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They were dead.
Chapter 15
I was shaking as I stalked through the main hall of Wayfair, passing the Royal banners and the gold-plated sconces that burned even with all the daylight streaming in through the many windows. Servants came and went in a continuous stream as they scurried from the kitchens to the Great Hall. They carried vases of night-blooming roses that were currently closed, pressed table linens, and glasses scrubbed spotless. As I walked, I couldn’t believe how the entire floor of Wayfair Castle smelled of roasted meat and baking desserts, while the Coupers lay dead in their bed, the evidence of what Penn and Amarys believed was their only option resting in that empty vial. They’d chosen a quicker death over a longer, drawn-out one. Meanwhile, there was enough food being prepared right now to have fed them for a month.
I wanted to tear down the banners and the sconces, rip the cloth and shatter glass. Fisting my dusty skirts, I climbed the wide, polished limestone stairs to the second floor, where I knew I’d find my stepfather. The greeting rooms on the lower level, lining the banquet room, were only used when meeting guests. I’d already checked there, and both rooms had been empty.
Reaching the landing, I headed into the castle’s west wing. As soon as the hall came into view, I saw several men outside my stepfather’s private rooms. The Royal Guards stood in their ridiculous uniforms, staring straight ahead, their hands resting on the hilts of swords I doubted they’d ever lifted in battle.
None of them looked in my direction as I approached. “I need to see the King.”
The Royal Guard who blocked the door didn’t even blink as he continued to stare straight ahead. He made no move to step aside.
My patience had left me the moment I saw what had become of the Couper family. I stepped closer to the guard, close enough that I saw the tendons of his jaw clench. “You either step aside, or I will knock you aside.”
That got the older man’s attention. His gaze flicked to me, the lines at the corners of his eyes deepening.
“And please feel free to doubt that I would carry through on that threat. Because I would love nothing more than to prove just how wrong you are,” I promised.
Pink seeped into the man’s face as his knuckles bleached white from how tightly he held the sword.
I cocked my head to the side, arching a brow. If he even dared to lift that fist an inch, I would break every godsdamn bone in his hand or die trying.
“Step aside, Pike,” another Royal Guard ordered.
Pike looked as if he would rather shove his entire face into a pot of boiling water, but he stepped aside. He didn’t reach for the door as he would’ve done for anyone else. The blatant disrespect wasn’t surprising, but I couldn’t care less as I gripped the heavy, gold handle and pushed the door open.
The rich sent of pipe tobacco surrounded me the moment I stepped into the sunlight-drenched chamber. Rays of light reflected off the handblown glass figurines lining the shelves. Some were of the gods and Primals. Others were animals, buildings, carriages, and trees. The King had collected them for as long as I could remember. I found him sitting behind the heavy iron desk at one end of the circular chamber.
King Ernald’s back was to the windows and balcony he’d stood on the night before. He had always been larger than life to me, broad of chest and tall, quick to laugh and smile. He wasn’t as ageless as my mother, though. The brown hair at his temples was beginning to gray, and the lines at the corners of his eyes and across his forehead were deepening.
Right now, there was nothing large about him.
Surprise shuttled across the King of Lasania’s face as he looked at the door. It was brief. His features soon smoothed out into the mask of impassivity he always wore when I was present. Those laughs and smiles always faded once he knew I was near.
Deep down, I think he feared me, even before I had been found unworthy.
My stepfather wasn’t alone. I realized that the moment I stepped into the office and saw the back of my stepbrother’s head. He was seated on the settee in the center of the room, idly picking through a bowl of dates.
The room was otherwise empty.
“Sera.” The King’s tone was flat. “What are you doing here?”
No warmth or fondness. His question was a demand, not a request. In the past, that’d stung. After I was found unworthy, I felt nothing. Today, however, it sent a hot flash of rage through me. If he didn’t know why I was here, that meant he had no idea that I’d spent the last several hours watching the first guards I’d come across bury the Coupers.
