AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Doing my best to gather the ridiculous amount of underskirts, I followed behind Brunhilde. Despite my grievances against the weighty dress, the pointed leather shoes I wore were remarkably easy to walk in. Who knew such luxury existed—my feet sure didn’t. I made a mental note to swipe them when I made my getaway from the castle.
Cataline, Naevia, and the two guards followed behind me, Brunhilde taking the helm as she declared for the various castle servants tomake way, make way, make way!Not to my surprise, they did—scrambling to the sides of the hallway before Brunhilde could barrel them down. For a short woman, she packed a surprising amount of authority.
I tried to map the castle as we walked. The sooner I got a layout of this place, the sooner I could figure out how I was going to kill the king.
Kill the king . . . the words were harsh. I had never taken a life before—at least, not in this lifetime—and even though the king was a monster, I wondered what that would mean for me if I achieved what I had vowed to do. Would it change me?
After a long, seemingly never-ending stretch of corridor, we reached a grand, winding staircase, the steps gradually widened towards the bottom level. I could hear singing—a plethora of angelic voices melding beautifully with one another. I gathered my skirts once more and began my descent, the singing growing closer with each step.
When I reached the bottom, my foot landed softly against a luxurious, thick carpet that spread from wall to wall, trailing down the length of the monstrosity of a hallway that stretched in front me. At the end of it, massive twin doors were swung open, revealing not just a room, but an entirely different building attached to the castle—a temple.
From floor to ceiling, it was made of meticulously polished white stone—the stone itself reflecting small bits of light wherever the sun shone on it. The roof was supported by two rows of giant columns, the size of them similar to ancient oaks. It reminded me a great deal of the Temple of Light, however this building had walls, something the airy Temple of Light did not.
“Cataline will show you where you are to sit,” Brunhilde said, gesturing for me to walk through the giant doors.
I nodded and followed her in.
Rows upon rows of stone benches flagged each side, a sea of people dressed in their best attire filling them from end to end. I could not fathom how many people were here in attendance, but I suspected it was in the hundreds.
On the far end, a stretch of people stood upon a sprawling dais—the choir. They wore robes, the fabric a deep red, and each one of them exhibited straight, perfect posture, their blank expressions an injustice to the breathtaking sounds their voices crafted. Their sacred melody combined with the dancing colors shining through the stained windows was . . .magical.
I didn’t realize I was staring, not until I felt a tug on my gloved hand. I glanced down and Cataline’s wide eyes met mine—that was a first. She gestured to the open seat beside her. I blinked, realizing that while I stared at the choir, a good portion of the crowd was now staring at me. Quickly, I sat down on the stone bench, my movement less than graceful. My skirts were so thick that they puffed up in front of me, a mountain offabric practically blocking my view. I pressed them down. How ridiculous.
On the right side of the dais, three golden thrones proudly stood, their seats wrapped in lush, crimson-colored velvet. The middle one was the largest and grandest, a gilded sun positioned at the very top, its rays chiseled into deadly looking spikes, sharp enough to prick your finger.
All together, the choir cut out, allowing for one young girl to step forward and sing, her angelic voice amplified by the acoustics of the sprawling temple. After a few beautifully sung lines, the rest of the sopranos joined in, their combined voices raising the melody to new heights. The altos and tenors weaved in next, building on the mighty sound.
The hairs on the back of my neck raised—a standing ovation for their incredible melody.
An older woman wearing a simple white garb and a gold headpiece with a bright, glittering ruby stepped out onto the dais. Her hands were hidden behind wide, cascading sleeves that stretched all the way down to the floor. As she walked up to a marble podium, she chanted in a foreign tongue. The language sounded harsh, the words spoken as if she had to clear her throat with each one. Her chanting stopped and her hand thrust forward, gesturing towards the back of the room.
Instantly, everyone stood and turned to face the indicated direction as if this were a wedding and the bride was about to come down the aisle. I stood and turned as well, but I couldn’t see past the rows of people who were packed densely in front of me, shoulder to shoulder. The choir started to sing again, their resonating harmonies coaxing tiny bumps to pebble my skin.
And then, in perfect unison, everyone bowed their heads. Okay, everyone but me.Lightly, Cataline swatted me.I followed her lead and dipped my head—slightly.
Through the tops of my lashes, I watched a man and a woman walk by, dressed in the finest clothes I had ever seen—silks and furs and vibrant colors. I couldn’t even begin to fathom how much coin was spent on their attire. The man’s hand, decorated with gaudy rings, was held out in front of him, his palm facing down. The woman who walked beside him positioned her hand a mere inch directly over top of his, not enough to touch. Both of them wore wigs, but the one the woman wore was something else. There was so much fake hair piled on top of her head, it was a wonder her neck could withstand the weight.
Recalling a conversation I had with Arkyn, I knew that the queen had to wear a wig because she suffered from the pox. That meant that the man and woman walking down the aisle were most likely the king and queen. This came as no surprise, considering everyone was bowing.
My brows raised as I took one good hard look at the king—this was myfirsttime seeing him, other than on minted coins and in painted portraits, both of which portrayed a handsome king who lookednothinglike he did in person.
Despite the fine, luxurious clothing he wore and the carefully polished gold crown sitting upon his head, he wasjusta man—a man who had causednothingbut pain, suffering, anddevastation. I wondered what gave him the right to lead a kingdom. What gave him the right to take lives, to destroy families—to destroy mine.
He had no right.
A white-haired prince caught my attention, quickly snuffing out my thoughts surrounding the king. In their place, the memory of teeth embedded in my neck surfaced and a sickly feeling washed over me, leaving my skin clammy and my stomach uneasy. The corset of my dress suddenly felt much tighter.
If he had noticed that I was standing there, he didn’t let on. Instead, he kept his eyes fixed ahead as he walked behind the king and queen towards the dais. When they reached it, the king and queen parted, and the prince stepped between them.
As the three royals stood there, I realized that appearance-wise, the prince had absolutely nothing in common with his so-called parents. Physically, he was ethereal and enchanting, and they were nothing of the sort. I wondered if they were even related at all. Neither of his parents appeared to be divine—I felt almost certain of that.
Yet, he was a god. Undoubtedly.
I didn’t know a whole lot about how things worked with the gods, but I did know that the joining of humans did not produce one, no more than two cats could produce a lion.
Only the Creator could make the divine.
That meant the prince wasn’t actually their son.
