AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Then again, I’ve never had need to visit the throne room until today.
Mika is ahead, mimicking the guard’s march, but his short legs are unable to match the pace and it leaves him scrambling every few steps to catch up. If not for the dire situation, I would laugh at my comical son.
“I do not know how he keeps such high spirits for a boy who has seen much,” Corrin says alongside me, Lilou’s hand gripped within hers.
“Children are resilient.” Far more so than I. The screams Mika let out while they made me stand and watch Lord Danthrin punish him still haunt me. It caused such damage and unending pain, I wasn’t sure Mika would have use of his hand afterward. The village priestess with no true caster affinities whatsoever recommended they cut it off to offer him relief. But Lady Danthrin insisted we leave it to remind Mika—and others—of his folly.
As if a stump wouldn’t remind everyone all the same.
In the end, I’m thankful for her cruel interference. If they’d cut off his hand, Priestess Wendeline would have had nothing to fix when we visited her that day. She took his pain away and gave him full use of it again.
Another traitor to the realm, according to rumor. What has become of the caster, I do not know. Some say she was burned in a fiery ball the night of the royal repast. Others insist she was executed along with the rest of Cirilea’s casters. And yet a few swear she remains locked in the dungeon beneath the castle.
“Thank the fates for that.” Corrin’s focus is on the looming doors of the throne room ahead, her face grim.
I lower my voice from prying ears. “Please tell me, once we walk through those doors, what should I expect?” Of anyone in the household, Corrin will speak truth without rolling it in sugar first.
She worries her lips. “A show of power and of new rule.”
That’s what I’m afraid of. “At my family’s expense?” We are a baker and three small children. We are no one. But perhaps that is the whole point. Our mortal lives mean nothing, and yet trading them will earn a lord’s loyalty. If Danthrin has a loyal bone in his body.
“It’s always at someone’s expense, isn’t it?”
That does not alleviate my surging panic. “And this king? Is he like the last one?” Not that I ever met King Zander, but it’s general knowledge throughout the castle that he was sympathetic to his mortal subjects and their plights.
Corrin’s attention flitters to the guard, who is ahead and likely out of easy listening. Still, she slows her pace and drops her voice to a whisper. “He is young and brash, and much prefers his sword to diplomacy. Soldiers revere him and will follow him anywhere, including to seize his brother’s crown.”
“Is he kind?” Sabrina complains about the infrequent visits, wishing things would return to normal, which tells me he can’t be cruel. I never wished for more evenings with Lord Danthrin, or any of the Islorians he passed me along to. I dreaded those nights and still wake in a cold sweat every time I relive them in my sleep.
Corrin’s lips purse. The night of the mutiny, she stormed into our room and told us to bolt the door. The next day, she returned and calmly announced that there was a new ruler. Beyond that, she has never outwardly taken sides and has warned me to follow suit, for my own good. “King Atticus has an easy charm, but do not mistake that for kindness. Mortals are being hanged every day now, by his command. Some in the streets, without trial. He does not share the same soft spot for our kind that his brother does.” She sighs. “I cannot say for certain how this will end, Gracen.”
“You and I both know how this will end.” With my family stuffed into a wagon and dragged back to Freywich. “Please, Corrin, we cannot go back there. I would rather we all—”
“Hush now!” she hisses, before I can utter such horrendous words out loud. “You will survive this, as you’ve survived everything else. But you must keep your head up and your brave face on. For their sake”—she nods toward Mika—“and for yours.”
“Even if I’m terrified?” Even if I’d rather jump into the river with my family than return to our old life?
“Especially then.” Her eyes flash to mine. “But whatever you do, do not lie to him.”
The two guards manning the enormous doors draw them open with ease, revealing the immense room and crowd beyond.
Nausea churns in my stomach. “Mika, stay by my side at all times, and do not say a single word,” I whisper.
Countless heads swivel, and my stomach tenses under the rapt attention of Islor’s lords and ladies, at least the ones who did not run home to safeguard their lands at the first signs of this poison. Most discount us immediately, but there are those who watch my little family tread along the marble aisle toward the steps, their keen interest on my children. I can guess what they see—the same thing Lord Danthrin hoped for when he acquired me: a high return on investment.
