Page 28 of Kingdom Of Veil And Vow

“She would take her time in the morning, stretching slowly as if she could time her movements to the awakening sun. But as the day wore on, an anxiousness rose within her. She’d clean parts of the tower that were already spotless. Fluff the cushions of the small couch and Alexi’s chair despite having never sat on them. She’d run the tips of her fingers over the spines of the books in her library, only stopping when she’d find one that she hadn’t read before.” Bella sighs, and the cloth splashes in the water. “Meanwhile, I remember basking in the sun. I remember feeling content but strangely so, as if some part of me knew that something was off. But I was alive, and Rhea was kind. For the first time in a long, long time, I felt safe.” My heart begins to pound in my chest, sure I know what she will say next. “It all disappeared when the king showed up.”

Fabric rustles, snapping behind me as if she is shaking out the folded clothing. Interlacing my fingers, I squeeze them tightly between my knees as I ask, “Where did you go to hide from him?”

“My ears had perked as I heard footsteps coming up the tower, and Rhea knew that it was him. She immediately began begging me to hide. I was so confused because, until that point, only Alexi had visited, and he was always kind to her. To me. There was so much fear in her voice that I did as she asked and darted to the library just as the tower door opened.”

The rustling of clothes ceases, replaced by a deep thumping sound. I realize that it is the beating of my own heart. I know how this story will end, forced to watch it replay in my mind over and over again.

“You can turn around now.”

I wait additional seconds after her permission before turning around, finding her sitting on her cot, her fingers attempting to work through the knots in her hair. The tunic she wears is dark green, the feminine embroidery out of place in the grime and roughness of this place. Her pants are a deep blue, the cut of them near form-fitting. I don’t know if the clothing comes from Tienne herself or if she found them elsewhere, but they fit almost perfectly. Bella’s amber eyes flash my way, lines forming between her brows at my inspection of her. Clearing my throat, I avert my gaze and gesture for her to continue.

“Shifters are made of two beings: animal and mortal. Back on my island, there is a sickness that can occur if one stays too long in either form. It can make them go mad. Make them forget not only reason and sanity but their actual memories.” My chest tightens as I glance back up at her, eyes lost as she stares down at the ground. “I was stuck as a fox for four years, guardsman. That is no short amount of time.”

“You look rather sane to me,” I offer somewhat lamely, my voice too loud in this space. Immie snorts, the sound making Bella’s lips twitch briefly.

“Perhaps, but that time did alter my memories. I tell you this because despite the affliction, the wiping of those early moments in the tower, there is one memory that has stayed with me throughout it all. One memory that, no matter how I wish I could forget it, always filters through the haze of my magic.” Our gazes clash again, breath getting caught in my chest as her hands fall to her lap, fingers twining together. “Her screams,” she whispers, throat working with a swallow. “I will never forget the first time King Dolian made her scream.”

Chapter Nineteen: Xander

Returning the bucket and satchel to the hidden room had been an arduous task. Not because there were many things to carry—if anything, the load was lightened by Bella using the water to wash and emptying the bag of its contents. I left the shifter with her own parchment-wrapped treat along with a hair brush and a thin blanket, the latter two insisted upon by Tienne. Bella’s brow had arched when I handed them over, likely because I had watched her finger through her hair. I shrugged off the look, letting her presume me to be an ass when in reality, I was too enraptured by her words to remember that the brush was in the bag to begin with.

I had bore witness to so much abuse against the princess by King Dolian, yet some small part of me hoped that perhaps his attention was only something that had festered in the last year. That, prior to me joining the Trusted, he’d never laid a finger on her. I knew he visited her somewhat frequently, but I stupidly believed him when he said she was a recluse, that she preferred that life. And when I had seen the truth, when I watched for the first time as she braced for an attack because she knew one was coming, I almost intervened.

I wanted to believe that I and I alone understood the depravity of the king’s thoughts. His actions. But I was lying to myself. And every trip to the tower after, I needed to temper the urge to step in with the reminder that if I did, everything would be lost. Every sacrifice would be for nothing. Then I was forced to reconcile the fact that by not acting, by choosing the resistance over her, I had a hand in breaking Princess Rhea. I saw it the night Alexi died, heard it in the agonizing way she screamed out for him when the sword pierced his chest. In the horrified look she gave me when I callously told her that we were taking his body. Whatever assumptions I have about the princess, I know one thing to be undoubtedly true: if she were to come seeking revenge for what King Dolian had done, he wouldn’t be the only one who was guilty of driving her to that point.

Thinking about Alexi made me wonder if Bella truly didn’t recognize me. I thought her agitation and defiance in telling me anything about Princess Rhea was because she knew I was one of the king’s Trusted. But if she would hide in the tower every time the king appeared, then it is likely she never saw me until the day she and the princess attempted to escape. I doubt she will tell me anything if she learns the truth of who I am, so I decide as I re-enter the tunnel that in order to gain more of her trust, I will have to keep that fact hidden.

