Page 56 of King of Lies
The castle walls and iron gates loom up the cliffs and in the distance. The car steadily takes the climb to our destination. Speeding up this winding path would be not just dangerous, but deadly for us all, and Rhys is now the king. He has to be protected at all costs.
The heavy gates swing open as we approach and the castle looms ahead, dark and menacing. I can’t explain it, but it doesn’t feel right here anymore. It feels like I’m trapped in a vampire movie or something.
I shake off the feeling of foreboding as best as I can. I’ve never had a gut instinct quite like this before. Maybe once when I was small … I don’t really know. I have this recurring dream from time to time that I’m begging my mom to take me with them on their next adventure. They’re leaving, bags packed and saying goodbye to me at my uncles’ house.
I don’t want them to leave me. I want to go with them and I’m promising that I’ll be good. I won’t be any trouble for them at all. I dream that my mom smiles sadly and tells me that, where they’re going, I can’t come with.
And then they’re gone.
Whether that really happened or it’s just the dream manifestations of childhood traumas, I don’t know. But the feeling that I have when I wake up from that dream is the feeling I have now.
The car pulls around back to a secret entrance instead of the one out front. I frown and wonder where we’re going. My confusion must show on my face because Rhys answers quietly, “We can’t be seen now. This is officially a period of National Mourning and we are in plain clothes, and so are Leo and Harold. We must go in quietly and change.”
“Okay.”
“I’m afraid I’m going to have to leave you when we go inside. There is much to be done,” he says quietly.
“It’s all right.”
He doesn’t speak further, only squeezing my hand again before letting it go and placing both of his folded in his lap. The car comes to a stop and Leo opens our door. Rhys slides out and I follow him. We walk through a dark hall that lets out into the private family residence of the castle.
Suddenly, the queen is there, flying down the hallway to collide with Rhys. I don’t know how she does it, but she seems to knock me back and out of the way. Her arms wrap around him and she seems to press further into him as he wraps his arms around her. There’s something about it that just feels … odd. I don’t know what.
“I can’t believe it,” she sobs. “What am I going to do without him?”
“It’ll be all right,” he responds. “I’ll see to your care.”
“I knew you would,” she says as she looks up at him and bats her tear coated lashes at him. “You’re such a good man. Please come with me. I need help with … things.”
He nods once and lets her lead him down the hallway, to do what, I don’t know. I knew that things would change when the crown changed hands but I can’t say that I was ready for what would come next.
I stand here, feeling a little bewildered—time feels abstract and either races or crawls—when Maeve pops out of nowhere and takes me by the hand like a toddler.
“Come now, dear,” she says gently. “There’s work to be done.”
I just nod because I don’t know what else to say as she leads me down the hallway to my rooms. There is no noise here. Usually the halls are filled with the hustle and bustle of the people who work and live here. Today there is nothing.
“Now you’re going to get a crash course in royal protocol,” she says as she dabs at her eyes with a handkerchief.
She ushers me through the sitting room and into my bedroom. Laid out on my bed is a black shirt dress in a soft, silk material. It has short sleeves and a full shirt. The front buttons from the waist to a small peter pan collar. There’s also a black cardigan, stockings, and undergarments laid out. On the floor next to the bed are a pair of black leather Louboutins.
“I’ll leave you to dress quickly,” she says. “Soft makeup, natural colors. Hair pinned back and low.”
“Okay.”
“I’ll be just out in the sitting room,” she says, and I nod. Maeve leaves, shutting the door quietly behind her. I know I wasn’t supposed to see it, but the worried look on her face she quickly tries to mask has my belly roiling.
I quickly strip off my village outfit and I move to the bathroom, fixing my makeup but my hair gives me trouble. I don’t know what I’m doing. This is what happens when you’re a motherless girl raised by two men.
I give up on my hair and quickly pull on the outfit she left out for me including the cardigan because it’s freezing. I step into the heels and then make my way to the bedroom door. I steel myself and then pull it open and call out, “Maeve?”
“Yes, dear?”
“I … umm …”
“What is it?”
“I need help with my hair. I wasn’t sure what you meant and it’s coming out all wrong,” I answer. Even I can hear the defeated tone in my voice.
