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On the other hand, I may not have been able to handle seeing Liam. I longed to be in his arms, to let him hold me, shoulder some of this pain, and give me someone to lean on. But that was impossible, and I would have hated for him to see me like this. Seeing me this degraded, filthy, and abused would kill him.
I hated for Elijah to see me this way as well, but at least it didn’t affect him the way it would affect Liam. Elijah was as unmoved by my current state as I expected, glowering at me through eyes so similar to his brother’s that it hurt to look. I wouldn’t look again.
Elijah Ashton hadn’t cared what happened to me for a long time and wouldn’t start now after years of animosity. So, the question was, what brought Elijah there? Why was he there when no one else was allowed admittance?
With a nod from the king to his brother, Head Councilman Ashton started to lead the interrogation from his position at the king's right hand. He sat higher and glared down at me. “Kaia Noelani, you have been charged with treason. How do you plead?”
The guards loaded questions told me why I was arrested and why Father was executed. Most of it was lies or speculation. But one thing became glaringly apparent— Father did not tell me as much as I thought he did. He was either unfairly accused, or his actions were justified. If justified, what had the king done to warrant the malice of the noblest man I had ever known?
“Not guilty,” I said. That's all I ever said.
“Lies!” Councilman Victor Corentin, the king’s cousin, leaned over and slammed his palms on the table so he could glare down into my face. “Were you involved in the assassination plot with your father in any way? Know anything? You had to know something.”
I’d had minimal interactions with Councilman Corentin in the past, but even without looking, anyone could recognize that bothersome voice. It grated on your nerves.
Despite the sneers the councilors wore that day, and the blank mask they generally wore for the masses, I had enough information to know they were generally kind. But Victor Corentin was the exception. He was hard all the way through.
Grown men could falter once trapped in his unyielding, piercing stare, his gray eyes seeming to steal your soul. He never uttered a single kind word for anyone’s benefit. He was a silent, antagonistic presence, only speaking when his words would leave the most impact and very rarely in a positive way.
It didn’t help that I could feel Elijah’s eyes drilling into the side of my face, waiting for me to incriminate myself.
I hated having his attention on me. He was the type of person who made you feel small and powerless in his presence, yet you still wished you were ten feet tall in order to draw his attention. Once he rewarded you with said attention, you wished to be small again, knowing you’d never meet his expectations.
He was distracting, and I couldn’t afford that. These were the most powerful men in the country. I couldn’t fool myself into thinking they invited me there for my benefit, and I would be wise not to forget that. They could do much worse than they’d already done.
It took severe effort, but I managed to school my features. They didn’t want my story. They wanted whatever story they’d drummed up.
“No,” I said, fiddling with my cuff, trying to ease some of the pressure on my raw wrists. “I can’t even confirm if Father was a part of the assassination attempt. I know nothing.”
“I assure you, child, he was guilty,” the King swore. “I was there, after all. My personal guard, William, was able to divert the blade meant for my chest and lost his own life in the process. Such a shame, too. It’s hard to find quality help anymore.”
“Thank you, Your Highness, you’re quite right,” contributed Councilman Lachlan Vitahly, nodding.
All of the men in this room were handsome and privileged in their own right. Means had afforded them access to an abundance of food and healers to keep them vigorous in their old age, so they didn’t wear the burden of a hard life etched into their features like their subjects. They lived lavishly and enjoyed opportunities only presented to the few. And even though once, I would have included Father in the ruling class, the councilors were the ultimate elite.
My privilege was becoming more glaringly evident each day as it was being stripped away. Apparently, climbing too high makes it hard to see those at the bottom. And the rest of us are too busy looking up to look down.
To them, this man’s worth expired with his death, alongside his usefulness to the king. And this is the first time I noticed that.
“Yes, Councilman, sir,” I said, head slightly bowed in contrition. It couldn’t hurt to add in the extra deferential title. They’d want their asses kissed. Pompous assholes, the lot of them.
I’m not being completely fair. Lachlan was a good man. Of everyone on the council, he intermingled the most with the people, making him more attuned to their needs. He visited the villages on missions for the King and regularly interacted with the common people. As of late, Lachlan had been away often from the palace, one of the only councilmen who’d ventured out of the capital as rebel uprisings increased in severity and prevalence, making the villages no longer safe for the nobles.
Not only was he the only generally approachable council member, giving people hope that he’d listen and right any wrong, but he was known for his intuition and intelligence. As the only councilman not of blood relation to the king, he needed ambition and smarts to earn his spot on the council, and he had used his arsenal of connections to advance in a world where people would rather see you fail.
“Councilman Vitahly, please continue,” Head Councilman Ashton said.
“Tell us about the note found in your suite,” Councilman Vitahly requested. “It was addressed to no one and had no signature. Just said, and I quote,” he pushed his silver wired glasses up his thick bridged nose and looked down at the papers in front of him, “‘Act quickly. The time to move is tonight.’ What is this referencing?”
“I know nothing about the note,” I replied. When Councilman Corentin scoffed, I looked to him, stretching my back, aching from standing this long for the first time in days, and continued, “I know it existed. I was the one who found it, and the guards have brought it up several times.”
“Some believe it was a message from the rebels giving your father the go ahead to kill the king,” Councilman Ashton said. When I didn’t reply to his unasked question, he frowned and continued. “Is that possible?”
“Anything is possible.”
I gave no reaction. I gave them nothing.
A few days ago, I wouldn’t have been able to approach these inquiries with even a small amount of calm. I had since figured out how to deal with those accusations, and this line of questioning was much tamer than how they had been asked in the past.
