11. Chapter Eleven
Chapter Eleven
A fter breakfast the next morning, I make my way up to the second floor. I dart into the hallway, opposite the entrance to the East Tower, and press my body to the wall. I slow my breathing, urging my beating heart to slow.
Feet shuffle on stone, echoing through the open space.
Leaning forward, I crane my neck just enough to see the High King and his personal guard emerge from the East Tower. The five guards are stoic, arranged around him to form a protective barrier. The High King descends the main staircase, the guards moving in perfect time around him.
This is my opportunity .
My chance to see what lurks in the East Tower.
I wait a moment until I’m sure the High King won’t be returning any time soon. Then, I move from the hall and carefully approach the entrance. When I reach it, I hesitate.
Adrenaline courses through me and nerves dance in my stomach. If I get caught, I could be arrested. Or worse, executed for treason.
But I find myself frozen in place.
I have to do this.
I have to know.
So, I take a deep breath and trudge forward. As I move farther into the hall, I can’t tear my eyes from the many paintings that hang on each side. Framed canvases of many shapes and sizes don the walls, and a thick bronze colored carpet runs under my feet.
But the deeper I get, something awful fills my nose.
Rot.
Cracks form in the walls, getting deeper and more ragged the farther I go. Paintings hang crooked on rusted nails. Rocky debris litters the floor. Big holes fill the carpet, as if moths have eaten away at it.
A sickly murk muddles the air. I raise my hand to my mouth to keep myself from choking on the rancid odor.
What’s wrong with this place?
When I reach the end of the corridor, I enter a rounded area, with the mouth of a spiral staircase .
Curiosity begs me forward. Moving carefully, I walk to the steps and climb up them. As I do, darkness falls around me, even though there are windows on either side of the tower.
The stone bricks making up the walls have deteriorated, crumbling into dust in some areas. A few stairs are crushed, and some are missing all together.
Dodging the gaps, I reach the top of the staircase.
It’s a bedchamber.
There are no paintings here. No banners or drapes. Not even a chair or sitting area. The only cloth I can see is draped over a huge four-poster bed with splintered posts. There’s barely any light, but there aren’t any candles or candelabras to illuminate the room.
The long table opposite the bed draws my attention. It’s the only other piece of furniture, save for the bed. It looks as if it’s barely kept together—many nails are hammered into the strangest of places. On top of it, rests a collection of black leather gloves. They’re laid out neatly. Each pair is identical in every way.
The gloves look familiar. It only takes me a moment to recall why.
The High King wore a pair of these exact gloves when I arrived. In fact, he’s worn them every single time I’ve seen him.
I stagger back, my chest rising and falling with each of my breaths.
This is his bedchamber.
And these are his gloves .
Whatever secret the High King is hiding, the state of his private chambers makes one thing certain.
It’s so much worse than I could have ever imagined.
My heart rate accelerates, and my breathing quickens until I feel almost lightheaded.
Picking up my skirts, I flee from the chamber, down the stairs, and run the length of the hallway. The beautiful paintings that once captivated me pass in a blur.
I slow my pace to a fast stride when I reach the open area at the top of the main staircase. But I don’t stop to catch my breath. I continue at my adjusted speed, eager to put more distance between myself and the East Tower.
“You there!” a voice shouts.
I stop and turn around. A guard approaches me, his expression pinched.
“Yes?” I ask, feigning innocence.
“What were you doing in the East Tower?” he demands.
I gasp, placing the daintiest hand I can muster on my chest. “You’d dare assume that I would defy the High King’s command?”
“Well, if you weren’t in the East Tower,” the guard says, his voice dripping with disbelief, “then why were you coming from that direction?”
“I was looking for my betrothed,” I snap. “You know, His Highness, the Crown Prince?”
The guard arches a brow. “You were looking for His Highness? ”
“Yes.” I cross my arms, sticking out my chin. “He was supposed to join me for a walk on the grounds. Though, now, since he’s late, I can’t say I’ll accompany him.”
The guard sneers at me. “You think you can lie to me, human?”
“Fine, don’t believe me.” I throw up my hands in surrender. “Throw me in the dungeons, for all I care. Go ahead and invoke His Highness’s wrath. I dare you.”
“That won’t be necessary,” a deep voice commands.
The guard and I turn simultaneously. Viridian stands before us, holding his hands behind his back. The picture of regality.
He looks at me first, meeting my eyes. Interest sparks in his expression, a questioning look flashing in his gaze. Then he turns to the guard, his face hardening to stone almost instantly.
“When my betrothed speaks to you, she is to be believed.” Viridian’s voice turns icy. “Is that clear?”
The guard swallows nervously and bows his head. “Yes, Your Highness. My mistake.”
“Your mistake indeed,” Viridian echoes. “One that is not to be repeated.” He waves his hand. “Return to your post.”
The guard bows again, and then leaves swiftly.
“I apologize for my tardiness, Miss Thurdred,” Viridian says, loudly enough for any other nearby guards or servants to hear. “I had business to attend to.”
I play along, thanking him with my eyes. “Very well. Perhaps I’ll allow you to walk me to my room to make up for it.”
“I’d like that.” Viridian smiles, and it’s hard for me to decipher whether it’s genuine or simply part of the act. Unclasping his hands, he gestures for me to go ahead.
I do. Viridian falls into step beside me.
Once the guards are out of earshot, he peers over at me.
“Care to explain to me what it was you were doing?” he whispers.
“Nothing.”
His lips curve upward, but it’s not a smile. “Oh, really? Nothing at all?”
“Yes.”
Viridian presses his lips together. “You will be the death of me, won’t you, Little Fawn?”
“Don’t assume you’ll be so lucky,” I counter.
This time, he grins. “My mistake.”
We stop when we reach my room.
“Thank you,” I tell him. This is the second time I’ve had to thank him. It feels like defeat. Like surrender. What would Loren say if he saw me conspiring with the enemy?
Viridian pauses, surprise raising his brows. “You’re welcome.”
I expect him to leave, but he doesn’t.
“What are you doing?” I ask bluntly. “You can go now.”
“Don’t flatter yourself.” Without looking away from me, he steps backward and reaches for the knob of the door next to mine. He says simply, “I’m not staying for you. I’m going to my room.”
Before I can respond, he opens the door and steps inside.
Now, it’s my turn to stand in the hallway looking like a fool.
I stare after him, the realization ringing in my head. As if things could get any worse.
Viridian’s bedchamber shares a wall with mine.
“Of course it does,” I huff dryly. The gods would be that cruel, wouldn’t they?
Stepping into my room, I shut the door with a groan. Even though I’m back in my own chamber, the sight and smell of the East Tower lingers. I can’t stop seeing the decay that’s taken root there. The sickly sight of the High King’s quarters. The filth that he returns to night after night.
So many questions run through my mind.
What caused the decay in the East Tower?
Why does the High King have so many pairs of black gloves?
And what does all of this have to do with my betrothal?
I thought investigating the East Tower would give me answers. But all it’s done is leave me with more dead ends. More unanswered questions.
I know one thing.
If I want to survive here, I need to find out what’s wrong with the East Tower.
Before whatever evil lurks there swallows me whole.