Page 114 of Between Wrath and Mercy

“I will be quite upset if you lose that.” He gifted me a crooked smile before he promised he would guard it preciously.

Lavenia and Dewalt had left the room already, and I took in my surroundings. The bedchamber was enormous and yet confining with no windows and little light. Everything but the furniture and door was made of cool, grey stone, and there was a draft that made me shudder. It was much more primitive than I expected, especially in comparison to Rainier’s estate. Tapestries hung on two of the walls, older than I could imagine. The furniture seemed newer, at least—a four-poster bed with drawn curtains sat against one of the walls while a small, delicately upholstered bench rested at its foot. I supposed the curtains were to keep the draft at bay, and I knew I'd be more appreciative eventually, but for now, I found them confining.

“I think I’d prefer your estate.” I took the arm he offered, and he chuckled.

“This is the oldest wing of the palace. I am rarely here, so why waste the finer rooms on me?”

Thethroneroomwasnot what I expected. It was round, for one thing. The only light filtered down from the giant glass dome above us, letting in the rapidly diminishing glow of the setting sun. Behind the thrones was a morose assemblage of headless statues, each a likeness of someone the Vestana bloodline was proud to have slain. Long fabric hung in strips from the tall ceiling, shrouding the figures in a dark cloud of shadow and silk brocade. Growing up, Nana had told us stories of King Soren and his father, King Alric, who had passed his aggressive vindictiveness down to his son. I assumed most of the likenesses belonged to Folterran royalty, and I was momentarily distracted by the singular female figure standing to the left of Soren.

She was slight—much thinner and shorter than the surrounding effigies. Less detailed than those around her, it appeared she'd been sculpted hastily, and I wondered why. Though plain, wearing only an unadorned dress with no added texture, she appeared new compared to the others. An addition from Soren and not his father, I presumed.

Larke. His first wife.

I wondered what she looked like, the headless statue offering little to my imagination.

Pulled out of my reverie by a cough from Dewalt, I continued my visual exploration, indulging in the first sight of a room not widely accessible. To either side of the dais were two rows each of chairs belonging to members of the council and higher-ranking members of the court, empty because Rainier requested an informal meeting. They faced inwards, ensuring the councilors' place in their monarch's line of sight.

What surprised me most was the location of the thrones. The dais was not elevated as I'd imagined but instead sat recessed into the ground in the center of the room. We entered on a wide staircase that led downward, and I shuddered when I remembered Nana's stories explaining the peculiar arrangement.

Alric's divinity was similar to Rainier's—organic manipulation—though he used it in more brutal ways than one could imagine. It was said that the king used the recessed area as punishment for those who spoke against him, drowning would-be apostates in boiling water, heated by flames he'd conjure from above, all while he sat in an air pocket on his throne and watched. Though I knew he'd never do such a thing, I was grateful Rainier didn't inherit the gift of flame.

The four of us stood on the steps, waiting to be called upon. I watched Dewalt next to me out of the corner of my eye, following his lead the best I could, knowing my expectations would be more similar to his than that of Lavenia and Rainier. I swept into a curtsy when the time came and kept my head down, hands tightly clasped in front of me to keep them from shaking. At one point, I felt Rainier shift on my other side, and I hoped he was about to reach out and comfort me, but I saw his fist clench instead as if he was holding himself back. I only looked up when King Soren began to speak, his voice much frailer than I remembered yet equally cold. His skin was pale, almost translucent, and sallow. His presence was as equally haggard as his voice. His hair was white as snow and ragged, and the crown which sat atop his head seemed heavy enough to break his neck. Those beautiful, emerald eyes I loved appeared dark and cruel set in his scrunched face.

“It is a rare day when our son chooses to grace us with his presence, is it not, Shivani?” He wheezed, and it seemed as if it took a significant amount of effort to speak.

“It is. And with another Highclere girl, no less. Likely intent on ruining all chances of his performing the ritual, I bet.” I blinked, and my jaw dropped. That was not what I had anticipated in the slightest. The queen was beautiful—her hair pulled back tightly to the crown of her head where it burst into soft, springy curls resting on her shoulders. She didn’t wear a crown but a diadem instead, the thin band crossing over her forehead. Considering she only performed the ritual with King Soren in the last two hundred years, she didn't look much older than her son. Her umber skin was still smooth with only a small amount of crow's feet at her eyes. Her dark hair was going grey at her temples, but it only accentuated her regal demeanor. Lavenia took after her mother, but where my friend’s face had kindness and humor, Shivani's held a shrewd cunning designed to intimidate. I felt both men on either side of me tense, and I swallowed as Rainier plastered on a charming, confident smile that managed to put me at ease.

“I’m sure Lady Emmeline will forgive your harsh words, Mother, as it must be a shock to see us on short notice. Father, did you receive my message?” The king grunted in assent. “So, you know our presence is of great importance, not to be confused with such a trivial matter as my performing the ritual.”

