A Usurper's Cause (Book #4)

Chapter Sixty-One

A few days later, Haven overheard whispers about Maximus' recovery. He'd frightened Dr. Wilson with a strange fever, but it seemed to be gone now. Maximus would be able to leave the infirmary soon.

Haven peered into the infirmary where Maximus currently slept. He would look so innocent if she didn't know he'd fooled his brother into poisoning himself to death over the course of five days. She heard footsteps approaching and she turned away.

"Ah, it's you," Victor greeted, his lip curling slightly.

"Please try to contain your excitement."

He stopped in front of her, sighing. "I will do my best."

Haven nodded toward the room. "So, Majesty, what's the verdict?"

"What do you mean? Was it not his knight who was trying to cause trouble?"

"Do you honestly believe it was only the knight?" Haven feigned a pout, though. "I know it might be hard for you to accept that. You got along well with Max, didn't you?"

"Your lack of respect is infuriating."

"Why? Because I refuse to bow to you or him?" She took a step closer to him, eyeing him up and down. "You are not my king. I'm only here because of her."

Victor sighed again, much more deeply this time—and dramatically, too. "It relieves me to hear you say that. For a while, I worried you had set your gaze upon my brother."

Haven averted her eyes.

"What a terrible fate that would have been," he added. Then he leaned in and whispered, "I taught him never to settle for less."

Haven grabbed her dagger and pushed Victor up against the wall. She held the dull side of the blade up to his throat.

"You are everything I can't stand," she hissed.

Victor laughed—something more gravelly than joyful—and raised his brows. "That feeling is mutual. Maximus has told me plenty about you. The little street rat who wandered into the wrong camp. You were abandoned as a child by your own mother. That explains why you are the way you are."

"Maybe it does." Haven stepped back, sheathing her dagger. She then shrugged. "But if that's my reason, what the hell is yours? Spoiled brat who's always had anything he could ever want and spits on people he decides he doesn't care for." She heard a soft grunt and looked into the infirmary again.

Maximus sat up and spotted her standing there. She faced Victor again who—much to her dismay—smiled at her. Like any smile of his, there wasn't any warmth in his eyes. He always looked like a portrait—lifeless and dull from standing still for too long with a forced expression.

"Should you be right about him, then get rid of him," he said. "And I will let you keep that pretty head of yours."

Haven scowled when he turned away and walked off. She then walked inside and up to Maximus' bedside.

She hummed. "You look awful. Are you not getting any sleep?"

Maximus clenched his jaw. "What do you want, Haven?"

"Easy there. We got along well during my brief stay in Arendice." Haven touched his bandages and furrowed her brows when he grabbed her wrist.

"I'd prefer if you left me alone," he said. "I was told to rest, and that's not possible with you here."

"Why the hostility?" She yanked herself free. "I only wanted to check your wound. I doubt Dr. Wilson's coming here to see you often. He needs to make himself available in case the royalty of this land needs him." Again, she touched his bandages. He didn't try to stop her this time, so she peeked beneath and wrinkled her nose.