Page 93 of Reign of Light
But it’s empty.
“Move!” Brynne snaps, and strides down the hall. The guards shove Weston forward until we’re standing side by side, our bound hands in front of us. We fall into step behind her, and the footfalls from the group of guards echo in our wake.
“Don’t do anything stupid,” I grumble to Weston, and he only grunts in response. After admitting to me last night that he made a mistake showing his devotion to me, it’s clear he didn’t learn from it, or make any changes, and we can’t make anything worse. We need to figure out how to get the upper hand.
“What do you expect me to do, nothing?” he growls.
“Stop talking!” Guthrie yells, and shoves Weston’s back from behind.
The silence is thick, marred only by our footsteps echoing off the cold stone walls as we walk deeper into the castle. Movement catches my eye, and I glance at the wall to find two of the older guards, ones I don’t know well, but I’ve seen around for years. Ones that would surely recognize me.
Their eyes widen as their gazes jump from me to Weston and back again, their lips forming a line as they take in the manacles at our wrists and the guards following us closely. Their expressions betray nothing of what is going on in their minds, not an ounce of recognition of me, or him, or the scene unfolding before them. The already deep pit in my stomach sinks even further.
Was no one truly ever sincere when they swore their oaths? Was Weston the only one who cared so deeply about his duty? How could we have never noticed? Everyone in the castle seemed happy, taken care of. There were never complaints, fair wages, offered housing and accommodations. The staff and guards chose to be here. No one was ever forced, and despite my father treating me poorly and unfairly, he never seemed to do the same with his people.
Why would they all turn on us?
“At least the sky is clear today,” Weston says suddenly, breaking me from my worries as his voice carries through the silent hallway.
I glance up at him, confused, when one guard behind us scoffs.
“How hard did you hit him?” he says with a laugh. “Sounds like you knocked some sense out of him, instead of into him.” There’s a chorus of snickers, and concern pushes my anger out of the way.
“Are you all right?” I whisper, trying to keep everything I’m feeling out of my voice. I know if he hears it, he will do even more to keep all the wrath of Brynne and the guards away from me, and directed at him. I can’t let that happen. I can’t watch them harm him, just for me.
My head swivels toward the wall of windows to our right, the overcast grey skies that blanket the kingdom the same as they are every day, then back to his stoic face. He doesn’t answer, only keeps his eyesfixed straight ahead, as trails of blood continue to flow down his face, drawing my attention to his clenched jaw.
Weston would never ignore me. What is going on?
Brynne leads us around a corner, and the back of my neck prickles. I know exactly where we are going, but I have no idea what is in store for us.
Just ahead are the thick, black, wooden doors I last stormed out of after my ceremony, and I haven’t been behind them since. For a time, I didn’t think I ever would again. It’s clear now, that worry did not come true.
Because now, we’re headed straight for the throne room.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
The last time I walked into this throne room, I was alone, as the future queen of Blackwood, with no hope for the life that was already planned and decided for me.
Now, I’m a prisoner, standing beside the man I love, with no idea of what is going to meet us on the other side of that door.
The carved black wood looms over us, parting down the middle as Brynne flattens her hands on the surface and pushes them open. One guard shoves me from behind, and I catch myself before I stumble over the threshold and into the empty room. Brynne strides down the aisle, her head held high, as Weston and I make our way across the black carpet behind her.
My focus stays locked on her back as I try to figure out not only what her plan is but also scramble to come up with one of my own. With both of our hands bound, and my one and only means of protection already in her possession, I’m failing miserably. There’s no lesson I can recall that prepared me for this.
Looking back, it seems so similar to how I was taken by the Castaways, hands bound and thrown in a cell, but back then, I was locked up in a cage of my own making. They never intended to harm me. Their only goal was to get me to be comfortable enough that I would eventually understand their side.
Dane has already proven he will harm me, and Weston never looked at me with the malice that Brynne now does. Deep in my gut, I don’t feel that anything I tried before will help me now, and beneath my anger there’s a new sinking sense of dread forming that we may not escape this.
“Halt at the foot of the steps,” Brynne commands over her shoulder, just before she steps to the side, in the same place she stood for my ceremony so long ago.
I suck in a ragged breath when the dais comes into view, and I realize I was wrong.
The room isn’t empty.
Dane sits on my father’s throne,mythrone, his body slouched, his ankle crossed over his knee with a bored look on his face as his chin rests in his propped up hand.
“Well, well, well.” One corner of his lips turns up in a sly smirk as we stop before him, and his eyes flicker to the guards before falling back to us. “When they said a man and a woman arrived claiming to be the princess and the First Guard, I didn’t believe them. They had to be mistaken. The princess and the First Guard had no way of being here. I made sure of it. That is, until they brought me this.”