Queen Shivani was the one who replied, disdain evident on her face. “And yet, we’ve been told Princess Keeva is leaving the capital, counter to our insistence that she stay. Her chambers are being cleared out as we speak.” The queen gestured past us with a flick of her wrist. I wondered if she was who we needed to convince more than King Soren; she was the more imposing of the two of them by far. “Lavenia, I would hope you are prepared for your brother to fail, but somehow I do not think you are.” She tilted her head and narrowed her eyes at her daughter, scanning her from head to toe before turning her attention to me, a more thoughtful look on her face as she gave me the same treatment. Her eyes didn’t leave me as she addressed her son.

“I understand you’re here to request assistance to retrieve the Beloved, Rainier. Is there a reason you saw fit to bring your plaything?” A low warning growl sounded from Dewalt as Rainier moved, taking the steps two at a time as he approached his mother. I remembered Rainier’s words from before—to give back what I received in kind—and I cleared my throat.

“Your Majesty, may I?” Queen Shivani raised an elegant brow and afforded me a brief nod as Rainier froze, turning to glare at me over his shoulder, a warning written across his face. My hands were loose at my sides, and I resisted the urge to clench them.

“Respectfully, if you know why we are here, you also know the Beloved is my daughter. To feign the belief that I am present as no more than a plaything does both your children and your role as their mother a disservice. I assure you, I have no interest in impeding Prince Rainier’s ritual, and in fact, protested his intended dismissal of Princess Keeva. You know why I am here, just as you would be if our roles were reversed. I hope we can come to a mutual respect, as you are the only person in this room who can understand precisely what I am going through.”

She pondered me for a moment, moving her tongue behind her lip in a gesture reminding me so much of her son, it was unsettling. I let out a slow, unsteady breath and refused to make eye contact with Rainier. I could feel him watching me, but my show of bravado would be for nothing if I burst into tears at the sight of him. I watched Queen Shivani’s mouth tighten, but I swore I saw her eyes soften before she spoke.

“There is the manner in which you effectively disappeared once your sister died and are now claiming your child is the Beloved with no evidence.” The tone of her voice was softer but still had an edge to it. It hadn’t even crossed my mind that there was a possibility for doubt.

“Her powers are identical to that of Lucia’s, stronger even.”

“So you say.” I was surprised to hear King Soren’s voice interject.

“Why would Folterra have any interest in her if I were lying?” I saw the queen’s eyes flicker to Rainier, and I wondered for a moment just how forthcoming he used to be with his mother. Did she think Folterra would be interested in Elora as a means to get to me, specifically to hurt Rainier? It was improbable, considering how discreet our short-lived romance had been. Surely, if Folterra wanted to get to Rainier, Faxon would have arranged for me to be taken instead of our daughter. And even then, it would make little sense.

“It could be a falsehood designed to lure us into an attack.” King Soren grumbled and trailed off. I couldn’t help it as my head tilted to the side. The old man was paranoid. Did he think I’d lie about my daughter and willingly give her up to start a war with Folterra? For what purpose? I knew my father blamed King Soren, and I was devastated when Lucia died, but what an insane leap in logic to think I'd help start a war over it.

“My spies have confirmed Prince Cyran has her. There would be no reason for them to take such care of a frightened child unless she was of great significance.” Rainier’s voice was loud, and since he was getting visibly frustrated, I chose to ignore the insinuation that my daughter’s significance came only from her divinity. I knew his heart, but I made a mental note to speak about it to him later. Her importance had nothing to do with her status as the Beloved.

“My son will remember I have spies as well. The girl is no child; she is nearly of age, and I can think of one reason a young prince might want her.” As the king spoke, Queen Shivani snapped her head in his direction, a look of warning on her face not dissimilar to the one her son gave me moments ago. I took a steadying breath, willing ice to flow through my veins to staunch the fire smoldering underneath my skin. I watched Rainier’s fists clench and felt Dewalt’s arm brush against mine as he took a step toward me. Protective of me or what I might do, I wasn’t sure, but I focused on where my arm touched his. A pinpoint of concentration anchoring me in place.

“Father—” Lavenia’s anger was clear, and I didn’t want the aggressive energy in the room to continue, so I attempted to cut it off.

“Then your spies will have seen that she is chained in obsidian when she is let out of her chambers.” It was a bluff, and the only reaction I received from my lie was Rainier’s shift in posture. A vision of Elora’s wrists in the illusion had flashed before my eyes, the faintest red marks apparent. Rainier’s spies hadn’t yet found Prince Cyran, and I was surprised King Soren had succeeded where they had not. Our information was collected from my illusions and the very first visit the shifters made to Darkhold. I had no idea if they still kept her chained in obsidian, but I didn’t think sharing Prince Cyran’s cooperation was a better plan. Nor did Rainier, or he’d have mentioned it already. It was clear his father was slipping into a deeper paranoia than I thought possible.

“Yes, she was. Until recently. Until she began to exercise her divinity with the dark prince.” My heart sank, knowing it was a confirmation to him that Elora played a role in a plot against him. We would have to explain Prince Cyran’s involvement and hope to the gods the king understood. “I do believe she could have been the Beloved. But by practicing with the dark prince, I think, instead, she is more likely cursed. She has already become a threat, and I issued an order less than an hour ago to handle the problem.”

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