Page 4 of Hopeless Kingdom
The sound of the young soldier’s boots drifts off down the hall and I don’t realize we’ve stopped walking until Darrio’s hard body meets my chest. Slowly his attention drifts down to me and his gaze shifts warmly across my features. The light gray color of his eyes isn’t as hard-glaring as it was when we first met. They’re filled with a look of concern.
He should be fucking concerned.
My arms fold across my chest and I step back from him, my jaw set so tightly it hurts. I hold his stare until he’s forced to look away.
We stand before a wide, glossy door. King Tristan’s pale hand grips the gold handle and pushes it open. Walking inside, he holds it open for Darrio and me.
Pure calculation is all that thrums through my body. My eyes skim over every detail of the room; the tarnished locks that are in place on the high arching windows, the stain of dark smoke hides the outside world from my view. Books of every shape and size line the walls. A black carpet sits askew at the center of the room. A long, glossy table fills the area with two dozen chairs lining the sides. Several men and women talk quietly but I don’t linger on their faces and murmuring voices.
Because there, in the far corner, hidden among the shadows, is a suit of display armor. A knight’s armor stands proudly. It’s simply décor to these people. But to me, it’s what I’ve been searching for.
A weapon.
Held loosely and carelessly between the decorative knight’s metallic hands is a long, majestic sword.
It could be nothing; a minor detail among the grand scheme of things. Or it could be the very thing that takes King Tristan’s life.
“How nice of you to finally join us, Zakara.” A woman’s delicate voice pulls at my attention. My gaze shifts slowly from the promising sword and lands on the one who spoke my name.
Full red lips smile coyly at me while deep brown eyes gleam with hidden cruelty. The length of her chestnut hair is curled softly at the ends as if she’s an angelic dream woman who can’t possibly be real. A thinly wired crown gleams at her temple. The diamond at the center of it shines with pride even in the minimal light of the room.
My thoughts assess everything about her.
She’s beautiful.
She’s regal.
She’s the queen.
“My Queen,” Tristan says in a hushed tone as he places a quick kiss against her cheek. She leans into that small fraction of affection. She practically glows from it.
Tristan takes a seat at the head of the table, his attention falling to me once more. A seriousness moves across his features. A soft ticking sound trails through the room and my gaze follows a small dog with coarse gray hair. Tiny legs carry its wide little body over to the king, and he sweeps the animal up into his arms.
It’s the first time I’ve really looked at the king in the hazy light.
It’s hard to believe Ryder and Tristan share blood. Nothing about them is remotely similar and yet, they have the same father.
Inky black locks are pushed back from his face. A carefully groomed amount of facial hair lines his upper lip and chin and curves the sharp edges of his jaw. Wicked power shines in his emerald eyes.
“I would have joined you sooner, but I was a little … detained.” Confidence stiffens my spine.
Laughter rumbles through the room. It’s a light and familiar sound that tingles across my skin.
My attention falls to the sound of his humming amusement.
Daxdyn Riles looks to me with a smile that melts me.
I hate how his uninvited happiness sinks right into me.
Fucking empath powers.
A light bruise shadows the bridge of his nose. It isn’t awful looking. It certainly doesn’t take away from his strong and attractive features.
Why do I suddenly feel guilty for hurting him? I shove the churning feeling aside.
The gray in Daxdyn’s eyes looks different. His happiness still shines within them, but sadness emits from just beneath the surface. That look sinks into me, and he shifts in his wooden chair until he’s staring down at his hands that he holds atop the glossy table. He’s seated at the end, the farthest away from the king and queen, but closest to me.
Darrio stands to my right, not leaving my side. The warmth of him seems to radiate into me, making me abundantly aware of his strong presence.
