A Royal Likeness Read Online Free PDF Page A

find. What more do you want?”
    “Satisfaction is what we want. And we haven’t had it yet.”
    Nicholas raised a hand in a peaceful gesture, but it was interpreted as aggression by Reggie, who sought the slightest provocation in order to escalate his power.
    Whatever Nicholas said next was drowned out by Reggie’s belligerent roar. In the span of seconds, Reggie had grabbed a pitchforkfrom another man’s hands and thrust it up to Nicholas’s face, still shouting. It was impossible for Marguerite to hear anything Nicholas was saying over Reggie’s yelling and the rush of blood in her own ears, but her husband was standing his ground with the trespasser. She watched as Nicholas brought up both hands this time to shove the pitchfork away from him.
    Reggie’s fury was now beyond redemption.
    Grabbing the pitchfork with both hands for leverage, he thrust it viciously into Nicholas’s stomach. Marguerite felt a bitter nausea that overrode the heat, the smoke, and the noise as she witnessed at least three of the prongs entering his torso.
    This is not real. This is not happening. This is madness. Wake up, I must wake up!
    She shut her eyes for the briefest moment and reopened them. The scene remained the same, except that Nicholas had fallen to the ground on his side, the weapon still lodged in him. Reggie rolled Nicholas onto his back with one foot and used the same foot to steady himself against his victim as he pulled the pitchfork out of his body. He wiped the tines against his pants leg and casually handed it back to the pitchfork’s owner.
    The shop went completely silent except for the crackling of the torches.
    “Blast, Reggie,” said the man with the pitchfork. “Did you ever kill a man before?”
    “No, this was my first. Wasn’t that hard, really.”
    Marguerite swallowed the fear rising in her throat, which threatened to disgorge the contents of her stomach, a supper shared with Nicholas just an hour previously.
    She tamped down the fear, and quickly replaced it with white-hot rage at the sight of her husband lying motionless on the floor. How dare they attack her husband, her innocent husband, and this defenseless shop, for no reason other than to vent against some imagined adversary. What insanity had befallen the kingdom that marauding bands of drunkards could willfully attack its loyal subjects?
    Nicholas, I must get to Nicholas. He needs help. I have to find a doctor for him.
    Without thinking, she picked up a Chinese vase from the counter, a gift from a grateful customer. With a force that can only come from that unhappy blend of grief and wrath, she hurled the vase over the men’s heads at the only remaining unbroken window of the shop. Both window and vase exploded into countless delicate shards from the impact.
    At least a dozen heads snapped up in one motion, all eyes on Marguerite.
    “Damn you, get out! All of you. You’re nothing but a bunch of mangy curs and you will get out this
instant.
I hope you rot in hell. No, wait, I don’t want you to rot. I want you to feel pain without end. I hope Satan himself stabs all of you over and over every day for eternity. And that your nose is broken once a week, always, and that you forever taste your own blood from your wounds.” As she screamed her curses at the men, she picked up and threw anything her hands blindly grabbed from the counter. Scissors, inkwells, and fashion-plate books all went plunging through the air seeking random targets.
    Would no one on the street come to their aid?
    But even Reggie was sufficiently subdued by Marguerite’s wild madness. The men all eyed one another nervously, and as a single mind decided that between the proprietor’s stabbing and his wife’s raving, they had seen enough action for one inebriated evening. Without waiting for direction from either Reggie or Mr. Emmett, the men scurried for the door and freedom while Marguerite spent herself on heaving every last projectile she could find.
    A new silence