Chapter Twenty-Six
Draven reaches down, grabbing my hand and interlacing our fingers before he hits the doors leading to the ball room with such force, they break off the hinges.
We work our way into the crowd, but there are way less people than before. Draven rushes forward, pulling me with him and squeezing my hand tighter the further we get into the room.
As I look around, most people are pushed up against the wall hysterical, some are on their knees.
Each one has devastation written across their face.
“Everyone out into the hall, do not even think of leaving because I will find you,” King Sander yells.
The sound of his voice travels across the room, making space for panic to start to settle in.
I see Draven start looking around the room, panic written across his own face as he searches for his father. We see the top of King Sander’s head at the same time and move toward him, together.
As we approach, I look to my left. Queen Maura is pushed up against the wall, Alaric shielding her with his body. The fae guards and various advisors they brought along with them are circling around her and forming a ring of protection.
King Sander is standing over King Vesper, shielding him. The king is laid out on the floor, his eyes are closed, but his chest rises.
My eyes travel up and down his body, then move to his surroundings. I see the cup shattered on the ground next to him, blood splattered across the floor, painting the marble red.
Draven inhales sharply, dropping my hand and rushing forward as he falls onto his knees next to his father. He runs his hands up and down the king’s chest, checking for wounds.
“I need a healer,” he yells with panic, the sound so foreign that it fills me with dread.
King Sander places his hands on Draven’s back. “The blood, Draven.” He nods to the cup on the floor. “The wounds are not on the outside.”
I bring my hand up to my chest in realization. The king has been poisoned.
“The healer has been called for and is bringing antidotes,” a guard yells from across the room.
“But I do not know which he needs,” King Sander says, as panic sits within his own eyes.
King Vesper’s eyes flutter open, then shut again. Draven looks around the room frantically.
“Where are they? Why is it taking so long?” Draven shouts.
Draven reaches down, his hands cradling the back of King Vesper’s head as he pulls him up and into his arms.
“Father, you have to wait a few minutes longer, please.”
King Vesper does not respond. His chest continues to rise and fall with each breath he takes. Each breath becoming shallower as the second pass.
Draven leans down, pressing his ear up against his father’s chest, checking for a heartbeat.
“Father, please, you cannot leave me here alone. I wasn’t ready. I’m not ready,” he says, his voice cracking.
Tears start to fill my eyes.
King Vesper’s eyes open slowly, this time staying open. He reaches his hand up, cradling Draven’s face gently.
“My son,” he says, voice hoarse.
Draven brings his hand up, covering his father’s hand with his own.
How long has it been since he has touched his own son like this?
Draven’s eyes go distant, then he closes them. A minute passes. There are still no signs of a healer.
King Vesper’s chest stops moving.
I hear Queen Maura let out a loud sob as she watches from the corner, her son holding her up in his arms as she turns to cry into his chest. King Sander looks over to his wife, then to Draven as a single tear falls out of his own eye, traveling down his cheek.
He drops down onto his knees next to Draven, wrapping his arm around him. King Sander reaches forward, shutting King Vesper’s eyes. His unmoving body telling me everything I need to know.
He is dead.
In a daze, I step forward once, then twice, slowly heading toward Draven so I can bring him some form of comfort. This scene taking me back to one that I have replayed in my head for years as I saw my own father’s unmoving chest and closed eyes.
As I take another dazed step toward Draven, a small hand wraps lightly around my wrist.
“My lady, please step back over here, it is too dangerous up there.”
I turn as the person starts to guide me further away from Draven. When I fully face whoever it is pulling me away, my eyes meet Ludwig’s.
I shake my head, pulling my arm back. “No, I need to be there for him. He needs me right now.”
I try to snatch my wrist out of his grasp. He does not let go.
“My lady, the prince is mourning and he needs his space. It is too dangerous for you.”
I pull again, but his grip is firm.
“No, you do not understand, he needs me right now. Let me go.”
He continues to try and pull me away into one of the arches. I turn from him and pull as I try to drag my way back to Draven. Ludwig’s short body slides across the floor as I move.
His grip starts to tighten, more to the point where I feel pain travel up my arm.
I look down, seeing the hand that was originally around my wrist, slowly change into one much bigger.
Starting with the fingers as they lengthen, further securing his grip.
Then his hand stretches, covering my wrist completely.
My heart starts to pump faster in my chest as dread coils up tight in my stomach. This is not Ludwig.
I have seen this hand before, but it usually belongs in my nightmares.
I slowly turn, my eyes traveling up Ludwig’s short arm that is melting away into someone else’s.
My wide eyes continue to travel up his stout body as another one grows from it, hidden under a large black cloak. Ludwig’s previous features slowly disappearing and morphing into someone else completely.
When I stop at their face, they slowly start to push back their black hood. I see the mottled skin first and then the yellow eyes. Wirey grey hair now flows from the top of his head, falling past his cracked and bloody lips.
Oleander Linx.
I go to open my mouth to scream, but nothing comes out. Like my voice has been snatched from my own vocal cords.
He reaches down, grabbing my other wrist so I am trapped within his unrelenting grip.
“Hello, Solene, ready to go?”
His voice is slow and heavy. Each word like claws dragging across my mind.
I look around the room in desperation as every person slowly starts to freeze in place. Their eyes still move, fully aware of what is happening.
I turn back to Draven, our eyes locking as he takes in what is happening. Immediately, he throws out his hand as he lunges to get up. His shadows fly our way, but they stop midair as Draven falls to the ground.
It is almost like he saved Draven for last, making him feel like he had a chance to get to me.
“He is not coming to save you this time,” Oleander whispers in my ear.
Draven starts thrashing against the floor, every muscle rippling through his body as he makes an effort to get himself up off the ground. His veins bulge out of his neck as his face turns a deep red.
Draven opens his mouth and screams into the air above him.
His voice so loud it pierces my ear drums.
“SOLENE.”
Then, we disappear.