Page 52 of Kingdom Of Veil And Vow

“We do, Sire, but they need more time to gather it.”

King Dolian growls and stands in front of the Mirror once more, the hand that was slipped in his pocket coming out. “You promised it would only take a few weeks!” Bringing his hand up to his nose, he closes his eyes as he drags in a deeper breath.

Simon clears his throat, my attention diverting to him. Though he stands tall, he fidgets nervously. I’d mock him for it if it wasn’t the first time I had seen him as anything other than calm and collected. “The Mage Kingdom is a big place, and she could be hiding anywhere within it.”

“With him,” the king growls, the possession in his voice making me nauseous. “King Sadryn Daxel of the Mage Kingdom!” Shoving his hand back in his pocket, the king stares ahead at the Mirror as it ripples with the command of his words, turning smoky across the reflective glass.

My eyes widen, having never seen its magic work in person before. When I glance at Simon and Jerrick, I find their attention wholly on the Mirror, the latter leaning forward to try and gain a better look from where we stand off to the side.

Abruptly, the image clears, revealing a head of wavy black hair and a set of dark gray eyes. The man whom I presume to be the king startles back a step, cursing his surprise at seeing King Dolian. Looking past the king’s shoulders, I bite down on my tongue to hide my own surprise at who else joins the mage king. Princess Rhea is right there, and standing next to her is Flynn. What are they doing with the king?

“King Sadryn, I’m glad to see you’ve finally answered my call.” King Dolian’s voice slips just a little when he notices them. He pulls his hand from his pocket, fists forming at his sides as he stares at Flynn. “You.”

“Well you have my attention now, King Dolian,” King Sadryn says, trying to step more into frame as if he can block the princess and Flynn. “What can I do for you?”

I examine the mage king, something about him familiar. But I’ve never interacted with a mage before. Well, I guess except for— My gaze darts to Flynn, and I nearly choke out a disbelieving sound.

“You sent your son to infiltrate my kingdom?” King Dolian snarls as he comes to the same realization. Jerrick curses under his breath, prompting a withering look from Simon, but even the king’s advisor appears out of sorts, his own garish face devoid of color.

Flynn is the mage prince? Why was he pretending to be a mortal guard? I look to Princess Rhea again, her normally bright green gaze dulled as she stands utterly frozen, her eyes locked on King Dolian.

And he notices that too. “Hello, my darling Rhea.” The cadence of his voice makes me feel ill, his hand traveling into his pocket again.

What the fuck does he have in there?

“Are you having fun on your little adventure away from home?”

A growl rumbles from somewhere on that side of the Mirror, but Princess Rhea lifts her chin defiantly. “The Mortal Kingdom is not my home.”

King Dolian laughs, the sound broken. As if he’s trying to piece together enough notes to mimic one. “Don’t you remember what I told you? You can run and hide, but I will always find you.” He leans closer, his voice dropping. “You belong to me. You always have, and you always will.”

With each word spoken, the small amount of confidence the princess managed to muster disappears. Flynn—or fuck, what was the mage prince’s name again?—presses closer to her, something stirring in the shadows behind him.

“Enough,” King Sadryn commands, his dark brows lowering over his eyes. “Lady Rhea is not a thing to possess. She is a person who has chosen to stay in my kingdom. She is protected here, King Dolian, and there is nothing you can do to force her to go back.”

“She was stolen from me!” Chest heaving, King Dolian takes up all the available space in front of the Mirror. Close enough that if it weren’t for the magic blocking him, he might actually be able to seize her. “Rhea, I want you to listen very carefully. You are mine, and I will stop at nothing to bring you back to where you belong. If that means showing you the depths of what I’m willing to do, then so be it. But it will be your hands dirtied with the blood of the sacrifices you’re willing to make so that you can play pretend with that lying prince!”

The shadows behind the prince move, wafting up and over his shoulders until they cascade down his arms and around Princess Rhea, a cloak of horrifying, writhing black that sends a shiver down my spine.

“Incredible,” Simon whispers. Not the word I would use for whatever disturbing magic that is.

“I am going to kill you,” the mage prince vows.

“When she is back at my side and I have her in every way you cannot, it will be you who dies a slow and painful death.” King Dolian cocks his head, his voice deepening. “Enjoy the safety of your people while you have it, King Sadryn. One can never be too sure when such a thing might be ripped away.” The magic of the Mirror swirls when he marches away, clouding the image of Princess Rhea until she’s gone, and the room is reflecting back at us.

The king’s chest heaves with labored breaths, a hand running through his hair as he growls his frustration out with every exhale. Fists curling and uncurling at his sides, he turns towards the three of us, the feral rage in his hazel eyes one I’ve only ever seen once before. The scars at my back twinge with a phantom pain beneath his stare, and as he rushes towards us, I know whatever is about to happen won’t be good.

“Sword!” he shouts, pointing to my sheathed weapon. I slide it free, barely having time to turn it over in my hand when he yanks it from my grasp. “Turn around.” Terror balloons in my gut, my eyes flicking up to the king’s. But he isn’t talking to me.

“Wh-what?” Jerrick asks, his voice uncharacteristically shaky.

“Turn around!” Lifting the sword, he points it directly at Jerrick’s neck, the Trusted guard’s steps faltering as he hesitates for another second before turning.

“Your Majesty,” Simon cuts in, his demeanor far more calm than I would have expected, “we can strategize—”

My throat closes as King Dolian swings, the blade of my sword colliding with the golden armor covering Jerrick’s back, ushering a resounding vibration of noise into the room.

“I’m done talking,” the king grunts, drawing the sword back.