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With a deep breath, I pushed…
Only to find no tapestry barring my way.
What the—?
I froze, surprised to find it gone. Why would they move their embroidery like that? They never took their cloth artwork down, not even to clean them. The servants usually just beat them with a broom where they hung, slapping the dust free, and called it good.
Realizing something was wrong, I began to retreat, reversing back into the escape hall. But a voice behind me said, “There you are,” just as something sharp nudged me in the back.
Something sharp that felt very much like a sword.
“Hands where we can see them, boy,” another voice—this one from the front, in the main corridor—commanded.
Lifting my hands to my sides in surrender, I cursed fluidly when Greggor appeared before me.
Yeah, this wasn’t going to end well.
He sneered back, amused by my misfortune. “So the prodigal son returns, hmm? We’ve been waiting for you, bastard.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Missed me, did you?”
With a chuckle, Greggor replied, “Always. We’ve no amusing beatings to watch in the throne room without you around to whip.” He glanced past me to whoever held the weapon against my spine. “Take him to the throne room. The royals are awaiting his presence there.”
The blade pierced deeper into my spine, slicing through my clothes and nicking flesh. “You heard him,” I was told. “Get moving.”
I flinched with the next painful nudge and reluctantly shuffled forward. Mind spinning with ways I could escape and get to Sable, I planned my next move, for I knew I couldn’t remain caught. I had to get out of here.
Reacting before I fully thought it all through, however, I ducked suddenly, shifting to the side to avoid the sword at my back. As soon as I was liberated from the blade, I spun around, kicked out, and caught the guard by the legs, tripping him to the floor.
He fell heavily, and I used that split second to steal his sword and leap up, gaining the upper hand. With a quick jab through his chest, I was free from his captivity, armed, and prepared to fight my way out.
In front of us, Greggor had stopped walking. With his hands still held placidly behind his back, he turned around and gave the dead soldier a bored glance, only to lift his hand and snap his fingers.
Immediately, half a dozen more soldiers filled the hall, all of them drawing their weapons.
“We can do this all day,” Greggor reported mildly. “I’ll fetch the entire army into this passage to subdue you, if that’s what it takes to get you to the throne room, but you will go there, and you will speak with His Majesty.”
My jaw hardened. I glared toward the soldiers, who were ready and prepared to lay down their lives to attack me. Sneering, I rolled my shoulders and returned my gaze to Greggor.
“Fine,” I answered. “But I’ll walk, unaided and of my own volition.” I lifted the sword I still held. “And I’m keeping this.”
Greggor studied my hard expression before shrugging. “If it makes you comply, then whatever.” He turned away and started down the hall once more. “This way, whipping boy.”
I huffed, debating my options. Kill these six and then my father’s top advisor before he could summon more guards, or go to the king and try to reason with him. Already knowing how far I wouldn’t get with him, I nearly drew my sword and flew into combat, but decided against it. I needed to look into the king’s eyes one last time and finally be free of this power he’d always held over me.
This would be good closure, I tried to tell myself.
“Tor,” Greggor called as he entered the throne room ahead of me. “You have a visitor.”
“Who is it?” the king began, only to half rise from his chair when I entered behind his advisor and stopped in the middle of the floor in front of him. “Farrow. My God. They said you’d return.”
“And a rat can always be flushed out of its hidey hole,” Greggor added with a mocking scoff as he slumped into his seat of honor to the king’s left. “We found him sneaking in through the hidden passage, just as we were warned he would.”
Warned? I squinted in confusion, because I hadn’t even planned on entering the castle that way until just this morning, and I certainly hadn’t shared my ideas with anyone else. How could they know—?
That’s when I noticed the queen’s seat to His Majesty’s right was actually filled with the queen herself. Kalendria sat by her husband for the first time ever and cradled a sleeping child in her arms, smirking victoriously at me.
It was who I noticed standing between her and the king, however, that made my blood run cold. I focused on the man who lingered slightly behind their chairs, long robes adorning his frame and purple birthmark coating his bald head.