Cold stone bites into my palm, my fingers curling over the hilt of my sword as I stand at the exit of a smaller dining room. Though King Dolian prefers to eat all meals, whether with his court or alone with Simon, in the king’s dining hall, I had been surprised to learn he wanted this meal taken in the dining hall of the western wing. This part of the castle is older, the decor that still hangs reminiscent of a different time. Thick red curtains are pulled shut, gold detailing in the pattern of falling stars embroidered on their fronts. A large matching rug is set beneath us, while a cloth in coordinating fabric lays over the table top. It even smells older here, like the remnants of past meals are clinging to the wood.

Simon is reclined against the back of his chair, fingers steepled beneath his chin as if deep in thought. I look to where King Dolian has an elbow leaning on the table, his upper body draped over his third chalice of cherry wine. Despite the savory scent of roasted chicken, steamed vegetables, and freshly baked rolls, anger simmers beneath the surface—acrid as it balances on my tongue. Even if I were not adept at reading the king’s emotions, the fury brimming from him needs no decoding.

“We will get her back, Your Majesty,” Simon offers into the stilted silence, his posture rigid except for the tips of his fingers lightly bouncing off each other, cascading in movement. “It is only time—”

“Time that I don’t have,” the king snarls, tilting his head back to take a large gulp of wine. “It has been nearly a month of her absence. A month of him having what is mine. A mere guard, a fucking lowly mage! Daring to think he has any right to her!” He slams a fist on the table, rattling the plates and silverware in front of him.

Simon nods, as if the king’s arguments are sound. “And he will pay for those transgressions, I am sure of it. The Mage Kingdom is not infinite in size, my king. They cannot hide there forever.” The king presses back into his massive chair as Simon speaks, one hand framing the short beard at his jaw. “What you need now is a distraction. Something to clear your mind so that you may realize the best way forward.”

King Dolian huffs in indignation, lazily tracing the rim of the chalice with a finger. “What I need is new information. Information that my Trusted should be gathering for me.”

I stay still, my gaze focused not on the two men surely looking at me now but a fixed point on the table. If King Dolian demands that I tell him what I’ve learned so far, I will have nothing of value to give him. Not yet.

“I will be visiting our newest dungeon guest,” Simon drawls eagerly, sending a shiver down my spine. “Perhaps I should see what information I can gather from our shifter friend while I’m there.”

Fuck. If Simon gets involved, any leverage I might hope to gain—any knowledge I might learn about the princess—is gone. I need him to stay far away from Bella.

King Dolian rubs his fingers over his jaw, a low rumble vibrating from his throat. “No,” he finally says, drinking the last bit of wine from his cup. “Xander knows what is at stake if he fails to get this done.” He stands, running his hands over his navy vest before sliding one into his pocket. “I will take that distraction you mentioned in my quarters.”

“Of course. I’ll send her right away.”

Jerrick and I follow the king as he makes his way towards the exit, his steps surprisingly sound despite the alcohol that I know is sitting heavily in his gut. Simon retreats to grab the king’s distraction, and I bite back the urge to gag at the thought. I hated that I knew he had various preferred—women he coerced into his bed. We climb a set of winding stairs to the second floor, hooking right and then left until we finally enter the king’s wing, the guards stationed there bowing.

“Jerrick, you are dismissed for the evening.” His bloodshot eyes then meet mine as he slows to a stop. I open the door to his rooms, waiting for him to enter. “Stay at this post for the night, Xander,” he commands, chin lifting. “And I expect a full debrief of what you have learned from the shifter by the end of the week.”

I bow my head, shutting the door behind him. Jerrick sends an irritating smirk my way before he leaves, poking at the frustration already hot in my chest. I need more time—time to get Bella to trust me. To let down the guard she so clearly has built up around her. Relaxing my shoulders, I inhale deeply and then blow it out, just as a woman enters the corridor. Her blonde hair is loose around her shoulders, cascading over the purple silk robe she wears.

“I am here for His Majesty,” she says, voice quivering. Her fingers nervously scrunch the fabric between them, and I swallow the shame that burns the back of my throat as I reach for the door handle, stepping to the side to let her pass. She murmurs her thanks, looking back over her shoulder at me. My stomach dips when her blue eyes meet mine, her facial features soft. Shutting the door, I lean back against it and try to focus on the beat of my heart, the forced steadiness of my breath. But when noises begin to seep through the wood, I can’t help but tense. The fact that my own father wanted me to hear this—that he wanted me to know he is forcing a woman to pleasure him. I’m going to throw up. I search for the reasons why I must stay at this post. Why I can’t walk away—from the king. From this life. I have a blood vow to him, yes, but it merely states that I won’t strike him down with my own hand. I could run and be long gone before he realizes where I am…

The thought dies before it’s fully formed.