Page 35 of Awakened Destiny
"Where's the Queen?" I ask.
The maid bows her head.“In the hall, your highness.”
I start toward the grand hall, weaving through the busyness. Courtiers whisper as I pass, their eyes hungry. Vultures, the lot of them.
My steps falter as I near, never sure what state of mind my mother will be in. It’s been like that since I was very young and I’ve never known her any other way. There’s a reason I avoid this place like the plague. I wouldn’t be here now if I didn’t have to be.
I'm not ready to be king. But I can't abandon the kingdom to the sharks that are circling, either.
With a steadying breath, I push open the ornate doors.
The grand hall hits me like a punch to the gut. Fuck, I'd forgotten how overwhelming this place can be. Gilded arches soar overhead, dripping with jewels that catch the light from a thousand glittering chandeliers. It's beautiful, sure, but cold as ice. Nothing like the warmth of the suite I have at the academy.
Memories flood back - standing here as a kid, desperately seeking a scrap of affection from my father. All I ever got was a cold stare and cutting words.
"Prince Callen!" A portly courtier waddles over, his face flushed. "What an unexpected pleasure. We'd heard whispers you might grace us with your presence."
I plaster on a charming smile. "Wouldn't miss my father's funeral for all the world."
The sarcasm flies right over his head. He beams, nodding vigorously. "Of course, of course. Such a tragedy. But fear not, the Council stands ready to assist us in this difficult transition."
Yeah, I bet they are.
I scan the crowd, searching for any allies. But there's only a sea of painted faces and predatory eyes. Everyone's moving with frantic energy, preparing for the spectacle of King Cillian’s final farewell.
A servant rushes by, carrying bolts of exquisitely woven black silk. I wonder where they are holding his body. If the crown still sits on his head.
My stomach churns. That crown—the very reason I’m here.
"If you'll excuse me," I mutter to the courtier. "I need to see my mother."
I push through the throng, their whispers following me like snakes.
A group scurries past, arms laden with garlands of purple and black roses. Their eyes dart to me, then quickly away.
A tall, willowy fae with silver hair glides up to me. "My prince," she coos, dipping into a low curtsy. "How wonderful to see you! We've missed your presence at court."
I recognize her. One of my father's many mistresses. The poison in her voice is barely concealed.
"I'm sure you have," I drawl. "Though I can't say the feeling's mutual."
Her eyes narrow. "You know, your father always said you lacked the backbone for leadership. I do hope he was mistaken."
I lean in close, dropping my voice. "Oh, I've got plenty of backbone. And teeth. You'd do well to remember that."
She blanches and hurries away. Fucking hyenas, all of them.
I continue on, searching for my mother. The ostentatious luxury of the palace is endless. Gold leaf on every surface, tables laden with extravagant delicacies, exotic flowers that have no business blooming this time of year. So beautiful, yet so devoid of any sincerity.
All I can think of is how empty and cold it felt growing up here. No warmth. No love. Just duty and expectations.
Now I will have to rule over all this. To become the very thing I've spent my life running from.
Brigid's face flashes in my mind. Her smile, her strength. For a moment, all I want is to be back at the academy with her.
But I can't think about that now. I've got a kingdom to claim and a Council to outmaneuver.
I spot her at last, sitting on the dais at the far end of the hall. My mother, Queen Maywen, looks smaller than I remember. Her dark hair is pinned back, but strands of it fall loose, unkempt. Her pale eyes are fixed on something distant, something only she can see. She’s dressed in white, in a beautiful garment, but the gown hangs off her thin frame like it’s borrowed from someone else.
