If he ever even cared at all.
I roll my shoulders back and stretch my neck back and forth. I’m getting myself way too worked up over a small possibility. I need to focus on Elia who’s actually in front of me and cares for me. I don’t want to throw away the first person I’m falling for after Rafe. Whether or not we find the ring, this can be a trip for us to grow closer and to solidify our future plans. I smile at the thought, feeling better than I have since this plan formed.
My smile falls away as quickly as it came as I remember that my nexttask is to talk to the King. My shoulders hunch forward as I start the dreaded walk to his office in the highest tower.
I hear the King’s tantrum before I reach his door. There’s a faint sound of shattering glass and yells as I approach the landing. The two guards outside the door don’t meet my eyes.
“He’s in a bad state tonight, sir,” One of the guards – Jax – informs as I approach. “Not sure you want to see him.”
“Who’s in there with him? I heard him shouting on my climb up.”
“A new servant, sir, bringing the King his dinner. He’s not yet accustomed to the King.” Jax answers with his back straight, but I see the fear in his eyes for the King and the pity for the servant. The King’s personal maids and servants rotate so much I can’t keep track of who’s who. No one wants the position, no matter the pay.
I straighten my shoulders and pull my stoic mask on my face. I’d better interrupt before another servant quits or worse, mysteriously disappears.
I knock hard on the door, and I hear what sounds like a plate being knocked to the floor. “King Corvin, may I come in? It’s Callum, sir.”
I hear a grunt and take it as approval as I swing the door open. The King’s office is in a state of chaos I’ve never seen. The large, gilded oak desk is overturned, papers discarded on the floor. The dinner tray and its remnants are in a corner where the King must have thrown it. I scour the room for the servant, and see a young boy, probably no older than twelve or thirteen, huddling in the corner, hands covering his head, eyes squeezed shut.
He reminds me of a younger me, trying, but failing, to avoid the King’s ire. I used to huddle in that position, too, until I realized that cowardice only egged the King on. King Corvin is sitting in his favorite chair by the fire, unsurprisingly with a bottle in his hand. His jewels and finery are out of place amongst the devastation.
“Ah, Callum, my boy!” King Corvin greets me jovially.
I bow deeply. “Your Majesty.”
“Come sit, come sit.” He gestures wildly at the overturned chair in front of him.
I slowly lift the chair and fix it to the correct position, eyes tracking the servant boy still cowering, willing him to acknowledge me. “Your servant is wanted in the kitchens, sir, but I’m happy to assist in whatever you need.”
“Bah!” The King spits. “He’s useless to me anyways.”
The boy meets my gaze at last, and I subtly gesture for him to leave. He scampers away without a backwards glance, shutting the door with a loud thud.
I take the chair across from him. “Sir, I wanted to provide you with an update –”
“Have a drink, Callum,” The King interrupts, searching around him frantically for a cup.
I hastily pick one up off the floor and pass it to him. The King stares at the cup quizzically, then continues to drink from the bottle directly. His eyes are starting to glass over, and I know I don’t have long before he won’t remember this conversation.
I lean forward in my chair, hands clasped. “We’re leaving for Sevrin in two days, Your Majesty. Ginna, myself, and the girl.” I still don’t want the King to know Elia’s name. I also conveniently leave out the part of possibly reuniting with his son. “We have a promising lead for the Stone.”
The King nods slowly, head bobbing from side to side. “Soft…still too soft.”
“What?” He may be further in the bottle than I had originally thought.
“You’re too much like your whore of a mother still.” My jaw clenches, but I don’t react.
“I took you in out of the goodness of my heart, against my advisors’ wishes. I stopped you from growing up in a filthy orphanage – giving you a roof over your head, the finest clothes and foods the kingdom has. I treated you like my own son, hoping that you would grow into the man I thought you could be. Strong and ruthless. A man likeme.” He stops, taking a long swig from the bottle.
Silence passes and I realize he’s waiting for me to respond. “I’ve tried to make you proud, Your Majesty. I’ve done everything you’ve asked of me.” I hesitate before adding, “I’m thankful for the place you’ve given me here.”
The last part tastes bitter coming from my mouth. I was grateful at one point that the King had taken me in, shown interest in me. But I can’t help but wonder what I could have been if not raised here. The invisible shackles on my wrists grow heavier each year, and if I grew up at an orphanage, at least I wouldn’t have been chained. But I also wouldn’t have met Rafe, or now Elia, if it wasn’t for the King.
It’s safe to say that my feelings are complicated at best for him.
The King gives me a hard stare. “You’re lucky that you’re only slightly better than my pathetic son. Or else you’d be thrown out as quickly as he was.”
I stay silent, willing my hands to stop twitching. It’s one of the rare times he’s mentioned Rafe, and again I wonder why Rafe left in the first place.
