the King’s Queen.Ethan stepped into the light. He didn't ask. He moved Noah’s hands aside, his touch cold and absolute. The King’s knuckles brushed the sensitive skin of Noah’s neck. Noah stiffened. He stood like a statue while Ethan worked the hooks with methodical precision."You’re tense," Ethan murmured. His voice was a low vibration against Noah’s back. "The Gala is a celebration, not a tr

"Hold still. You're going to bleed out on my rug if you keep squirming."Ethan’s voice was a low vibration, rougher than the smoke still hanging in the rafters. He shoved a silver basin of warm water onto the nightstand. The metal clattered against the wood. Noah tried to pull his arm back, but Ethan’s grip was a vice around his wrist. The King’s fingers were stained with the grit of the Great Hall, his knuckles scraped raw from the brawl."I can do it, Ethan. Seriously. Just give me the cloth." Noah’s voice shook. He was slumped against the headboard, the ruins of the purple silk dress hanging off one shoulder. The linen bindings underneath were damp with blood, a dark bloom spreading across the white fabric."Like hell you can." Ethan grabbed a pair of shears. He didn't look at Noah’s face. He focused on the shredded sleeve. The metal snip-snipped through the expensive silk, cutting away the ruined fabric until the wound was bare. The crossbow bolt had gouged a deep, ugly trench thr

"Get in. Move!"Ethan’s hand was a heavy weight on Noah’s shoulder, shoving him through the doorway of the royal bedchamber. The oak door slammed shut with a crack that sounded like a bone breaking. Ethan didn't even bother with the latch; he just leaned his full weight against the wood, his chest heaving, his face a mask of jagged shadows. The smell of the dungeons—salt, iron, and burnt hair—clung to his tunic."Ethan, wait. You’re scaring me." Noah stumbled back, his bare feet catching on the edge of a thick rug. The wound in his arm was a hot, rhythmic pulse, the bandage soaked through with a fresh, dark bloom."Scaring you?" Ethan’s voice was a low, vibrating growl. He pushed off the door and started toward Noah. He didn't look like a King anymore. He looked like a predator. He reached out, his fingers catching a stray tear on Noah’s cheek and wiping it away with a rough, calloused thumb. "Good. You should be. You’re a little liar, aren't you? Samuel thinks he can get in your head

"Open up. Just a small bite."The silver spoon tapped against Noah’s teeth. The sweet, cloying scent of honeyed pears drifted up, thick enough to choke on. Noah stared at the gold-flecked wallpaper. Outside, the rhythmic shuck-shuck of stiff bristles against stone echoed through the glass. The guards were out there. Scrubbing. Washing away the dark, iron-scented stains Samuel and the others had left behind."I'm not hungry, Ethan." Noah’s voice sounded like it belonged to a ghost. It was thin, frayed at the edges. His arm throbbed under the fresh bandages, a hot, heavy reminder of the courtyard."You need your strength. You’ve been shaking since the sun came up." Ethan sat on the edge of the silk-covered mattress, his massive frame dwarfing the bed. He didn't look like the executioner from an hour ago. He had changed into a soft, charcoal-colored tunic. He looked domestic. Kind. It was a lie. "Eat for me, Abigail."Noah’s jaw tightened. "Stop calling me that."Ethan’s hand froze. The