Page 48 of Cages and Crowns
She pulls at the laces, and I gasp as the corset squeezes my ribs. I force myself to take short, slow breaths as she ties the corset as tight as it will possibly go. Another skirt is wrapped around my waist and tied into place. I can barely breathe and barely move, but that’s the norm around here.
“Why is he coming today of all days, Estelle?” I ask as I collapse into the vanity chair, the skirts poofing up and nearly covering my face. I slam them back down into my lap with a sigh.
“He wants to pay his respects to your mother.” I wince as she rips thebrush from my hair. “Gods, child. You slept in too long, and I don’t know what I am going to do with this hair!” She scowls at me in the mirror, and I smile back at her, my dimples coming through my round cheeks. Her face softens as she stares at me. “All will be well, princess.” I nod and she squeezes my shoulders before gathering my hair up in a braided coronet.
Once I am readied, I am shoved out of my room, the giant dress feeling like a weight as I drag it across the stone floors.
“Where are the others?” I ask Estelle as she guides me down the hallway.
“They have been asked to stay out of the palace today.”
“Why?” I press as we descend.
“I am unsure, it was a request of your father’s.” I frown at her as we reach the bottom floor. Flowers overflow from the vase at the entry table, the doors open to show a particularly nice summer day. Estelle’s grip is firm as she pulls me into the throne room.
My father’s gaze instantly hardens as he stares at me. His chestnut eyes seem black from this distance, his skin pale. He looks tired. I bow slightly before racing up the dais to take my place behind his throne.
“Once again you are late, Elaenor.” He sneers at me over his shoulder. His green cloak with a silver collar is flowing over the armrests of the stone throne. Vines made of silver cord spread from his shoulders down, sparkling in the light filtering in from the windows. His crown is off-center, and I reach froward to straighten it. He looks over and his eyes soften just a hair before I clamp my hands back in front of me.
“I apologize, father.” I reply. Silence ensues as we listen to the horses coming up the long drive. Gravel crunches under heavy-footed boots before turning into an echoing slap of leather on stone. My breath hitches as the king steps through the doors.
His hair is a beautiful golden color, his eyes so blue they glow across the vast room. His cloak is a deep blood red, his tunic underneath a silky black, matching his trousers and knee-high leather boots. He has a huge blade strappedto his hip, the tip nearly brushing the floor. He has a smirk plastered to his lips as he crosses the distance. He doesn’t stop and bow like one should, instead he climbs the dais and stops directly in front of my father.
“Viktor, it has been too long.” King Evreux says in a voice that sounds like nails on stone. My father stands and offers his hand to him. Their heights are parallel, standing over six feet tall. I can see anger in their eyes, mirroring each other. They could be twins if it weren’t for the differences in hair and eyes. The king steps away from my father and looks at me.
“Princess. You grow even more beautiful as the years pass.” He reaches for my hand, and I hesitantly place my fingers in his palm. He leans down and kisses the top of my hand, his eyes never leaving mine. Hot breath fans across my arm and I shiver.
“Your Grace, your compliment is appreciated.” I reply before curtsying slightly. He smiles and releases me.
“I would like to visit her.” He says, and I know he means my mother.
“I will escort you—”
“No. Elaenor will do it.” He glances back at me. “Isn’t that right?”
“It would be my honor.” I reply, bowing my head slightly. I swallow the lump in my throat and take his outstretched arm. I guide him through the doors and down the hallway to the stairs that lead down. I pause, hesitant to descend, but his grip on my arm pulls me forward.
He’s silent as we enter the underground tomb beneath the mountain palace. Torches line the walls, illuminating stone coffins and statues filling the space. All of the Pinewell’s are buried here, however I won’t be. I’ll be buried in Noterra someday.
We walk over to the very back wall where a stone carving of my mother sits next to a large stone coffin. Tears prick my eyes and I glance away, focusing on the orange lights dancing along the gray stone.
“My son asks about you often. He wonders when you will be coming to stay?” The king asks as he releases my arm. I clamp my hands together in front ofme.
“Whenever my father allows, I will be honored to live in your beautiful country.” I reply softly, keeping my eyes downcast.
“You would, wouldn’t you?” He snorts. “Tell me, child, are you happy here?”
“My father is a kind and gracious king. His kingdom brings me much happiness—”
“Do you say everything as if it’s rehearsed?” He responds, turning away from me. His hand lifts before his fingers gently brush the stone version of my mother’s cheek.
“I apologize, Your Grace.”
“Your mother was a wonderful woman. Bright, untamed, erratic. She reminded me of freedom, of youth. Your father took that from her. He turned her into a scared and quiet queen who feared for her life. Sending her to him was my greatest regret.” I stay quiet. Sending her to him? Is he the reason my parents married?
He sighs and steps up to the coffin, resting his hand atop it.
“You look just like her, Elaenor. I hope that you will be to Tobias what Sybil should have been to me.”
