Chapter 18
Shey Thrudesh-Vo
The world swam, and Shey stumbled as everything went black. His hand landed on the wall, and he steadied himself as he squeezed his eyes shut, trying to clear them and his head.
What had he been saying?
It felt important. But now he couldn’t even remember who he’d been talking to. His brain was full of fog and broken thoughts.
Blinking, he lifted his head and found that he was standing in the middle of the corridor leading from the study he used for official business.
This was the western wing of the Sirelis royal palace.
Close to his private chamber. He must have been coming from a meeting with some cabinet members or possibly getting updated on security matters.
Yet, that seemed wrong…
He pushed away from the wall and glanced behind him.
Nothing was out of the ordinary, other than the fact that he was completely alone.
He was never alone. There was always a servant or his assistant, Luca, who was usually trailing a few steps behind him with a never-ending list of things he needed to do, people he needed to speak to, and places he needed to appear.
He would bitch that his sister, Fiona, needed to do more to pull her royal weight, but he’d seen her schedule, and it was worse than his.
Where had he been going?
It must have been to find his mother. Something was off.
It was wrong. The palace was too empty, or maybe it was that something was missing and he couldn’t figure out what, but if he found his mother, she’d be able to explain what was going on.
As much as he hated to be managed, he appreciated that she always had her finger on exactly what was going on and what the next steps should be.
That was likely because she’d ruled Caspagir for so long, though.
She had countless advisors and spies at her beck and call at any time of the day.
She was never short on information—even if it was just that her son was avoiding his duties to flirt with a certain international exchange student.
A smile crossed his lips as he thought of Rayne. Tall, handsome, too proper for his own good, smug know-it-all who was so very talented at making Shey’s toes curl.
Yes, maybe he’d go find Rayne instead of his mother. He might not be able to explain this nagging feeling of why things were wrong, but Rayne always made him feel better.
After shoving off the wall, he walked along the corridor, his eyes still searching for any sign of another servant or someone who worked in the palace or even a government official.
He traveled down hallway after hallway. The palace dripped with the usual opulence and grace, while weaving in different shades of blue everywhere.
Of course, the most prominent color was the official Caspagir blue matched with threads of silver and gold.
His footsteps on the thick carpet sounded more muted than usual, as if his ears were clogged.
When he finally reached a tall, floor-to-ceiling window, he paused, his gut twisting.
The sky was an odd shade of bright green, as if spring leaves had bled into the sky, changing it from blue.
Yet, even as that oddity was registering in his mind, thick black clouds rolled in, and a rumble of thunder filled the city, echoing within his chest.
Some thought danced through his mind, but as he reached for it, the thought turned to smoke and slipped through his fingers, floating away.
The sense of urgency and panic increased.
He needed to find someone now. His mother.
Sister. Rayne. Even a servant. Someone had to tell him what was going on. Why was he there?
He’d taken two steps away from the window, and his feet stopped as if glued to the floor.
Why was he there?
That question shouldn’t have crossed his mind. It was only natural that he was at home. It shouldn’t have conjured up such feelings of panic and dread. Where else should he have been?
No! There was somewhere else!
But as soon as that realization hit, a bright light flashed and thunder boomed as if it meant to rend the world in half.
He flinched, his whole body growing cold and prickly at the thunder rolling through him.
As the skies grew quiet again, the sound of pounding feet echoing through the halls reached his ears.
Someone was here. He wasn’t alone.
Except it wasn’t a lone servant. It sounded as if hundreds of people were racing along the hallways deep within the palace. Heavy, pounding footsteps like combat boots on marble floors.
A high-pitched, agonized scream tore through the silence, and Shey’s heart froze. That sounded like Fiona.
Invaders! Someone was attacking the castle.
Shey shoved aside all the questions and fears that had been plaguing him and raced forward, down the long hallway and a wide set of marble stairs.
He didn’t know where he was going. He let his feet carry him, chasing the sound of Fiona’s cry and the increasing clang of fighting.
Shouts of pain and the metallic clash and scrape of swords hitting each other.
Hints of blood and smoke hung in the air.
He didn’t know who was attacking them. New Rosanthe?
Damardor? It didn’t matter. He had to reach his sister before it was too late.
His heart slammed against his ribs, and he gasped for air as he ran.
He turned left and right, following the winding paths that seemed to stretch on and on without him ever getting closer to the fighting.
Just as a shout of frustration was about to push past his lips, he came to the head of the grand staircase and stopped at the absolute ruin.
The enormous chandeliers that had hung far overhead were smashed to bits on the marble floor.
Chunks of marble had been cut out of the floor and bits of the walls had been blasted apart, while black soot streaked what remained.
Blood was on everything. The lighting was dim, but he could see the blood glistening on every surface.
The few carpets that remained squelched under his feet, the blood welling up with each step to coat his boots.
Bodies lay scattered everywhere. Torn apart.
Limbs left at awkward angles and eyes staring sightless out of pale, dead faces.
Familiar faces. Servants. Ministers. Cabinet members.
Dignitaries he’d had dinners with while discussing various treaties and agreements on behalf of his mother.
It was a sea of dead, but there were no attackers. Only the aftermath of death and blood.
And in the center of the landing, right at the head of the stairs, lay Fiona.
A shout ripped from Shey’s lips as he raced forward.
His knees slammed into the floor, the carpet soaked with her blood making a gruesome noise.
Her rich chestnut-brown hair that fell in lustrous waves down her back was now matted and nearly black, wet with blood.
Her soft alabaster skin looked gray in death, while her perfect brown eyes were milky and stared at the ceiling.
Blood spilled from her parted lips and soaked into her elegant gown.
Someone had stabbed her through the heart, and she’d died without her brother to save her.
“No!” he screamed again, forcing his trembling hands to gather her up and pull her into his lap.
He was afraid that if he touched her and found her cold, it would all be true.
His sweet, impish sister would be gone. She’d been a nuisance and a bother when they’d been growing up.
With ten years between them, there had been few moments where they’d felt any kind of genuine camaraderie.
He had always been annoyed by her efforts to tag along behind him, and she’d been angry that he could do “all the fun things” while she was stuck with boring princess lessons.
It was only later, after they’d both climbed into adulthood together, that they’d managed to better understand and respect each other. He’d felt close to her as a sibling and friend. But now she was gone. Stolen away from him.
Why? Who had done this? Who would dare to end her innocent life?
“Help! Guards! Someone!” he bellowed, his harsh voice echoing through the halls, ringing above the distant sounds of fighting. But there was no answer for him. No one came to help save his sister.
It was too late, though. Her body was as cold as ice, and even the blood seeping into his clothes was thick and cold, holding no hint that she’d ever lived.
“Shey?”
His head snapped up and turned. That was Rayne’s voice. He would recognize it anywhere.
“Shey?” Rayne called again. The sound was desperate and fearful, but also growing softer as if he were moving away from him. Thunder rumbled, louder now than it had been. The wind and rain lashed at the palace and hammered on the windows as if the storm were demanding entrance.
Shey swallowed a fresh sob and stared at his sister’s dead body.
“I’m sorry I was too late.” He lifted his shaking right hand and closed her eyes, smearing blood across her eyelids and cheeks, before laying her on the floor.
There was nothing he could do for her, but maybe he could still save Rayne and their mother.
Maybe they were together in the throne room, and Rayne was protecting her from these unknown attackers. That had to be it.
As he pushed to his feet, he searched the immediate area. His eyes lit upon a sword. No, his sword stabbed into the chest of one of the servants. Why was his sword here?
It didn’t matter. It couldn’t. Nothing made sense. All he knew was that he had to find his mother and Rayne.