Page 34 of Vow of the Undead
My throat tightened at the sight of animal masks. Executioners joined the guards as they pulled my father and I through the crowd.
People parted for the Grimward, like the clouds separating after a rainstorm. Mara’s villagers spread apart just enough to let us pass. They pushed forward in our wake and I was pleasantly surprised that the king allowed for commoners to trample the halls of his castle. Of course, it was far vaster than a Vyl’s home, with plenty of room for visitors, but it seemed the entire crowd had their sights set on a single destination, leaving the other halls empty.
Bodies pressed in around me as I finally crossed the castle’s threshold and the people of Mara’s Keep scrambled for a glimpse of the king. Inside was a maze of stone. We followed the narrow halls to the throne room.
This castle wasn’t built to invite the kingdom’s subjects inside all at once, but with the arrival of the northernmost village in Vylheim, the king had opened his doors for all to come. I could only hope it wasn’t to come witness my beheading.
I kept my eyes to the ground with the hood of my cloak draped over my head as servants guided us into the castle along with the rest of the visitors from Skaldir seeking alliance with the king.
“Silver.” A man’s voice rolled my name over his tongue and my skin prickled like it had when Sten came up behind me. I glanced back at my father, knowing it wasn’t him. He rarely called me Silver and opted to address me simply as ‘daughter’ instead. Who else here knew to call me by this name?
My gaze swept over the crowd.
A figure in a dark green cloak pushed through the throng of bodies. Two men spoke to one another on my left, one ofthem with flashing red eyes. Blood rushed through my ears with every erratic beat of my pulse. I blinked and, though he still raked his gaze over me, hungry captivation darkened his brown eyes, making the red fade away.
The figure’s mouth, partially obscured by shadow, formed around the shape of my name again. I didn’t know if I heard him say it or only understood it by the movement of his lips.
“Keep moving,” my father barked, ripping my attention away from the strange man. “We need to meet with the king before he changes his damn mind.”
I blinked and looked ahead of me again.
With frayed nerves, I forced one foot in front of the other. Every step I took was a step deeper into the royal court, from which I’d stolen two lives. The flash of the figure’s red eyes brought my mind back to them and held my thoughts hostage.
Shadows had lurked around me as a child and that same sinister energy crawled at my back now. The feeling of my flesh turning inside out was as familiar as the ghost of Astrid’s hold and Sten suggesting he wanted to taste me.
Though I was terrified that maybe monsters had tracked me my entire life, it was the courtiers who finally captured me.
Either way, the energy felt the same, and I wanted to strip it off like a dress soaked in lye.
A foot caught the hem of my cloak, and my heart stuttered. I yanked the fabric but it wouldn’t budge. My father pushed me forward and the force tugged the cloak off my head and shoulders. I yelped and clutched the fabric in my fists, snapping my eyes to the culprit. The same man, shrouded in the shadow of his own hood, glared at me with golden eyes.
As every muscle in my body froze as my father growled something about my weak countenance.
The man’s lips parted, and he shoved in closer, taking the second before my father pushed me forward to whisper a warning. “Don’t go in there. Come with me.”
My father ignored him like he had with every other shadow who’d lurked outside my window or followed my footsteps. He simply jerked past the figure, and the flow of the crowd pressed us forward, swallowing the shadow at my heels.
Finally, I yanked my dress from beneath his boot and allowed my father to nudge me forward.
Excitement buzzed through the people of Mara as alive as the unease swimming in my gut.
The golden-eyed man could have been one of my captors, had they survived my attack. Did he want to devour me like Astrid? My blood went cold as a shudder rippled through me with the memory of her words. The memory that had haunted me with every shape I caught sight of in the woods during our journey to Mara’s Keep.
Don’t go in there.Could this message be a warning that King Drakkar had decided to execute me after all? The second half begged to differ. This shadow wanted me to come with him, just like Astrid and Sten.
We spilled into the vast throne room where the ceiling stretched into the sky with a massive arch, and the open space allowed me to suck in a breath that was cut short when I felt someone watching me.
I flicked my gaze from the candles flickering across dozens of hanging candelabras to the throne. King Drakkar stood, keeping his sharp eye fixated directly on me. His other eye had been fastened with a leather eye patch, a blot of smooth black covering one side of his skull. Two council members flanked his throne, Ylva and Darius.
My throat tightened. Was I marching to my execution?
Didn’t I deserve it? But I was so close to Freya’s trial, to reaching the opportunity to follow the king’s blood to the answers I craved.
When his mouth cut into a charming smile that split sideways across his face, I drew another breath, this one shallow. All I could do was move forward. I’d made my decision. In adaze, I floated to the throne with my father at my heels and dropped into a respectful curtsy, with my head tucked, my knees on the cold stone floor, and my copper skirts splayed around me.
Conversations fell silent, and the only sound echoing through the throne room was the approach of footsteps. My heartbeat doubled as a shadow stretched over me.
The king crouched in front of me and, with his thumb and forefinger, lifted my chin.
