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The guards drag—or carry, I’m no longer sure which—me back to the surface and through the silent palace. At some point, the support of their arms is gone, and I land face down on the hard floor. The stones don’t burn as they usually do, and I welcome their coldness that numbs my pain. I don’t care how ridiculous I must look, I just want the world to stop spinning, for my breaths to stop hurting so much.
It takes such a long time for my vision to clear that the sun is already climbing over the horizon, bathing the world in crimson red of disappointment and anger. I sit up to a headache splitting my head in two and bringing it back on itself with a crushing pain.
I lean on the walls covered by a wallpaper with leaves of golden stitches under flowers of sparkling gems. A desk of polished wood stands next to a large window where branches of high trees brush the sill.
“Don’t even think about it.”
I don’t have to turn around to recognize the voice ravaged by years of smoking. Yet I do it anyway and find him standing next to the door with his hands clasped behind his back and his gaze set on me. Idris stands on the other side, mirroring his captain’s posture. Except he looks at anything but me. Even if caught with a rebel, I’m still a princess, and he doesn’t want his head to roll.
Only one question circles through my mind.
Why Valdus isn’t with me in what looks like my father’s study? He’s as much a part of the rebellion as I am. Even more. I’m only a pawn in this game. He’s the King.
I lean back on the wall, searching for any sign of life energy. My own or Valdus’s. I have to know that he’s breathing. That he’s alive.
It might have been minutes or days later when the door to the room opens. Magnar walks inside in that rapid stride of his with a company of four heavily armed guards. His attire is of spotless black with blazing lines of gold and green circling his wrists and running up to his shoulders. His hair is brushed back with no strand out of place. No one would ever guess that news of two rebels who broke into the palace had pulled him out of bed. Three if you count Numair, who slipped away before anyone could notice him.
“Your presence will not be necessary,” Magnar says and waves his guards away. Only Siro and Idris stay behind.
My father’s eyes fall on me, and I notice red rimming those eyes of sparkling green fury. A wince is the only thing he does to acknowledge my presence before turning back to Siro and Idris, still waiting for their orders. “Who did that?”
Idris swallows hard, waiting for his captain to speak, but Siro only smirks.
“I’m not a man in the habit of repeating myself,” my father says, his words enough of a threat to send a shiver down my spine.
Siro finally clears his throat. “There was a fight in the dungeons. Rev stuck his nose where he wasn’t supposed to. Idris got handsy.”
“Liar,” I lisp before I can stop myself.
My father’s gaze flickers to me, but I make an effort not to meet it.
“Did you dare to touch the princess?” Magnar says, stepping closer to Idris. “Not only that, but did you dare to hurt her?”
“If the captain says so, then yes,” Idris says, and I want to laugh at his unwavering loyalty to the captain who would sell his own mother to save his hide.
“As it’s your emperor who’s asking, I’d advise you to reflect on what will come out of your mouth the next time you open it,” Magnar adds. Even I can hear the notes of amusement crinkling his voice, and it makes me sick to my stomach to know he enjoys making his own guards squirm. “Let’s try again. Was it you who has hurt my daughter?”
“I restrained her back in the dungeons as she resisted accompanying us here, Our Sun and Light.” Idris glances my way, but then as if remembering where he is and what it could mean, he straightens his back and sets his gaze on the wall. “It was Captain Siro who punched her. Several times at that. She might have a broken rib and several bruises on her skin other than the visible wounds.”
My father turns to me as if waiting for me to confirm or deny Idris’ statement, but I have nothing to say to any of them. I’ve learned my lesson. Where it concerns Magnar’s decisions, it won’t matter.
As if to confirm what I already know, Magnar pulls a gun from his belt and a loud bang echoes through the room.
42
My ears ring, bringing my headache to a new level of pain. Desperate to shut away the thump of a lifeless body from my mind, I bury my head between my knees and try to breathe through the panic flooding me.
“More than anything else I value honesty,” my father’s voice carries across the room despite my effort to shut it away. “That, and your devotion to the empire has earned you the rank of captain today.”
I cracked my eyes open in time to see Magnar rip the bloodied green sash from Siro’s arm and tie it tight around Idris’s. The guard’s face is as blank as a sheet of paper, but I doubt he finds this as abominable as I do. He’s a soldier of this empire after all.
“Go find someone to clean up this mess,” my father says, turning away and setting his burning gaze on me.
His eyes trace the cuts on my face. He can show his disgust all he wants, but as soon as I get enough strength to stand straight, I’ll fight him to my last breath. I’ll give any and every part of myself to get Valdus out of my father’s reach.
“This is going to be a long evening,” Magnar adds before Idris can slip away.
Evening? It isn’t a break of dawn but a sundown?
