Then Herod shrugged and turned on his heel, strolling off. As he passed Alaric, he stopped briefly, offering him a casual pat on the shoulder. "Solving problems is so easy," he said breezily. "You just have to be willing to get your hands a little dirty."
Alaric's grin widened, eyes twinkling with admiration as he watched the king walk away. "Magnificent," he muttered under his breath.
But not everyone was impressed.
Ava stood rooted to the spot, one hand wrapped tightly around her neck as if trying to hold in her soul. Her breath came in shallow gasps. Her eyes, wide with disbelief, brimmed with tears that refused to fall.
She had suspected Herod was dark, yes. A little controlling, of course. But this? This was madness. She had just watched a man toss his queen off a balcony and blamed gravity.
She turned to look at the guards, at the terrified expressions on their faces, at the servants who had frozen mid-gasp.
What had she gotten herself into?
