Page 90 of Of Realms and Chaos

“One guard accidentally fell out of the carriage, and I stand by that statement.” Trint looked at me with knowing eyes, his lids half closed and lips pursed. After about five seconds, I broke. “He said the tops looked like shriveled grapes!”

At that, Henry burst into laughter. Farai, to his credit, did not get angry or judge me. In fact, he had seemed ready to shove the man, too, after Henry translated between chuckles.

Trint was acting as if there were not skeletons crawling up the walls. They worshiped the God of Death and Creation for fucks sake. When Trint did not look away, staring at me like he was prepared to wait here for as long as it took, I rolled my eyes and nodded. The king flashed a brilliant smile and proceeded to pull open the doors.

The guards behind us spread out, only a handful following. It did not surprise me that they were both confident I could take on any danger and terrified I was the danger. From the corner of my eye, I saw the guard that I had ordered to jump from the carriage cringe away from me, his face still bruised.

He deserved it.

We walked through the doors, stepping into a large entryway that opened to reveal the ceiling above. From below, we could see the light of midday shining through the painted glass windows. Colors rained down from the images depicted upon the skylights, stories of what I assumed were the gods’ lives stretching throughout the ceiling.

Just like the outside, the inside of the temple was a vibrant violet, bits of gold and black creating swirls and runes across the walls. I dropped Farai’s hand, letting my eyes wander greedily. It was strange going from never leaving The Capital to traveling the world. I had dreamt of this, getting to be free. Yet it did not feel like freedom. No, this felt like the final act of a book without a happy ending. Every day was another grain of sand falling in the hourglass of my life. I could feel it, that odd sense of impending doom.

“Keep up. We are running behind, and you need to get ready.” Whipping my head around, I faced the pompous king, who had already begun walking down a long hallway.

With a loud groan, I sped up, reaching his side. He had gone from flirtatious to terrified to an odd animosity, but none of those things had outshone his curious nature. Entering his mind, I found that very wonder running rampant on his thoughts. Before anything else, Trint had a desire to learn.

Tell me, King Trint, does my appearance not satisfy you?

He flinched, just as he always did, glaring at me after a moment of heavy breathing. My answering smile was wide, showing enough teeth to be more of a threat than a reassurance.

Asher from months ago would have been horrified to know that I no longer cared about scaring people—that I reveled in it instead. Odd that the death of who I was did not hurt me now, like it had at first. Maybe I had unknowingly buried her, laying to rest that naïve and hopeful soul that was beaten and belittled into submission. The one who would have cowered at the thought of killing when not ordered to do so and recoiled at the use of her power.

Once, I would have been appalled by myself, and I inwardly wondered when I had decided not to be anymore.

“I wish you would stop that. I can hear perfectly fine.” My laugh was not in response to his words, but to his thoughts, which strayed to me and what I could do if I sat on a throne beside him. Just as so many before him had done.

Everyone loves to imagine using me like a caged animal for their own benefit, but you all seem to forget that beasts bite when cornered. Instead of picturing what good I could do for you with your ring on my finger, you should fear how insignificant you would be if your crown was on my head.

His interest simmered into anger, the threat landing perfectly in that spot of his mind where insecurity and paranoia resided. Not only did I shut down his plotting, but I reminded him of the scheme he had already vowed to follow through with.

Bellamy had been surprised he agreed at all. The first note he sent me after Trint simply said, “That is the last time I doubt you, beautiful creature.” Beyond that, Bellamy mostly used the notes to openly flirt with me. Once, he had sent a note that had suggested fairly provocative activities, but when it returned to me, Farai snatched it from the air.

“Whipped cream? Really? Does he have no shame?” the Shifter had asked, scoffing as he tossed me the paper and pencil.

To be honest, he was not wrong. Bellamy had very little shame. He would go from sending me explicit messages about licking chocolate off my breasts to discussing strategy with Henry on the same page. Like it did not matter who saw what he said—what he promised.

Trint’s harsh words jerked me out of my thoughts as he said, “You look like you have not seen a comb in years, and you have circles below your eyes that are so dark it almost appears you were in a fight. You have ripped your lips to shreds, leaving them chapped and bleeding. Even worse, I have watched you wipe your hands on your robes—which were expensive—leaving sweat spots on them. At the moment, lovely princess, you are leagues away from the divine creature you are hoping to portray.”

My mind was reeling with retorts as I decided if his words held merit—they did. Before I could break free of my stunned daze, Trint’s hand grabbed my forearm and pulled me down a hallway to the left. There was another set of double doors at the end, looking as if it held importance in a way that only something tucked away like that could.

Instead of whisking me away to whatever lay beyond those, he quickly opened an unimpressive door to the side, practically shoving me inside of the tiny room. It was mostly empty, holding only a set of purple couches with a wooden table in the center of them. A fire roared to life on the far right wall, setting the lush golden rug stretched around the seating area aglow. The color had become easier and easier to look at the more I came across it, this particular instance not affecting me much at all. Only a short, quick tightening of my chest. So different than the panic that overtook me at the mere thought of a golden dress upon my skin.

A woman was waiting behind the smaller sofa, her face stoic as she took me in. I returned the gaze, noting her beautiful midnight skin, the brown of her eyes reminding me of liquid chocolate. She wore a thick purple dress with a white apron secured around her waist and had her graying hair in dozens of small braids. When the door finally clicked behind us, Farai, Henry, and Wrath filing in, she bent down, disappearing behind the sofa. A rustling noise sounded, followed by loud clinking that made me nervous for whatever she was planning.

It was not until she started setting products down on the wooden table that I realized what they were trying to do. “I do not need some weird makeover. Can we not simply let my magic speak for itself?”

Trint scoffed, pointing to the small couch with raised brows. Hesitating, I watched the mortal woman for a moment longer, noting the various cosmetics and lotions. What would it hurt to placate them in this?

With a heavy sigh of defeat, I made my way to her, sitting down and preparing myself. She eyed me, scrutinizing every inch of me from my head to my toes, looking horribly displeased by the end of her assessment. Trint moved to the larger sofa, plopping down ungracefully. Contrary to his title, Trint seemed to enjoy the comfort of unimportance. Producing a small flask, the king leaned his head back and closed his eyes before taking a large gulp.

“Now, you three need to leave. Find something more exciting to do, like cleaning chamber pots or licking your paw.” It was a casual dismissal, the animosity not nearly as tangible in his tone or posture as it was in his words.

All three of them looked poised to argue, Wrath going so far as to grow and hiss, but I quickly cleared my throat to get their attention. “It is fine. I can handle myself. Go ask around for information on any other creatures that may be nearby.”

After a moment, Henry groaned, offering Trint one final glare before he walked out. Farai’s concerned frown warmed my heart, giving me the confidence to smile his way and wave my hand at him to tell him to go. He nodded, ushering Wrath out too. Then it was only Trint, the woman, and I, the king relaxing into the sofa like he had been through a great ordeal.

“I hate socks,” he muttered. I almost laughed at the ridiculousness of the statement. As if he could sense my amusement, he leveled me with a glare.

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